Marshmallow Wars

Marshmallow Warrior


The Target


Clearing the pipe


Loading up


Shoot!


Of course, I didn't let her shoot the kitty. But by now, with lots and lots of practice, we both could probably shoot one over the roof. Fun, Fun, Fun.

There are days

There are days where
I don’t know who I am looking
This way and that for external forms
Of validation, of approval, of acceptance
Of blessing, or dare I even breathe it,
Love?

Love
Time and time again I ask for God to
Use me, to call me a worthy vessel, for God
To keep me close, to shelter me, to show me love
Still

Still
I feel the grit of the sand and not its softness,
I feel my shadowside, I feel the dark
I feel the coldness of abandonment or maybe of
Abandon wild.

Wild
Abandon I cry out I want more
But can’t express what is more knowing always the less.
I cannot be more, there isn’t more

To be
Existence is it answer enough in itself
Or will there ever be a time where
I will know that I am enough
there are days where
I don’t know who I am.

Bits and Pieces

Lessons learned by Entropy today (causing the Mama tremendous anxiety)

Do not use your Marshmallow Blow Gun without first checking for fire ants.
Fire ants can and will bite your tongue and lips.
No, you will not die.
Yes, it hurts a lot.
Yes, Entropy is allergic to fire ants.
Swelling and hives and blotchiness are not a bad things, as long as you can still breathe.
Swallowing a fire ant will not kill you.
Doctors are good people. Knowing the location of the epi-pen is a good thing, even if you don't use it. Ice is a good thing. Benedryl is a good thing. Rocking chairs are a good thing. Sleep in Mama's arms is a good thing.
Now the Mama is tired.

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Here's Catblogging really, really late. Or really early, depending. The kitty is not moving much this summer -- she's sleeping a lot.



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If you are Methodist and really, really want to geek out, check out the Annual Conference summary page on UMC.org. I think I want to go to the Alaska Missionary Conference. It sounds cool. Really cool. Like it's not above freezing for much of the year. And where else can you be part of a Tongan Fellowship or a Hmong Fellowship? The statistics are interesting -- Dean Snyder is tracking some of them.

The Pea Little Thrigs

from the website: Fun with words we read the Pea Little Thrigs.

"Piddle lig, piddle lig, ket me lum in!"

"Not by the chuzz on my finny fin fin!"

"Then I'll larf and I'll barf and I'll hoe your blouse down!"

Really really funny if you are sleep deprived and had a couple of glasses of wine and someone begins giggling.

I guess you had to be there....

Update

As of this morning, I am now listed in the Conference Journal not as supply pastor, ministry intern or student pastor, but assistant pastor. (Actually, I never have been a supply pastor, but they get nice purple tags at conference. Perhaps they are especially pentinent.) (Mine was blue and now is brown -- so I'm full of -- Chocolate?)

This is, by the way, a Yipee! moment. Titles left to go: Probitionary Member then Elder. Lord willing and crick don't rise. Only, what, 5 or 6 more years??

Update to the Update:
Jay's famous! Check it out here. Front page of UMC.org. Too cool. Yeah Jay!

Conference

It is very hot in Athens this week. Many people are suffering from the combination of heat and formal clothing. The air conditioning is doing a valiant job of trying to keep up, but the Georgia heat and humidity is difficult to deal with. It was 96 degrees at my car at 4:00 PM yesterday and the car was in the shade. Sweltering heat. I'm not feeling one hundred percent this morning -- and I am drinking Gatorade and water continually this morning. Nonetheless, it is a wonderful time -- I love to smooze. I know there are a lot of important things going on this week with voting rights, pension plans and equitable comp -- but to me confererence is all about smoozing. I love people -- I love to listen to people's stories. I am having a grand time. Here's some pictures.

These are the Chalices that are being used for communion this week.


Here is the communion table as it was set for the memorial service on Tuesday.


This is the choir for the ordination service on Tuesday night.


Here's a (discreet) shot of Bishop Lindsay Davis speaking at the ordination service.

Papa

As I was looking through my books for a Bible that included the Apocrypha a while back, I found the Bible my Maternal Grandparents gave me when I was 7 years old. While I flipped through its pages an old white index card fell out along with a couple of Xeroxed sheets of paper. And I remembered.

I remembered.

I was sitting in a hospital room with my wheelchair bound Grandfather, who I called Papa. Papa was always my Papa. He took care of me when I was very little because both of my parents worked. I always assumed that everybody had a Papa. He fed me and dressed me, held my hand when I crossed the street, carried me when I was tired. Now I was watching him watch his wife of 15 years die of the same cancer that had claimed my natural grandmother 20 years before. Mama had left us there for a while so that she and Daddy could go and get some sleep. Polly had a fast moving cancer that had started in her liver and moved to her brain. She had not been conscious and lucid for several days. Everyone said that it was a relief because she had been in so much pain, but I sat in the presence of pain that night. People had come and visited and Papa wrote their names down on a little index card that he kept in his pocket. I knew later that night when we got home it would join several of its brothers on Papa’s dresser. I watched him hold Polly’s hand as her breathing became rougher and slower. I watched him as he stroked her hair. Her face was as gray as her hair. We all knew that it was just a matter of time.

Papa rolled his gray wheelchair back to the other side of the room to get his Bible. I watched as he laboriously picked it up in his gnarled hands. He had rheumatoid arthritis for so long that I couldn’t remember when his hands had been flexible and strong and young. He thumbed through the pages and started to read. I smiled at myself because he was holding the Bible upside down.

“Papa, what 'cha doing?”

“Oh, I’m reading Hebrews. I am getting so many blessings out of it!”

“Oh, yeah?”, I said in my sarcastic teenaged way.

“Just listen ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. For by it the elders obtained a good report. Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear. These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. God having provided some better thing for us......some better thing.’”

I was quiet. Papa sat quietly with his worn red Bible in his hands, upside down. He wept. He didn’t cry or sob. He wept. I watched the tears course down his face like rivers in reverse, the tributaries of tears divided by his wrinkles again and again until his entire face was wet and the collar of his shirt was damp. His shirt was an old red plaid shirt that she had washed a thousand times. I could still see the shiny marks her iron had made on the points of his collar. I looked at Papa and for the first time in a very long time I saw him. I saw his faded brown driving cap. The stitching that said “Kangaroo” was coming unraveled in the back. He always wore a cap to keep his bald head warm. I remember polishing that perfectly bald head with baby oil and dusting it with baby powder. I remember patting his feathery little white fringe with my baby hands. I remember marveling at its smooth warmness. I saw his white tee shirt peeking out from under his shirt. I saw his bony wrists as he held his Bible. I saw his baggy pants that had the knees worn out by many hours of kneeling in his garden and kneeling in prayer. I saw the black and white running shoes that would never run. I saw love watching his Love die.

After a while he took out his index card and his red “teacher” pen. I watched him write words on that card that looked as if they were written in blood. Eventually his head nodded forward and he dozed. His Bible slipped on the floor, but he held onto that little card. Curious I went over to see what he had written. It said:

Visit Polly
Mrs. Cora from Epworth
Then he had drawn a line and written.
You Polly and Theron Sr will in HEAVEN be
some day where there is no pain no sickness
For Polly and me will be in heaven.

When I was looking at the card, he woke up and saw me. He pressed the card into my hands and said, “Now Teeda Bug, you keep this card. You keep it and remember.”

I took it home and put it in my Bible at Hebrews 11 along with the words of “Faith of my Fathers.”

“Faith of my Fathers, Holy Faith.
We will be true to thee till death.”

That card had been in my Bible for several years now. Years of stress and pain, joy and wonder. It was there until just a little while back when I picked that old Bible again and the card fell out.

And I remembered.

Time to Drink Coffee

and go to Annual Conference. In the last few days, people have cornered me and said "How are you going to vote??" Interesting that so many of our congregants are actually interested in what goes on at Annual Conference. And it's my 19th wedding anniversary to an wonderful person. Happy, happy, dearest loving husband of mine. He's a real gem of a husband and my closest friend and companion. Waboo!

Tagged by that Book Meme

Total books owned, ever: Um, lots and lots and lots. There are about 2500 or so in the Living room, 1000 or more in the bedroom, 2500 in storage, a few hundred just laying around. 10 in the car, 50 in the kitchen, 50 in the dining room, 3 boxes in the hall. Way too many, I am sure.

Last book(s) I bought: I have to go to Amazon to find out -- Reaching Out without Dumbing Down, Making Love Last a Lifetime: Biblical Perspectives on Love, Marriage, and Sex (Making Love Last a Lifetime), John Wesley's Sermons: An Anthology, IBS Commentary on Genesis, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Prayer, a silly Shopaholic book.

Last book I read: The silly shopaholic book and the Complete Idiot's Guide to Prayer.

Five books that mean a lot to me: (well, the Bible of course but let's look at others)
The Three Musketeers -- read bunches and bunches of times, since third grade.
Something from Anne Lamott -- maybe Traveling Mercies.
Private Pilot's Handbook or Angle of Attack: Harrison Storms and the Race to the Moon. Or maybe The Bishop's Boys.
Witness by Tom Long or The Heart of Christianity by Marcus Borg.
Book of Common Prayer.

I am supposed to tag five people. I say, tag yourself. If you want to participate, be welcome. If you don't -- that's OK too.

Panic

on a Sunday morning -- I dropped my laptop.
It seems to be OK. Nothing like a little drama to get the blood going on a Sunday morning.

Boring Camera Posting

Anne asked what camera I finally purchased: That would be a Nikon D70.

I had an Minolta Dimage (and before that a Sony and before that a Canon and before that a Sony -- this will be my 4th or 5th digital -- oh yeah, I also had a Vivitar and two generic things from Radio Shack. Wow, I guess that makes 8.) - It was a great little camera -- and took great pictures, but I really put cameras through the gristmill and it's got a couple of problems.

I purchased a Nikon D70 after playing for a while with a Nikon D100 (after playing for a while with a D1). It's a good and relatively inexpensive camera (compared with the D1X) and should be rugged enough to endure for quite a while.

It's two things that limit resolution in a camera -- the optics and the CCD array. Most cameras do not have the optics to match their CCD array. I would purchase really good optics if you are going for a fixed lens camera (meaning that you cannot change the lenses.) Look for the words "Optical zoom" and not Digital Zoom. You will get better results that way. Look at the apature (diameter) of the lens. The bigger they are around, the better they will collect light and the better the image. Digital cameras tend to either be made by Computer type companies or Camera type companies (with a few exceptions). The ones made by Camera type companies are most of the time easier to use (a real generalization, I know.)

I have been a camera junkie for a long, long time and have quite a collection of Nikon bits and pieces. I now have consolidated to two camera bodies -- a film camera (Nikon 8008 -- old and very heavy, but very reliable) and the D70 - they can share my flip-frame, they share the Speedlight 28 flash and most lenses. The Speedlight will not do all that the newer flashes will do, but only looses two modes of operation on the D70. The only thing that the two cameras don't share is the remote and media (film vs. flash memory card.) They even share most methods of operation -- not much of a learning curve between the cameras.

I now only own three film cameras that are usable -- an ancient double lens reflex purchased by my father in 1948, my husband's 25 year old Pentax and my 8008. I've owned many others -- I loved the F3, FG, FM cameras -- each for a different reason. The F3 didn't work really well after I dropped it.... As I said, the 8008 is such a solid camera and a really good buy for the money. It's still very easy to use -- the programmed modes are easy to understand, but it can also be fully automatic.

I own about 6 Nikon lenses, a couple of them are broken or have problems. My favorite is a Nikkor that is easily 15 years old, but the optics are excellent, the weight is nice and is a 35-135 -- a good all around lens. I used a doubler on my 70-300 and got a 600 lens that I used this weekend -- and the D70 had no problem with camera shake. Excellent. Next test will be in an airplane and I will see if I get too much motion or if the camera will be OK with the lenses that I already own.

My next widget will be the wireless unit to put in the camera so that I can shoot directly to the laptop. Too cool!!

Very much a camera geek, am I not? I'm planning on shooting a lot at conference next week -- and maybe I'll get some more in the conference paper.

End of Boring Camera Posting.

Another quiz

You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this. Emergent/Postmodern 82% Modern Liberal 75% Roman Catholic 75% Classical Liberal 64% Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 61% Neo orthodox 57% Reformed Evangelical 43% Charismatic/Pentecostal 39% Fundamentalist 7% What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com

Catblogging a day late

Here's little kitty on the back of the sofa -- taken with my new very wonderful camera -- notice that the fill flash worked perfectly.



Without the fill flash -- what a difference.



And here is Entropy, aka Little Miss Mischief.


This is definitely a taking pictures season -- I love this new camera. I love taking pictures, anyway, but when the tool is such a quality tool, something that is pleasure becomes true joy. And I wonder if that is not what the Kingdom will be -- when the tool becomes so refined and polished that things that were just pleasure become unspeakable Joy.

Birds and Girls

Busy, busy day. Non-verbal kinda mood -- here's more pictures

Great Blue Heron on the Beach






Sandpiper


Young Adult Seagulls


Girls with their boogie boards

A Perfect Day

Songbird and I yearn for a perfect day with our mothers -- not to be in this life, I'm afraid.
So it's up to me to nurture me. What would my perfect day look like?

• B'fast made by my Loving Husband,
• Road trip to nowhere (I love roadtrips that don't really go anywhere, just wander around and see what there is to see.) Usually not in the city, but the deep country. In the summer between Monroe/ Conyers/ Social Circle/ Oxford area to all the way down to Juliette and Warm Springs. In the summer. In the Fall up to Sautee and Helen, Toccoa and the gorge.
• Watch people throw pottery or blow glass.
• Shopping in Social Circle, Conyers, Monroe, Lawrenceville in all those "red hat" shops. Talk to all the shop owners and see if we know any of the same people.
• Boiled peanuts, surprise antique shops, flying ”around the patch," Coke in the little bottle, ice cold. Ice cream at the airport and hangerfly for a while.
• Taking pictures of all sorts of things with a really good camera: architectural elements, doors, windows, churches, church doors and windows, steeples, hands, birds, eyes, flowers, clouds, small animals, gravestones, airplanes, chairs, cars, trees, shells, water and of course my children.
• Pull out the watercolors and paint in a greenhouse with a half dozen of my artist friends. Have the kids their own watercolor block and let them paint. See what they will do. Garden a litte.
• Read a little bit under a tree or in a porch swing after lunch. Or on the beach. Write a little.
• Sit on a sun-warmed rock in the deep shade in the mountains, by a creek after a hike or drift in the currents in a sun warmed ocean and playing in the sand – or fly a kite with the kids.
• A little more shopping and picture taking -- Maybe ending up either at that wonderful place in Warm Springs to eat dinner or at the Shakespeare Festival with a picnic prepared by "An Affair to Remember" and have a really good bottle of wine with all my friends. Have some pate and champagne and invite the cast to join me after the show.
• Maybe even Evensong at the Cathedral of Saint Phillip or Midnight Mass where there is really good music and incense. As a pew-warmer, holding my Loving Husband’s hand and the kids snuggling up close.
• Taking pictures at sunset.
• Sit on the front porch after midnight wrapped in a handmade quilt on a stormy night with my Husband and feel the storm on my face.

What's your perfect day?

Interesting Stuff

First, John interviewed me for his Methodist Blogger series on Locust and Honey. Thanks, John!
Second, Open Source radio program about religion on-line from NPR featuring Real Live Preacher and Sarah Dylan Bruer here.
Third, Kittenwar.
Fourth, Lost Episode Guide.
Fifth, I need to tell Xpatriated Texan that I am related to Tom DeLay. But, please, don't hold it against me. I'm also related to Claude Atkins, Marie DeLay of Julliard, Van Cliborn, the first governor of Louisana, the first governor of the Jamestown colony and the first man hung in Georgia for horse thievery. Hey, that's almost full circle -- from Tom DeLay to horse thievery.

This is slightly scary

From: What Your Name Means

There are 27 letters in your name.
Those 27 letters total to 128
There are 12 vowels and 15 consonants in your name.

Your number is: 11

The characteristics of #11 are: High spiritual plane, intuitive, illumination, idealist, a dreamer.

The expression or destiny for #11:
Your Expression number is 11. The number 11 is the first of the master numbers. It is associated with idealistic concepts and rather spiritual issues. Accordingly, it is a number with potentials that are somewhat more difficult to live up to. You have the capacity to be inspirational, and the ability to lead merely by your own example. An inborn inner strength and awareness can make you an excellent teacher, social worker, philosopher, or advisor. No matter what area of work you pursue, you are very aware and sensitive to the highest sense of your environment. Your intuition is very strong; in fact, many psychic people and those involved in occult studies have the number 11 expression. You possess a good mind with keen analytical ability. Because of this you can probably succeed in most lines of work, however, you will do better and be happier outside of the business world. Oddly enough, even here you generally succeed, owing to your often original and unusual approach. Nonetheless, you are more content working with your ideals, rather than dollars and cents.

The positive aspect of the number 11 expression is an always idealistic attitude. Your thinking is long term, and you are able to grasp the far-reaching effects of actions and plans. You are disappointed by the shortsighted views of many of your contemporaries. You are deeply concerned and supportive of art, music, or of beauty in any form.

The negative attitudes associated with the number 11 expression include a continuous sense of nervous tension; you may be too sensitive and temperamental. You tend to dream a lot and may be more of a dreamer than a doer. Fantasy and reality sometimes become intermingled and you are sometimes very impractical. You tend to want to spread the illumination of your knowledge to others irrespective of their desire or need.

Your Soul Urge number is: 1

A Soul Urge number of 1 means:
Your Soul Urge is the number 1. With a Soul Urge number of 1, you want to lead and direct, to work independent of supervision, by yourself or with subordinates. You take pride in you abilities and want to be recognized for them. You may seek opportunities to display your strength and usefulness, wanting to create and originate. In your desire to manage the big picture and the main issues, you may often leave the details to others.

The positive 1 Soul Urge is Ambitious and determined, a leader seeking opportunities. There is a great deal of honesty and loyalty in this character. If you possess positive 1 Soul Urge qualities, you are very attainment oriented and driven to success. You are a loyal friend and strictly fair in your business dealings.

The negative side of the 1 Soul Urge must be avoided. A negative 1 is apt to dominate situations and people; the home, the spouse, the family and the business. Emotions aren't strong in this nature. If you possess an excess of 1 energy, you may, at times, be boastful and egotistic. You must avoid being too critical and impatient of trifles. The great need of the 1 Soul Urge is the development of friendliness, and a sincere interest in people.

Your Inner Dream number is: 11

A Inner Dream number of 11 means:
You dream of casting the light of illumination; of being the true idealist. You secretly believe there is more to life than we can know or prove, and you would like to be provider of the 'word' from on high.

This is sort of freaky. Y'all try it out and see what you get. (Emphasis is mine.) Part of this are really strangely true. Wow.

A few thoughts

I have been re-reading the comments from last week's posting about my mother's death. I took them with me to the beach -- to my little bit of Paradise and they gave me comfort. The wound is healing -- and I know it will probably break open again before it will be completely healed. Grief is such a funny and strange thing. It catches you so unaware and steals your contentment -- or maybe just your complacency.

When I had my lumpectomy in 1996, I developed a severe wound infection. The wound healed up so beautifully on the outside, yet there were 1000 cc of pus inside. I had to allow the surgeon to break open that wound and drain all the pus away. So many times our wounds and scars look so nice on the outside -- we think that we are completely healed and then the wound breaks open and the infection seeps out. After the wound was drained, I had at-home nurses come every day for 3 months to dress the wound with a wet dressing -- packing it with saline soaked gauze and letting it heal from the inside out. The scar is so very ugly now -- yet I am indeed healed.

So it is with grief -- we have to let out the infection. We cannot swallow it, repress it, deny it. We have to attend to it, dress it with prayer and memory and let it heal from the inside out. Otherwise it will poison us and something will die. This venue allows me to do that, hopefully in a safe manner -- in a way that is not harmful. So I will continue to grieve -- sporadically, getting caught unaware. I thank you again for the comments, prayers and encouragement.

Blessings.

Just Right of Paradise

Here's a short photo essay for our favorite Florida spot -- which we have named "Just Right of Paradise." Paradise itself is no longer accessible -- they don't have a ferry anymore. There is still an airstrip on Paradise, but we just can't figure out the logistics of getting kids and camping gear and food to the island. Too much weight for our little plane and too little room.

The usual beach crowd. That's the Loving Husband.



An extremely crowded day. There *are* people in this shot. At least half a mile away.



Basecamp and the Loving Husband flying a kite.



Chaos and Entropy.



Trailer Sweet Trailer -- note that he *had* to use the laptop. But no wifi to be found for hundreds of miles.



My favorite store in the closest "big" town (20,000 people or so and more than 40 minutes away.) The closest Walmart is over a hour and a half away. The grocery store has one 4 by 4 section for toiletries and one entire aisle devoted to fishing gear. And another entire aisle devoted to beer. What more do you need? (Well, maybe wifi.)



And I will never, never, never reveal the location of Paradise. Otherwise it might become too crowded. Heh heh heh. But it's the same place Celestine Sibley used to go. Or just right of there.

Wow!

I'm gone a week and I have over 1000 postings in Bloglines to read... I may have to skim a little.... or maybe a lot.
***
The vacation to just right of Paradise was wonderful. Except for the trip down and back home again. It was a 7 "dead armadillo in the middle of the road" trip down and a 24 "dead armadillo in the middle of the road" trip back up (with 7 unidentifiable dead objects, 2 dead possum, 2 dead snakes, 1 box-turtle and one complete set of street hockey gear (and Entropy wanted to know if the hockey gear meant the hockey player had rotted away like armadillo do after a while leaving nothing but the carapace....))
It's a long trip when you start counting road kill.
***
I found out that an in-car DVD player is $288 at Sam's. Is this too much like closing the barn door after the horse escapes?

Torture, in a car, with children

Mama, mama, mama, are we in Florida yet?
Me: (amused) No, sugar, we aren’t out of the subdivision yet. I’ll let you know when we are in Florida.
***
Mama, mama, mama, are we in Florida yet?
Me: (less amused) No, sugar, we aren’t past the grocery store yet. I’ll let you know when we are in Florida.
***
(Around 100th time) Mama, mama, mama, are we in Florida yet?
Me: (no longer amused) No, sugar, we are not in Florida. (voice beginning to rise in pitch and volume) As I told you five minutes ago, for the 100th time, I’ll let you know when we are in Florida. We have hours and hours and hours and hours to go before we get to Florida. Do not ask me again, unless you wish to see the emergence of Cujo mama -- Do You Understand? And Cujo mama does not like Florida. Cujo mama will turn the car around and go home!
Loving Husband: Dear, are you OK?
Me: (growl)
***
Loving Husband: Hey! No hitting each other with pillows. Do you understand?
Chaos: Ok, Daddy.
A few quiet moments and then the hitting continues.
Loving Husband: Hey! I said "No hitting each other with pillows." Do you understand?
Chaos: We weren't hitting each other, we were tossing them to each other.
Loving Husband: Hey! No throwing pillows around the back of the car! Do you understand?
Chaos: OK, Daddy.
A few quiet moments and then the throwing continues.
Loving Husband: Hey! I said "No throwing pillows." What do you not understand?
Chaos: We weren't throwing them, we were bonking ourselves with the pillows.
Loving Husband: (growing very red in face) Hey! No hitting with pillows, No throwing pillows, No bonking with pillows! No movement of the pillows at all. None. Do You Understand??
Chaos: (very small voice) OK Daddy.
Me: Are you OK, dear?
Loving Husband: I think we are raising a lawyer.
***
Chaos: Hey mama, we’re passing Vienna! Can we stop and get some sausages?
Entropy: Yea! We want some
Together: Teeny Weeenies!!
(amused and sad my children associate Vienna with sausages and not with a beautiful city in Europe….)
***
Chaos: Mama, mama, mama, she’s spitting on me!!
Me: All bodily fluids are to stay within the appropriate area. That means that all saliva is to stay within your mouth. Do you understand?
Entropy: You mean I can’t swallow any? Or spit at the Dentist's office?
Me: (sigh) We are not at the Dentist's office. Do not spit on your sister.
Entropy: You mean I can’t spit on her if she spits on me first?
Me: Yes.
Entropy: That’s not fair!
Me: (getting red in face) No Spitting! No Spitting! No Spitting! And I mean both of you! Do you understand me?
Loving Husband: Dear, are you OK?
***
Entropy: Daddy, daddy, daddy, she’s smearing boogers on me!
Daddy: No smearing boogers.
Entropy: Daddy, daddy, daddy, she’s smearing boogers on me!
Daddy: I said, “No smearing boogers.”
Chaos: I wasn’t smearing, I was wiping.
Daddy: No wiping boogers.
Entropy: Daddy, daddy, daddy, she’s wiping boogers on me!
Daddy: I said, “No wiping boogers.”
Chaos: I wasn’t wiping, I was flicking.
Daddy: (getting red in the face) No boogers! (voice beginning to rise) No wiping, smearing, flicking, blowing, spattering, daubing, spreading, or applying boogers to any part of another person, do you understand?
Chaos: (little voice) I understand, can I have a tissue?
Me: (getting a tissue out of my purse; it’s a little ragged.) Here.
Chaos: Ooo, gross! You want me to blow my nose on THAT?
Me: You mean instead of your sister’s hair? YES.
Me: (to loving husband who is getting rather incoherent) Dear, are you OK?
***
After tire blows and we have to stop and get new tire
Chaos: Hey, look! There’s a sign! There are spitting people here!
Me: What? (I see sign “No spitting where people are working.” Maybe this is a problem for others as well.)
***
Me: Look Dear! The last three billboards were for exotic dancing and adults bookstores and now we have one for micro-surgical vasectomy reversal. (giggles)
Loving Husband: Oh, that’s funny!
Chaos: Why is that funny? What’s the joke?
***
Me: Hey, girls! We’re in Florida! (silence) Girls?
Look back and both are sound asleep….

Two Words

Thank you.

I'm taking a break for a couple of days -- catch you on the flip side.

Four Years Ago

Four years ago today, at 4:15, I received the phone call that I was needed at the hospital where my mother was a patient. By the time I arrived, she had been dead for 20 minutes. I wrote this piece a few months later -- please comment today. If you are a lurker, de-lurk. I honestly would appreciate some feedback today (and am not afraid to beg for it!) Thanks.

This past Sunday, the lectionary was in John. Phil taught a good, comfortable sermon. I had already had an exciting day -- an early start, a stalled car, a small fender bender, singing a solo at the offertory. I was looking forward to an interesting, comfortable sermon. Phil chose to teach about Nicodemus. I identify with Nicodemus. I too come to Jesus under the cover of night. I too do not ask the questions that burn within me, but ask obliquely, skirting around the issues. Jesus’ words in John 3:16 are salve on my soul. It is the first verse that I memorized as a child and the first verse I taught my children. Phil went on to talk about the growth of Nicodemus in Chapter 7 and the last time we hear of Nicodemus in Chapter 19: 38 - 42. Phil read:

... Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus' body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs. At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid. ...

Phil turned to the congregation and asked ‘Have any of you ever prepared a body for burial?’ I raised my hand slightly remembering the day I did Polly’s makeup and lipstick, because the funeral home didn’t do it correctly. I remember straightening my grandmother’s scarf around her neck as she laid in her casket and powdering her nose like she liked it. I recalled combing my father’s hair and tucking his favorite drumsticks in his hands and a picture of the children in his pocket.

Then it struck me in the solar plexus like a blow -- I was struck at the root of my being. A scab was torn away that had been growing for several months and I gave an audible gasp.

Myrrh and aloes. My God, my God how can I bear it?

Her last week was also the last week of school. Monday and Tuesday, I was busy with getting things done for the end of school. I spent some time with her that last week, not much. On Wednesday, I was busy with embroidering bags for the teachers at the school. Thursday I took her to the hospital for her operation. We were running late. I dropped her off at the front of the hospital, parked the car and didn’t catch up with her until right before she went into the operating room. She was excited about the surgery and was looking forward to having more mobility. She didn’t ‘want to be a burden.’ When they took her off to surgery she said ‘Yippee!’

I meet Father Doug in the waiting room of the hospital and we talked about all sorts of things. About cameras and church, genealogy and theology. There were other people in the waiting room as well and I made small chit-chat. I was a little anxious but buried my anxiety with talking. Dr. Greenwood came in and told me that the operation went well. I remember his hair being damp with sweat from the cap he wore during the operation. I showed him my pictures of the kids and he pulled out his wallet and showed me pictures of his. In a little while, I was told what room Mama was in and I went on up.

She was not doing well. Her leg was bound to the continuous passive motion machine and her arm in an IV with an on demand morphine pump. She was groggy and disoriented. The pulse/ox machine kept going off like a klaxon. I was depressed and felt alone. I wanted Bill, but he was in California. I sat in that damned chair and worried. The klaxon would sound and I would tell my Mama to breathe. This just seemed to go on and on. I left only after it seemed that she was breathing better. I came home, ate and took a nap and went back after just a few hours. She drifted in and out of sleep. The program we were watching was about a plane – ‘Stardust’ -- that was lost in the Andes over 50 years ago and now is emerging from a glacier. The narrator made a comment about how one minute they were relaxed having cocktails and the next they were dead. Mama made a casual comment about how easy that would be instead of suffering. I left her sleeping -- I was worried but I thought that we had reached the end of the bad spell.

Saturday Bill got home very very early. I was tired but I hustled around getting ready for Lauren’s birthday party. I remember Mama being there when Lauren was born and how depressed she was. She had no light in her soul. She was vacant and empty and lost. I remember finding her on the floor of her living room, sobbing and sobbing about losing my father. Since 1996, the year from hell, my Mama’s light had been rekindled. She was learning to live. She was looking forward to the summer. She was happy and content.

We got all the things ready for the Birthday party. We went to Pottery Bayou and all the kids painted little animals, we sang songs, we ate the cake, we opened the presents, we went home. I was tired. Amy was at the party, as was Joshua. She was tired and looked it. By this time, we both needed a break. Sunday, the 27th -- I can’t even remember if we went to church. I wanted to stay at home in the afternoon but we went to see ‘God’s Man in Texas’ that afternoon. Later that evening we went to the hospital. It was a good visit. She looked better. She loved on her grandchildren, kissing and hugging. I brushed her hair and washed her face with some cool water. She complained about her dry skin on her arms and legs. I got some aloe out of my backpack and smoothed a thick layer on her skin. I rubbed it on her face and let it soak in for a while. Then I spread a layer of the frankincense and myrrh lotion I had made for Christmas on top of the aloes. There was a lot of gold glitter in the lotion -- her skin sparkled in the light.

We talked about the year from hell -- 1996. My mother taught me to see the good that intermingled with the bad. Her life verse was Romans 8:28 ‘For all things work for good for those that love the Lord....’ My mother and I counted the blessing that arose from the adversities that we encountered in that year from hell. She taught me this. We talked that night about me going back to school -- to seminary. We discussed what a call from God could be and what it could mean. I kissed her good night and left for home.

We received the call at 4:15 am.

I rushed to get dressed and to the hospital. I ran all the red lights I could, except for the one in front of the Lawrenceville police station. I put my head on my steering wheel and cried and prayed. I prayed the bargaining kind of prayers. Oh God, not this! Not now!! I looked over down a side street and saw First Baptist’s steeple bathed in the light of a floodlight. I picked up my head and continued to drive to the hospital.

It was too late when I got there. Her flesh was still warm. There were gold sparkles on her skin and the odor of frankincense and myrrh in the air.

Aloes and myrrh. Myrrh and aloes. My God, my God how can I bear it? Just like Nicodemus had with Jesus, I prepared her for death.

Father Doug had his stole and oil and anointed her, but she had already been anointed.

The next few hours were a blur and the scab began to form.

It has been 3 days since the scab was ripped away from the wound and I am healing again. It is ripped away again and again and I know eventually the scar tissue will form. I take it one day at a time and remember the words that Jesus spoke to Mary and Martha before Lazarus was raised:

"Lord," Martha said to Jesus, "if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask."
I say, ‘Lord if you had been here, my mother would not have died.’

Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again."
Jesus tells me, ‘Your mother will rise again.’

Martha answered, "I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day."
I say, ‘My God, My God. Aloes and myrrh!’

Jesus said to her
Jesus says to me
Jesus says to us, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"

Oh God, I do believe but help me in my unbelief!

Begging is occuring....

Chaos and Entropy want to go to the annual Duct Tape Festival. Actually, it kinda appeals to me as well. I think they will stick to their guns about this. They want to tap(e) into the full potential of this festival --

Hat tip to Xpatirated Texan's Riding Herd on the Blogosphere.

Grace, Grace, God's Grace

When I prepared to go in front of the Board, I was asked an interesting question. I was asked to look out the window and find a person. Then the interviewer said “Tell me about that person, theologically.” I thought for a moment and I said, “This is a beloved child of God, made in the image of God. That image is sullied by sin and the cares of this world, but God still sees it and we should honor it. God has surrounded that person by His prevenient grace so that she hopefully will eventually know of that grace personally and crave to live a life modeled after Christ. It’s our job to help her experience that grace and find her way to Christ.” And I really do believe this.

I found out later there are two different types of answers – mine and the alternate answer “I see a sinner in desperate need of the redemptive power found in the blood of Christ. She needs to have Jesus shared with her and accept Jesus into her heart.”

It really is two different views – intertwined sometimes, and not really distinct from each other, but different and equally valid. One is a doctrine of total depravity and the other is the doctrine of Imago Dei. Both affirm the centrality of Christ, both affirm discipleship and modeling our lives after Christ. To me this has been a intellectual distinction, as I begin to explore this world theologically. (OK, the process has taken more than 20 years, maybe it’s “I continue to explore this world theologically.”)

I was sitting in a large cafeteria recently (within the last month) with a group of other pastors from my denomination. We were a rather quiet group. Suddenly the noise level went up several decibels – we were invaded by a youth group. The kids were exuberant – laughing, joking around, loud, enthusiastic, colorful and joyful. I looked at them and rejoiced at the work of God in their lives. Their mood was contagious. One group broke out in song spontaneously – some Michael W. Smith praise chorus. I could see them as beloved children of God, surrounded by a great cloud of witness, surrounded by God’s grace. I smiled to myself and hummed along.

I turned back to my group and the other three at my table had such sad expressions on their faces. One said, “Look at all those lost souls. It makes my heart heavy.” This comment brought me up short. Yes, I could understand that viewpoint, but it certainly was not the first thing I thought of. It does make my heart heavy sometimes when I think about children, especially my children drifting off the path, slipping down the wrong road, turning to the dark side. Yet my heart was heavier when I realized that these pastors were not rejoicing in the beauty of these children and not rejoicing in the work that God had already performed in their lives.

Maybe that is why we have such struggle with people who live lives that are different than ours. Why some can embrace Gay and Lesbian couples into their churches and some cannot. Why some can embrace women clergy and some cannot. It’s about our personal soteriology and how we view grace – and if we really believe if God’s grace is sufficient.

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt!
Yonder on Calvary's mount outpoured,
there where the blood of the Lamb was spilt.
Refrain:
Grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that is greater than all our sin!

Found at Hymnsite.

Catblogging

from a camera, through which I could not see. Makes framing the shots very interesting.


Chaos holding the kitty.


The ktty's new spot. She hasn't moved in a week, except when we pick her up. Note the similarity between today and last Friday.

Pictures

from a camera that I couldn't see through the viewfinder, because it was wonky. Even so, the camera took great pictures. I even could do lens tricks that the Dimage just won't do.

Dealing with Stuff

I’m a little angry right now. I bid on a camera on eBay – I’ve been wanting a Nikon D70 to replace my Nikon 8008 film camera and my Dimage digital. I’ve been shooting nothing but digital now for two years, it seemed a waste to have all those autofocus lenses just laying around….

And again, I typed a 9 instead of an 8 when I bid – my bad. But that’s OK. When the camera arrived, it was labeled “reconditioned.” That’s OK – I expected that. But the prism/viewfinder is skewed. Not OK. The viewfinder looks trapezoidal instead of rectangular. Definitely not OK. I called their customer service department. I want an exchange and was irritated that I can’t take this camera to Florida when I had planned in plenty of time. I offered to purchase another camera, pay the $10.00 for Saturday delivery if they would charge my card for another camera and then chargeback the price of the camera when they received the original camera. Instead, there was an elaborate bait-and-switch – somehow the salesperson wanted me to purchase a “pro-package” instead of this identical camera and it was going to cost me an additional $80.00. Plus shipping. It would have cost me maybe $130 all told.

Needless to say, I will not be returning to their website or eBay store for another purchase.

BTW, the Wesleyan Christian Advocate will be using one of my pictures on the front page for their next edition (June 2). Yeah! And I am going to carry my new camera to conference in a few weeks to take pictures for the paper. Yeah! It feels like it’s been so long since I had a real camera….. This kind of stuff drains my creative energy.

Theology from the Back Seat

Driving my 13 year old nephew to school this morning.

Him: I’ve been thinking – why do creationist and evolutionists fight so much?
Me: What do you mean?
Him: Well, they both think that only they are right, but they can both be right, can’t they? I mean, they get so mean and nasty. How can a real Christian be that nasty?
Me: Yeah, it bothers me too that sometimes Christians get so nasty.
Him: Yeah, I mean, what happens to their witness? I wouldn’t want to listen to them!
Me: I wouldn’t either. So (opening the can of worms) what do you think about creationism and evolutionism?
Him: (thoughtfully) I really don’t know. I think God did it all, you know, but He used the tools he had. I mean, look at the crucifixion. God used humans to do it, right? Humans made the cross and the nails and the whips and humans put Jesus on the cross, right? But that doesn’t mean that God wasn’t there, somehow. He just used the tools that He had. And like, God used dirt to make Adam, right? He used what he had. And He used physics and gravity to help make the planets. Maybe God used that creation stuff because that was the tool He had. Does that make sense?
Me: (It took me over 30 years to get that – wow.) Yeah, that makes sense.
Him: But you know what bothers me?
Me: What.
Him: I can’t prove that God exists.
Me: (You and me and 2000 or more years of theologians, kid.) Yeah, that bothers me too, but you know what?
Him: What.
Me: What are the kinds of things you can prove?
Him: Well, like science stuff and math stuff.
Me: You’re doing some Geometry, right?
Him: Yeah.
Me: And you can prove, without a shadow of a doubt that a triangle’s angles add up to 180 degrees.
Him: Yeah.
Me: And the base angles or an Isosceles triangle are the same measure? And that the two acute angles of a right triangle add up to be 90 degrees? And lots of other stuff?
Him: Yeah.
Me: Well, think about your Mama. She learned all that too – does she still think about that? Or did she close the book and put it on a shelf and let dust collect on it? Don’t you think a lot of people do that with stuff they can prove? Did you know that there are things in Geometry we can’t prove?
Him: Yeah, like that squaring the circle problem the Euclid found.
Me: Exactly. And did people close the book on that? Or are they still working on it and worrying with it and puzzling over it and thinking about it?
Him: (Eyes getting big in the rear-view mirror) Who-o-o-oa. (Long Pause)
Him: Maybe God doesn’t want us to be able to prove that He exists. Maybe if we did, we could close the book and put it on the shelf and never ever have to think about God again. Whoa. (I roll to a stop and he gets out.)
Me; Exactly. Love you. Have a good day.
Him: Whoa. (Getting bag and walking away. Then he turns and says) Hey, Thanks!
Me: (to myself, as I drive away.) Thanks be to God.

Buddy Jesus

Susan Rose and Mark have made their own Buddy Jesus. So here's mine, complete with halo and communion elements.




Notice they each have the same beard, all three have different hair, mine is in white, Mark's in everyday garb, and Susan Rose's a nice period costume. Mine and Mark's have a halo (denoting a high Christology?) and lighter skin. Mark portrays Jesus next to himself, Susan Rose portrays Jesus at the Sea of Galilee and I show Him at the Last Supper (but of course!)

Another Rule to add to my list of rules/things I have learned.

You can control what you say. But you cannot control what people hear and to whom or how they repeat it. They will add their own agenda or garbage.

Conversation in Living Room folding Laundry

Chaos: Mama – why do some Mamas only clean house?
Me: Only clean house?
Chaos: Yeah and feed kids food. (long pause) Mama, I think God is a woman.
Me: Why?
Chaos: Cause it’s easier to see God as more loving, caring and wise and stuff. (Huh, did she hear me talking or something?)
And men are only thinking about sports and beer and stuff and how much money they are going to make. And women are more complex because they think about more sides of stuff. But that’s only jocks, nerds think about computers all the time and ham radio. And that’s all they talk about at the supper table.
Me: You mean like your Daddy?
Chaos: Daddy thinks about how much money he’s going to make and computers and math and airplanes. But then again, you Mama only think about God and exegesis and big French words I don’t understand. Oh yeah, and writing papers and the kitty and blogging. (Theology is "big French words?")
Me: Huh. (I wonder if her Daddy was a minister, would she see God as male?)
Chaos: Maybe God is like a worm – he’s like both a male and a female, at the same time. Or maybe He doesn’t have a body – he’s like a ghost. (God the Ghostly Worm. Well that's one name I didn't come up with.) We were talking about how Jesus was like God and he rose from the dead and you know how the Muslim people like worship another person, but he died and he stayed dead. That was Muhammed, right? Does that mean he was just a really good prophet? He wasn’t God, like God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost.
Me: So what about God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost?
Chaos: Oh, that’s easy, He’s just multi-tasking. (All those years of debate, all that History of Christian Thought: Of course, God's just multi-tasking! Beautiful!)
Me: Huh. So Daddy doesn’t think about God?
Chaos: I don’t know. Yeah, but he’s just not so *obvious* like you.
Entropy: (Slow on the uptake) Hey, God is a man!
Me: Why is he a man?
Entropy: I don't know, He just is. Mama! The kitty is licking the fireplace! Silly, Silly, Silly, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty! (song of own composing)
Me: (fetching cat out of fireplace)
Chaos: Woman!
Entropy: Man!
Chaos: Woman!
Entropy: Man!
And so on.

Now *this* is more like it.

An Idealist. Yes. That's more like it. Without us Idealists, how would we know where we are going? Much better.

You scored as Idealist. Idealism centers around the belief that we are moving towards something greater. An odd mix of evolutionist and spiritualist, you see the divine within ourselves, waiting to emerge over time. Many religious traditions express how the divine spirit lost its identity, thus creating our world of turmoil, but in time it will find itself and all things will again become one. Idealist 75% Cultural Creative 69% Postmodernist 69% Fundamentalist 69% Romanticist 56% Existentialist 31% Materialist 19% Modernist 13% What is Your World View? (corrected...again) created with QuizFarm.com

(BTW, I *hate* non-standard HTML. Hate, hate, hate. (I've had to diddle with this three times now) (of course I say this because I have an idealistic view of the Web -- everyone should comply to the standards (even if they don't like them)))

Oh My!

I don't read my religious news feeds for a few days and I almost missed it -- Benny Hinn is upset that 4 million dollars is "wasted" and leaves Nigeria annoyed. He just didn't get enough converts or healings, I guess. I understand from the news feeds that he kept saying "4 million down the drain!" during the crusade. 3 million was spent on food and lodging -- Wow! Food and lodging for whom? For Hinn and his "infrastructure." At least the local economy was boosted. But it causes me to wonder -- How far would 4 million dollars go in feeding *the hungry* in this large country?

reference here.

::You will be assimilated::

Is it futile to hope for change? or Is resistance to change futile?

A quote:
The two men stood elbow to elbow with a single focus on the operating table-two men who could not share the same lunch table in the Hopkins cafeteria.

This is a line from a documentary about the Blalock/Taussig Shunt: about blue babies, discrimination and three dedicated people: Dr. Alfred Blalock, A white privileged brilliant surgeon and Dr. Vivien Thomas, his black high-school educated assistant, and Dr. Helen Taussig, a near deaf woman. These three dedicated pioneers deveolped modern heart surgery procedures. The movie “Something the Lord Made” produced by HBO films has to be one of the most intriguing and moving movies I have seen for a while.

A young black man goes to work for a disillusioned young white surgeon, -- a surgeon who did not get the residency he wanted and who had a brush with death in 1929. In the year the movie opens, 1930, the world was in chaos – the banks failing and jobs hard to come by. Vivien Thomas’ hopes are crushed before they have even chance to flower. He takes a position at Vanderbilt University’s Medical School and become the assistant of Dr. Alfred Blalock. He never obtains a degree – or the recognition he deserves. After many years of discrimination, he leaves to sell antacids to black doctors. He comes to an epiphany – he could do the work he loves and receive no credit or be denied the satisfaction of doing useful, meaningful work. He goes back to work for Dr. Blalock knowing that he would never be a surgeon himself – at least not for humans.

The movie resonated with me. I understand those complex emotions. Funny I should see this movie the week I have these same emotions swirling around in me. These little blue babies would not have been offered any relief without all three of these players around the table – the bitter white man, the black man who could not even enter the front door of Johns Hopkins and the deaf white woman. It took all three to fix a broken heart. Without all three, these damaged hearts, which typically were too “two sizes too small,” received an opportunity to grow – which offered an opportunity for the entire body to grow. It took all three to offer life.

There are persons who gather around the table today. Some are broken people themselves. Some will never have their recognition; some will never themselves be heard. But it takes us all to bring the body to growth. And there is grace to be found in that.

To quote and article in The Dome from Johns Hopkin, said by Andrea Kalin, the author of the PBS special “Partners of the Heart”
I could see Vivien over Blalock's shoulder, the two in a rhythm no one else could follow, in sync with an almost unwritten code. I wanted to describe and show this partnership-without dictating it. Still, the irony of the day just slaps you in the face. Vivien knew he played a valuable role. Was he bitter? No. Was there pain, was there disappointment? Yes.

I suppose the task is to not become bitter. Yes, women have been in the ministry for 50 years. Yes, we have come a long way. Is the treatment of women in the UMC always fair? Will it ever be completely, across the board fair? I don’t know. Is resistance futile? Will change, true change, come?