A Little Corner of My World

Monday Bullets (Sorry for list making tendency these days)

2012-01-23T10:34:00.002-05:00

I was asked to perform the song "Unforgettable" at a 30th wedding anniversary celebration Saturday night - a top-notch couple who are such a great example were honored by many. It was such fun to sing with a band. I do so enjoy it. But you probably knew that...

My brother and his wife spent the weekend. We didn't get to visit much, between their busy plans and our own, but we chatted for an hour or so before their departure. Family is wonderful and I so appreciated seeing them. I pray they were blessed and strengthened with words of wisdom and encouragement. I know I was encouraged by our visit! They are dear to me.

Read about the woman with the issue of blood (Luke 8.43-48). I love how Jesus isn't undone by crediting her action of faith (faith without works is dead) for her healing. He isn't afraid that His part in it will be diminished, He is not jealous of getting due credit. Instead He points out her part in it; her action of faith was noted ("Who touched me?"), as was the centurion's act of faith in Matthew 8. ("Go your way, and as you have believed, so let it be done for you.") Jesus acknowledged the man's faith and the part it played. Jesus doesn't seem caught up with fear that someone is trusting faith and not Him, for indeed, the faith is focused on Him. He knows that. That is all that is needed. We are so worried about semantics. We are so judgmental. Let's encourage faith, strengthen faith. Let's not make faith such a scary thing. ("What if my faith is misplaced? What if I've said this wrong? What if I'm taking credit for this? What if..." -- we've just "what iffed" them right out of simple faith!)

Off to take a shower. Looking for motivation to do some plain ol' physical labor and check some things off my list. Oh, don't worry. My list isn't ruling my life. In fact, I've been too readily setting it aside for days now. Time to buckle down. Do you suppose the shower will help? ;)

Bullets from another day...

2012-01-20T13:12:00.003-05:00

Luke 7:41-50 Simon fails to give Jesus water and a towel to wash his feet. The woman who loves much washes them with her own tears and hair. What do we know because of her great love? We know that she was forgiven much. Like this woman, we too need to know how deep our sin was and how thoroughly He has forgiven and loved us. Our actions would then be borne of love, deep love. We can imitate, follow rules, do the right thing, but if our deeds are not borne of true love, we should repent and ask God to help us, fill us, give us true love.
"Open our eyes, Lord, to see our great indebtedness. Let us love You and therefore others, according to the great love and mercy shown to us. Amen."
I love the sun-filled days of mid-January in northern NY. I did not always, but I do now. Someone who moved from the north to more southern climes to escape what was considered to be unpleasant weather recently expressed displeasure with the brown grass currently surrounding her. My assessment? Weather does not have to be a barometer for how good life is. You can allow it to be so, and be miserable for X amount of days each year, or you can delight in the day at hand. Since days are limited, I suggest making the most of each one, irregardless of temps and precipitation.

That said, I just finished reading Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys. It follows a young Lithuanian girl who was deported to Siberia in 1941. She returned to her home in 1954. She survived 13 years of Siberian winters. Unimaginable. Unbearably unimaginable. Please consider reading this book. If you teach school, use it in a unit study of WWII European history. It is excellent and intriguing. Finding the will to press on in that world of dark whiteness is... unimaginable. Unbearably unimaginable. My imagination often times readily transports me to various situations. When it doesn't, I find myself wishing to experience that thing first hand. This experience I'll skip altogether if possible.

The previously mentioned tree (see last post) will not come down yet again. It is finally starting to dry out. I think I missed my opportunity to remove it sans mess. Oh, well.

Little Buddy's surgery went well. Thank you all for praying. The doctor chuckled as he relayed to us Merrick's first words after waking: "What time is it? Will I be able to be home in time for youth group tonight?" Indeed, he was home in plenty of time. And the doc said if he's up for it, let him go. So, go, he did. What a boy! Seems like the perfect excuse to stay home and indulge in Wii. Well, he missed that one. ;)

Watched the entirety of last night's debate this morning on youtube with two students looking over my shoulders. I love how closely they follow and comprehend so many of the issues. They make comments and debate and question different positions. Great stuff, I must say. Have I ever mentioned that homeschool ROCKS?

God's goodness is often on trial. I am grateful for His goodness that is daily on display in the creation all around me, in the life of my son who sits at my table and studies, in the music of my daughter in the front room playing, in the sound of laughter, in the shared tears with my husband. These are all part of His design. We may think His plan is flawed. I say, His world is full of goodness and beauty that I behold each day. I yield to Him. I could not have created this great goodness. So I will trust Him to deal with all my unanswered questions in due time. And by the way, since I am not God, but He is, I think He's at least one up on me anyway. At least one.

Bullets

2012-01-19T08:15:00.002-05:00

Little buddy has surgery this morning around 11:00. An adenoidectomy. Been there done that when he was not yet three. But they've grown back and are quite enlarged, obstructing airways and prohibiting ear drainage. So, here we go again. Asking for God's blessing. If you read this, could you do the same? Thanks.

I chuckled at this GOP aide's attempted indictment against Ron Paul. Personally, I think he hung all the rest of them and aided in championing Paul's cause. Read for yourself:
"...the vote would be 434-1 -- he'd be the one, but he was the one who kind of put up the ideological goal posts -- this is where you should be if you're pure, and what we found is no one is really pure except Ron Paul," said John Feehery, veteran House Republican leadership aide.
Last night we hosted a family who has endured three years of devastating challenges - the loss of a pulpit, the failing of a business, and the death of their firstborn son. They have been in the valley and are still coming out. But their testimony is powerful: God speaking to them in the night season, God answering their prayer to really understand the cross and its meaning and power, their resounding declaration of His great goodness to them. If you think of them, pray that as they press on through the valley of despair, the rich anointing that is visiting them will only grow in grace and power.

Christmas has been slow to leave my house, if remaining decor represents "Christmas" to you. The tree is still lending beauty and light every evening. And every evening I say to everyone, "Enjoy it tonight - it's coming down tomorrow." Then tomorrow comes with unexpected twists and turns, and the tree survives one more day. Maybe we should trim it with hearts and call it a Valentine Tree.

The semester is shaping up to be a traveling semester. We will study some Spanish, head to Spain and possibly the DR with our two students in tow. Home school ROCKS!!!

"But may the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle [you]." 1 Peter 5:10

I think we forget an important part of this verse. It is not my favorite thing, this suffering stuff, but it seems to be a part of the package. We need to trust His plan in the midst of it, because He will perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle. He will. He is faithful to do good for His own. I am forever in debt to Him.

The sun is shining. The earth is crystal. Mid-winter delights. Don't miss them! Live today, embrace the beauty at hand. You will not walk here again.

Monuments and Mountains

2012-01-15T20:02:00.002-05:00

I've been hearing a consistent word: The rocks in the fields will become monuments. Mountains will be moved. How? Faith. Grace. Faith and grace.

I am desperate for rocks to be removed. Desperate, I tell you. I remember studying about the giants in the land, the enemies of God's people. Remove them all. Don't doubt that He can do it. I've believed before. Then I grew weary, tired of believing. Forgive me, Lord.

And now? He's stirring up faith. I'm believing with earnest faith. And I see once again. Things have become accepted that He doesn't want me to accept. Weaknesses have been claimed as my own when He wants me instead to rule over them. Giants have been allowed to dwell within His borders because I've allowed them in my life, and I belong to Him. I am His territory, I am not the giants' land.

I don't know how it will happen. I don't know exactly when it will happen. I only know one thing: I cannot do it; it will be all Him. I pray to know how to cooperate, and it is His grace that will allow me to know. I ask for the strength to act upon that knowledge, and it will be His grace that strengthens me. I cannot do this. I've tried. Again and again. And again.

No matter. He builds monuments. He moves mountains. My faith merely allows me to participate. Somehow. And even that is a mystery.

No matter. It's no mystery to Him.

Catching My Breath

2012-01-06T20:47:00.002-05:00

The holidays swirled in quickly this year. Not that that is unusual, is it?

So, there has been little chance until now to contemplate a year finished, another just unfolding.

Over all? It was a long, hard year. Difficulties multiplied. I had considered the previous year challenging, but I have learned to endure even more as the days and weeks of 2011 passed. Good lessons, but hard. He has taught me well. He does all things well.

The year also brought much joy: courtship, engagement, and a wedding, for instance. I watched daughters and sons grow in gifts of music, directing, teaching, and guiding. A granddaughter arrived to us in August. I have grown in my understanding of seasons. They have grown in their love for Him. This is joy.

A new church site was established in Potsdam. This has meant Rick preaches two times every Sunday. But with the new year there is a sense of something new in the air. Rick is sensing a change; something new is coming. We wait to see exactly what it will look like. Writing. Travel. We will allow Him to lead.

And the change effects all of us. How can it not? Our two remaining in school will be swept up in the change, I am sure. That will be exciting to see as well.

So, to Him who holds the year in His hands, I bow. I surrender all to Him, more and more readily as the years pass. He can be trusted with them all.

Tidings of Christmas

2011-12-19T17:38:00.002-05:00

An excitement about seeing so many I love is overtaking me.

Festivities of Christmas unfold.

May they be filled with love and wonder for everyone everywhere. Amen.

A Mother's Christmas Story

2011-12-10T11:37:00.005-05:00

In morning's semi-conscious state I enter the Corridor leading to December's festive snow-frigid corner of the world as the crystal-crunching, snow-slushing plow rumbles along the avenue, a harbinger of winter whiteness and Christmas. Awakened and aware, faux-fur slippers and fleecy robe are donned hurriedly while scurrying down the stair in the half-light of dawn as moonlight gives way to the glimmer of the sunrise horizon. Pristine, clean, a new day, a fresh-washed scene.

The final leaf of the whimsy-filled record of illustrated months is turned, unveiling December's crown of Christmas celebration, calling for weeks of preparation and joy making.

Old meets new as boxes and bins from darkened attic corners spill forth glistening glass balls; spangled, jangling jingle bells; familiar figures fired and painted by Grandma's own hand. Boughs once born on billowing pines find purpose in vacant vases and gaping baskets. Greenery garlands prickle mantle and pane as candlelight's glow warms the descending chill darkness.

In the kitchen, burnished tones of Bing and Buble', Diana and Ella mingle and bake into the nutmeg-cinnamon spiced air. Sentimental sounds of carol singing and duet playing drift in from the front room, accompanying precision-stacked snow-covered rum logs, tumbled shiny-faced sugar cookies, and mounded powdery pecan balls; confections and delights fill the table, the counters, readied for assembly on holly-leaved platters to later adorn dessert buffets and family room coffee tables.

Another December ritual soon begins. A brown-colored delivery vehicle, like a treasure-laden camel, pulls to a stop in front of the house. A matching brown-colored delivery person emerges and, tossing boxes on the porch, rings the bell then scurries away quickly (and more and more so as the days and weeks pass) back to the waiting brown cavern. A thrill emanates and reverberates as I, too, now scurry quickly (and more and more so as the days and weeks pass) to the front door where I whisk the packages away lest errant eyes spy a return address label: Barnes and Noble, Old Navy, American Girl Dolls. The time for such revelation has not yet come.

The stash of bags and boxes bulges; clutter consumes and in spite of magnanimous efforts toward order, my room becomes a whirlwind of clandestine activity. Colorful paper scraps and remnants of ribbon curl in the corners. A kaleidoscope of rolled patterns - red and green plaid, blue and gold angels, snowmen and santas, stars and berries - transform the ordinary into magical mystery.

A tree has been gotten. Fresh, pungent scent. Arms that welcome the pretties we love: lights full of color, ornaments both simple and elegant stored away all year for this special time, and Michael the angel. Nothing quite compares with this best beauty. Magical-mystery boxes now find places under the tree where they await the moment of revelation. But first they must endure prodding and shaking and pinching.

Music, music, and more music - choral ensembles are dreamed and schemed and rehearsed, piano duets bring daily delight, schmaltzy songs are composed, party-goers encircle the black baby grand and sing, sing, sing! The sounds of Christmas echo long into the dark night, long after all are tucked into bed.

Jesus' birth, the gift of God to mankind, His gift of love. This is true love, this is mercy, this is joy and hope and peace; peace with God, peace with one another, peace with oneself. When weariness attempts to dampen the spirit, when cynicism at celebration gone wrong creeps toward me, I remember, I recall. This all began with Him. His was the great offering, the first and best gift. I will always keep Christmas because He should always be remembered.

As the season ends and boxes are returned to attic corners, as scraps are swept away and cookie platters emptied, I sigh. Another magical occasion is completed, put away for remembering someday, for reaching back and pondering and reminiscing.

For now, in the dark and snow-quieted wonderland of a wintery new year, I rest.

"How To Live Before You Die" thoughts. Part 1

2011-11-14T07:21:00.006-05:00

Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work, and the only way to do great work is to love what you do.

From Steve Jobs address to Stanford Graduates 2005

Steve Jobs' life was certainly an American story built upon ingenuity, capitalism, hard work, adventure and risk taking. He accomplished what most of us merely dream of. He followed hard after the things that intrigued, the stuff he loved -- and it paid off in many ways. He was a fortunate man, the epitome of the American dream, doing what he loved to do, gaining influence and wealth and, apparently, satisfaction. By all means, let us look, listen, and learn.

And so we all read his words. Lofty words. Inspiring for some.

"... the only way to do great work is to love what you do."

Am I saying it is bad to do what you love to do? No! Hey, if that works out for you, then Oh Happy Day! But to say that satisfaction comes only by doing what you "...believe is great work, and the only way to do great work is to love what you do" is actually somewhat condescending, revealing a measure of unknowing.

These words may very well be somewhat defeating for many who aren't in a situation that will allow such -- pardon my saying so -- self-indulgence. Some folks, actually the vast majority of people on this planet, have a simpler goal called survival. They are not middle class Americans. They work where they can, do what they know to do, eat the food they can afford, and are blessed to learn to appreciate the simple things in life. Forget the American dream.

Consider the Nepali who works the field all day (the same family field that great-grandfather worked) to provide sustenance for his family. I submit that he is doing a truly great work, a responsible work, a wise and not foolish work. Maybe he would rather be putting out to sea in an unknown vessel, leaving it all behind, searching for the dream of doing what he loves. Well, I vote for caring for the family myself. Is his work really in vain? Might he possibly know satisfaction in spite of doing a job he does not "love"?

Or how about the eleven year old son who cares for the younger sister when mom and dad are mercilessly killed by guerrilla gunfire? Is it not possible for him to find satisfaction in the fruit of his labor and care rather than in the labor itself? I pray to God it might be so, for his lot in life is more common to the common folk than the fairytale of the man who becomes the richest man in the world by doing what he loves to do.

Let's note this: The audience to whom these words were addressed perhaps were already several notches above such lifestyles. Let's remember that. And let's remember the small percentage of humanity they represent.

That said, I recommend looking for an approach to life that meets all men right where they are, unlimited by their circumstance of education, social clime, health, or wealth. Let's search for a philosophy that lifts the broken and meets the need of the downcast orphan in Ugandan city streets, that brings satisfaction to a man whether he is in prison or sitting in a palace throne atop the highest mountain. If the purpose for living doesn't apply to everyone, it's not really a purpose for life.

Those of you who can search for satisfaction and purpose in the "doings" of your life, "do" all you can. See if you find a message for the one suffering from starvation through pursuing a life of satisfaction in your own "doing". Share your hope in doing what you love with the 50 year old man whose life has been devastated and broken by drugs and alcohol, leaving a trail of broken relationships in his wake. Go ahead and tell him that the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work, and the only way to do great work is to love what you do. True, he may be totally inspired and charge ahead full speed ahead. But more likely he will hang his head even lower in defeat.

Nope. I'm not buying it. This is the pursuit of happiness twisted and perverted. Americans have fallen prey to the "happiness guru", to borrow a favorite phrase from Sandra Bullock's character in While You Were Sleeping. We idolize personal happiness and have become a self-centered, immature, disrespectful culture. "You deserve a break today." "Have it your way." It's all about us -- or so we have been lulled into believing.

Let's champion the man who sacrifices his personal pursuit of happiness for the sake of something bigger than himself. Let's honor that woman who sets aside her own agenda and longings so that she can find a greater joy in serving others. Let's acknowledge the youngster who shows deference to his elder by listening with respect and answering politely when spoken to, showing an ability to set aside his own foolish impulses to blurt out, "I already KNOW this!"

Self-seeking is small, inclusive by definition. It's focus is tiny. Do self-seeking people sometimes accomplish big things? Yup, they do. That doesn't mean they should be iconized. Nope. Not at all.

Unending ending

2011-11-06T20:55:00.005-05:00

We mentioned chapters. Life-chapters relegated to memory files.

Evanescent.
Intangible.

Where do they go? What happens?
Yellowed, crumbling pages. Photos indistinct, losing clarity.

Dim.
Faded.

A lifetime comprised of mini-lifetimes, moving necessarily through the story, waking to a new setting. Sometimes

Optimistic.
Contented.

Maybe

Doleful.
Tentative.

And inevitably

Grievous.
Lamentable.

Until that Day.
His Day.
The one He owns.

The chapter eternal opens.
The one I'm waiting for.

Undoing Idols

2011-11-04T19:15:00.002-05:00

Their idols are merely things of silver and gold, shaped by human hands. Psalm 115.4

Idols cannot see, hear, speak, feel, think. They are lifeless, and yet people live for them. Statues may be passe', but academics, money, fame, and career are current idols popular to American culture.

And those who make idols are just like them, as are all who trust in them. Psalm 115.8

Well, that's not very nice, is it. The Word of God is seldom milk toast. This slights the majority of the populace, you and I included unless we are careful to take routine inventory and ruthlessly tear down the idols.

All In a Day

2011-10-17T06:22:00.002-05:00

Brightly colored bottles of nail polish sit beside couches and chairs where only hours earlier pretty ladies added finishing touches. On the dining table I see varying shades of peach and rust spools of thread with needles, left right where skilled hands made last minute repairs. Hair blower attachments nestle on a side table amidst autumnal decor of Pilgrim figures and turkeys in a corner of the room that had temporarily become a salon. On the floor can be found dropped petals from artfully arranged bouquets.

And my empty front room boasts a single upholstered chair, carefully positioned in dead center, where a beautiful bride poised with ten lovely ladies for photos to commemorate a once in a life time day.

The preparations had been made, we were whisked away for a celebration of something miraculous - God making two people one. Receptions followed, beautiful and joyful. Songs, music, dancing, laughter and happy wishes. Blessings pronounced and the two who were one departed.

Home again at last and this is what remains of the day.

I sigh. I shed more than just a tear. One plans and schemes for weeks, arranging menus, schedules, and ceremony. We contemplate each hour. We slice the day into the necessary slivers. Every detail is considered to make each and every moment count. But at the end of the day there are yet only 24 hours. Nothing done can alter or amend that number. Believe me, I've tried.

And now her side of the bed is empty, her closet is empty. Even her piano is gone.

I sigh once again.

But she is off to a new adventure, and her God is with her, always beside her. He has blessed her with a wonderful man whose heart's passion is to serve his God, her God. I am happy and thrilled to see their future unfold.

And even so, this mama's heart is a bit achy this morning. I hope that's okay. I am pretty sure that Josiah will understand. I think his mama's heart is a bit achy, too.

Without Him

2011-09-04T02:44:00.002-05:00

Life without Jesus.
Aching. Unimaginably void of boundless love. Did you hear? Did you understand? Void of love that knows no end, no limit, no confining boundary.
Purpose wearing thin,
shallow,
threadbare and spent.
Impoverished. Full of nothing save self seeking.
"Who am I? What am I doing? Where am I going?"
Questions reverberating off questions, echoing in empty chambers of hearts.
I search for hope. I find none -- only in Him.

Life without Jesus is no life at all.

Him

2011-08-11T19:07:00.004-05:00

Gardens filled with perennial blooms in perfect order provide a feast for my eyes and soul.
Music, all kinds, entertains and thrills my being, to the very core. I tingle with joy, am moved with passion.
Vermeer, van Gogh, Rembrandt, Whistler and so many more leave me enamored.
I can spend hours blissfully flipping through upholstery samples, decorating a myriad of owned and imagined rooms in my mind.
Ballet, jazz, ballroom dancing. Backs arching, feet extending, moving and swaying, making magic with space and rhythm. I love to dance, I love to see dance.
Travel to foreign places, the study of history, culture and people fascinate and tantalize my imagination.

But all this pales. Really pales. The passing years prove it is so. For these wonderful things show themselves to be passing, holding my attention less and less. One thing alone, singularly, means more and more, ceaselessly, with growing intensity. Amazingly.

There is One who rivets my devotion. At the end of the day, or when morning has dawned, throughout the hours of routine or adventure, I find myself remembering Him, thinking of Him, wanting to please Him, and loving Him more and more.

This is a love unending. This is Love itself.

2011-07-25T19:52:00.002-05:00

Crows and Locusts by Brooke Fraser

It was the year
The crows and the locusts came
The fields drained dry the rain
The fields are bleeding

"Daddy don't cry, it'll be alright"
She puts some water on the wound
And hums a little tune
While her courage puddles on the ground
Pooling, pooling

See the murder and the swarm descend
And the night is getting thick
The moon telling her tricks
She'd betray her every time

It was the year
The crows and the locusts came
The fields drained dry the rain
The fields are bleeding

It was the age
The foxes came for the fields
We were bleeding as we bowed to kneel
And prayed for mercy, prayed for mercy

The rumble is low and the heat is high
Got a feeling that there's rain out in the oil black sky
Gonna chase away the devil when that sun does rise
Gonna plead the blood
Gonna plead the blood

It was the year
The crows and the locusts came
The fields drained dry the rain
The fields are bleeding

It was the age
The foxes came for the fields
We were bleeding as we bowed to kneel
And prayed for mercy, prayed for mercy

One of the Tumbling Thoughts

2011-06-23T09:50:00.003-05:00

Order In the House

I am revisiting and taking a fresh look at women's issues. Today I'm thinking especially of a simple idea or two that helps establish more order in homes with young children underfoot. Let's be real -- sometimes they are underfoot!

At the same time, I’ve got boundaries. I’m a no nonsense kind of mother. I’ve got too many kids to let everyone have their whim and fancy. If I let them have their way, we’d have an entire farm full of animals and Coco Puffs for breakfast this morning.

Amy Scott for Amy's Humble Musings

This woman was writing about a simple idea, but one we often forfeit or overlook: we don't have to let them set the pace. Their whim and fancy does not need to be indulged.

"But what if I say no and stifle their creative impulse?" "Maybe I'll damage their psyche." "What if they really need to express their individuality this way?"

Voices of Parents Magazine, your neighbor, the professor in your child psychology class all echo in your brain. It's frightening and intimidating. Because we have strayed from a basic understanding of God's plan to father us through training, discipline, and denial of our every whim, we no longer embrace these things with confidence. We do not experience these principles as a culture; somewhere along the way they were tossed aside and now we are afloat on a sea with no mooring. Every few years a new wave of questions and concerns emerge, challenging the mode of parenting that just five years earlier was the new rage.

Parents are tied in knots, the kiddos run the show more and more, much to their detriment. Remembering that we are raising children who will one day be adults is important. Then, remembering that adults are better off if they have learned to control their impulses and deny themselves of being ruled by whim and fancy, which empowers them to live responsibly instead of whimsically, we might have a clue as to how to train our children.

Back to just a couple simple ideas.
1) Do NOT give your child a snack every time he says, "Mama, I'm hungry." Do not give them juice every time they say they are thirsty. Always have water available, but juice and food can be limited to table time and meal time.

First of all, it makes life easier for you. There are not constant interruptions requiring you run to the kitchen, to clean up crumbs, etc. Your work in the home is important and needs attention, usually more than their fleeting desire to have a fruit roll up or Goldfish snack. Secondly, they will be healthier in the long run by learning to control their appetites, not relying on food for entertainment.

Obviously, this assumes that you will feed them nutritional meals at appropriate times. Knowing that lunch or snack time is planned, you can then respond confidently (when Johnny asks for munchies at 9:00am), "We had a nice breakfast just an hour or two ago, and Mom has a plan for the next meal/snack time. You can wait until then."

Keeping a water bottle available at all times is a simple way to ensure that they are getting the necessary fluids. If they refuse to drink water, they are probably not altogether in need of liquid refreshment. Of course there are exceptions to this, but not typically. It is a matter of training them to like clear, fresh water -- something health consultants everywhere agree is most important to our well being.

2) Do NOT allow your children to get out a toy without your permission. Do NOT allow your children to begin a new activity without cleaning up the previous activity.

Simply put, children will go from toy to toy, activity to activity with no regard to the cycle of the home or the mess being created.

You know whether there is enough time before lunch to get out Playmobil and build an entire village. They don't. Therefore they should ask, you should consider the general welfare of the home, and make an educated decision. Do NOT be afraid to say, "No, this is not a good time for Playmobil. Why don't you sit on the couch and read for the next 15 minutes until lunch is ready." Whining and crying may ensue, especially if your child is not accustomed to putting off his desires to embrace yours (and yours are the ones in tune with the general welfare of the entire home) but persevere. He will learn. As an emerging adult, the lesson learned will be invaluable.

Learning to put things away PROPERLY before moving on to new activities is also invaluable for the home, for your well being, and for the child. That lesson will serve him well for the rest of his days. So, although it may be difficult to implement initially, it is essential.

One final word: be confident in exerting your authority.

You are allowed to wake up, check your plans for the day, and decide that for the morning you want them to play with Playmobil. Not coloring, not dress-up, not outdoor play, but Playmobil. You can require that of them. Such parameters allow them to create, play together, and make a memory while it confines them in a way that causes them to stretch their attention span, their creative resources, and their social skills. When the morning is over, they can pick up the Playmobil -- or you can allow them to leave it out, but ONLY if they continue play after lunch. If they want to move on to a new activity after the allotted time, they must put it ALL away. Then they need to ask permission regarding the next activity.

Another day you may decide that they need to play outdoors for the next 1 1/2 hours while you deep clean a room. You can do that. You are free to send them out to play. They have water available, they know outdoor play rules, you will check them routinely, but you will insist that they engage in outdoor play. You are free to do this. It is not harmful. It is good. It is directed play. It will benefit them. And when they are done, they need to pick up the yard, put away the scooter, bring the toys to the shelves, etc.

YOU are the CEO of the home. YOU decide what is best for the general order and productivity and health of your home. They cannot. They do NOT have the experience, knowledge, or maturity to consider their own real needs let alone the needs of others. They need you to set the pace, to order their steps, and to care for them in this very practical way.

Chewing On Lots -- Here's a Morsel

2011-06-14T05:57:00.004-05:00

Politics, scripture, family plans, scripture, and music.

Thinking and pondering afresh some life issues. Taking a close look at scripture. What else do you read when looking at such crucial concepts? I'll be writing about some findings in the not too distant future. Lots of thoughts swirling around and I'll need to sort them out a bit before putting them out there for public scrutiny!

In the midst of contemplation one must also live life. So I plan family happenings, smile at happy news, talk about politics in the kitchen while baking bread, patch up a skinned knee now and then, agonize over difficult situations, and pray.

And for fun? Have I been in the gardens? Unfortunately for the perennials, no. The weeds are getting the best of them, I'm afraid. This year my thoughts have turned to song instead of flowers.

The result of such a turning? Yearning to make some great music, my song loving daughter and I are planning a summer dessert night cabaret! Details will be published soon, and in the meantime I'm perusing all of the recently purchased songbooks. She's searching out favorite youtube performances. And together we're making lists in hopes of putting together an entertaining evening of song to share with an interested audience.

Stay tuned for more reports and details. Hopefully it will be light-hearted, sparkly, and summery. This I guarantee: it will be fun -- or we won't bother to do it at all!

May 10, 13, 18, & 28

2011-05-22T17:10:00.005-05:00

May tends to be busy. Musical rehearsals and productions, test days, concerts, etc. Add to that the above very special days: birthdays of 4 of my children.

So, the birthday child gets a card, a gift, and special greetings. Maybe even a dinner. But the party tous en famille happened today. Scores of celebrants crowded around the porch, enjoying the first grilled burgers of the summer, sharing words of appreciation with our birthday kiddos, delighting in beautifully decorated cakes and desserts, oohing and ahhing over gifts, and enjoying this reason to pause and remember God's gift of life. He does all things well and it is a pleasure to recite our awareness of graces and talents and character traits invested in these people we have grown to treasure.

I can readily imagine years going by without words accurately describing our affection. It could be neglected for untold time. That's sad. Therefore I'm grateful for the cycle of months and years, the reminder the calendar brings each year of these precious lives in our midst. We get to tell them all we've seen God do in them and through them. It is wonderfully good stuff. I love it!

So, today Merrick, Liana, Julia, and Jamie were all reminded that they are anointed leaders amongst their peers. They received words of love and encouragement, such as...

Merrick: "I appreciate your enthusiasm. You are a person who plans and envisions. You are fun!"

Liana: "I appreciate your ability to show God's love to children and for your example of true worship. You are strong and gentle and beautiful. You bring God into situations."

Julia: "You've shown real maturity in seeking God for His answer. I admire that. I love how you always take time for people, and you listen attentively to everyone. Thank you for loving me."

Jamie: "I appreciate your unflinching conviction, your genuine worldview and how it shapes your life choices. You are an example within your own generation. I LOVE to hear you teach."

Living Lessons from Galatians 4.19

2011-05-19T21:00:00.001-05:00

Do you know how I feel right now, and will feel until Christ's life becomes visible in your lives? Like a mother in the pain of childbirth. (The Message)

My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you... (NKJV)

My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you... (KJV)

Paul writes of travail, intense laboring with pain and sorrow and anguish, a birthing -- so that he might see Christ formed in these, his beloved Galatians. He writes in present tense; the story isn't completed. He is writing while yet in the pangs of childbirth.

He had travailed on their behalf once before, when he first saw them established in the knowledge of Christ's provision. His previous labor had brought them deliverance from idols and gained them salvation through Christ.

But here we are, finding that they have wandered from the solid truth of the gospel, embracing the law, rather than the liberty of grace. And so, he finds himself once again in the pains of childbirth, desperate to see them go on to maturity, committed to their continued well-being.

The passage does not imply a need for renewed regeneration. Paul is, however, clearly concerned about their need to apprehend Christ -- that they might be, as Matthew Henry wrote, "...more confirmed and established in the faith of the gospel." They were in danger of being side-tracked, not maturing, failing to grasp all He had for them.

And so Paul labored once more. He travailed, anguished. He felt pain and sorrow. I'm willing to bet that he spent time on his face, weeping before God, moaning with grief for the lost time, the lost treasure in their heavenly account. Not afraid, but deeply moved with sadness.

Childbirth is arduous, exhausting, inescapable. Waves of discomfort, (dare I say it?) pain, sweep over you. I distinctly recall saying to my doctor, when in the midst of such pain and sorrow, "It's a good thing there's a baby at the end of all this."

Paul travailed with hope. He had a vision, a goal. He entrusted God with his labor -- the first time, the second time, and I'm sure, every time.

I will do the same.

Memorable Birthday Moments

2011-05-14T09:13:00.004-05:00

Little buddy laid in his hospital bed, telling the doctor that he just wanted to be home for his birthday.

Initially I thought there might be an outside chance. But as surgery became a realization rather than suggested option, the chances decreased in manifold measure. We had to begin to break the news to him that it would not be happening.

Tears of sadness and emotional disappointment swept over him. Time and time again. On Thursday night, as midnight approached and he was watching the clock, the tears flowed once again. These parents prayed with him, asking God to make his birthday special and memorable, even if it was not what he had hoped for.

And prayer is heard.

Friday breakfast hour arrived. He opened the gift bag we presented to him. Not too impressive, I think he felt.

But then the parade began. Friends with gifts, balloons, cards. A birthday gift bag from the hospital gift shop, a birthday lunch tray replete with a "candled" bowl of green jello. (Hey, you do what you can do!) One after another, the parade continued. Siblings all streamed in with birthday wishes and treats. More cards, candy, toy cars, and action figures. One dear couple brought him a brand new Wii game! Now his eyes were really lighting up! Cards with money -- one with $50 (that's more than this boy has ever had all at one time!)

Love, prayers, gifts, hugs -- he was showered with love and attention. Two of his favorite guys spent the whole evening with him playing Wii, watching cartoons, and holding his hand when pain swept him away.

So, if you want a really special birthday, just let God arrange it. He does much better than I do!

And if you feel like playing a game of Wii, I know one young man who is a ready contender these days!

In Thanksgiving for Motherhood

2011-05-07T23:08:00.004-05:00

Little Miss Pink we dubbed her, although the pinkest part was her clothing. The rest was all peaches and cream. And beauty that arrested this mother's heart, as first born marvels do. I was speechless, aching with awe. So this was mother-love. Who could have known?

Dark haired, red all over, entirely different, but overwhelmingly lovely. Pouting lips and squeals. She won my heart all over again with her perfection. "How is that possible," this still somewhat new mother wondered. Thoroughly won, my heart was hers. Love was multiplied, not divided.

Red-headed, delightful, and a joy to my heart. When we traveled people would ask how I got such a pleasant baby, so happy all the time. A deep joy she brought to my heart. I was learning more about enjoying every moment and she made it easy to learn.

Robust and gentle, quiet with a husky cry, soon to have blond curls and lopsided dimples. A man-child. A boy who would someday boast of his first pair of pocket pants. My pride and joy. This mother's heart could barely contain such pleasure. I held him close, knowing...

A girl was given me of sweet and pleasant disposition. Her ivory skin, peachy hair, and blue eyes charmed me. She was our gift. We understood more and more clearly. Treasure was within, and her gentle nature needed careful tending. Such beauty, delicate and fine.

Brunette, round, and dimpled. Adorable in every way. This daughter with gray blue eyes and dark locks would be my Follette girl -- the babe I had imagined as a sister all those years ago. Now she was mine to snuggle and cuddle and love beyond imaginable measure. God knew.

She arrived amidst songs of praise and prayer to the Father of Life. Gratefulness flooded my soul for her precious life. She was mine to discover. He entrusted her to me, this babe with twinkling eyes and precocious smile. A Princess girl, mine to love, mine to share. His gift.

An eternal soul. God granted me partnership in creating such a wondrous beauty. She brought to me an awareness of the bigness of this plan -- He was delighted with her; she was His desire. And I was His plan for her and how completely I loved her. I was in awe once again.

A final blessing. Unexpected in many ways. Cherished from the first, protected by God, this second man-child allowed me to be poured out in even greater measure. He is the son of my old age, I say. Small of stature but a profound revelation of God's power. And His great love.

Thank you, God, for all you've given so generously to me, and for allowing me to experience the gift of motherhood.

To be a mother, this is the rarest gift in the world. Forbid, that we just have children and that is all - when everyday offers the unwrapping of wondrous, holy grace. Ann Voskamp

An Evening of Entertainment!

2011-05-06T08:53:00.002-05:00

Do you love the rustle of silk, the playfulness of lace ruffles, the elegance of gold brocade?

Have you had the privilege of admiring the graceful minuet danced by ladies and gentlemen thus adorned?

Do "happy ever afters" and "once upon a times" charm you into a smile?

Perhaps you should join us for an evening of such pleasures:

CFA Drama Group Presents

Cinderella's Glass Slipper

Book by Vera Morris
Music & Lyrics by Bill Francoeur

May 13 & 14
7:30pm curtain

CFC Auditorium

Donations Gladly Accepted!

Swirls of Details

2011-05-03T05:51:00.004-05:00

It's that season again -- musical theater production week is right around the corner, a quick U-turn on my calendar and there it is!

What does that mean to me, the director? My mind spins with thoughts of scenes yet to be mastered, dances to be practiced, lines wanting more definition of character.

And for a director like me who, of necessity, has her hands involved in props, costumes, playbills and ad sales, theater set-up, etc. the list of details continues.

1. When will that bulk order of buttons arrive?
2. Who can create the lace cuffs and collars?
3. Will I be able to borrow 3-5 more ball gowns from the nearby university theater department?
4. Plan a photo shoot with 2-3 costumed students.
5. Where can I find a "throne" this time around?
6. Add a basket and bread to the props list.
7. Send out a request for more student artwork, student reports, photos, etc. for the playbill.
8. Oh, dear, speaking of the playbill... student info must be collected -- SOON!
9. Contact sound guys to order new mics.
10. Should I buy some gold gimp to add that really special touch to those royal long coats?
11. Time to start the next list. This one is too long...

...okay. Next page...

Well, I won't bore you with the next page. Or the next. Or the next...

You get the point.

Where would I be without pen and paper to sort out such thoughts in the wee morning hours? Lists are my proverbial saving grace these days. Merely proverbial, mind you.

My Appreciation for Josh

2011-05-01T19:58:00.002-05:00

I've known him all his life; I watched him as a baby, laughed at his boyhood antics, patiently encouraged him as a youth, and more recently had the privilege of seeing him become a man of God filled with zeal and purpose. It has been good. Very good.

And tonight he successfully completed a crowning accomplishment. Josh played his hour long senior recital, including works by Schumann, Ravel, Prokofiev, and Liszt. And he played wonderfully! As one friend said, "He triumphed!"

My hat is off to Josh for the dedication to see this through. It was a job well done!

Wonderfully well done!

Minuet, Anyone?

2011-04-27T22:25:00.004-05:00

Bet you haven't studied minuets much lately. I mean the actual dance.

Maybe you never did study the minuet. I can't say I ever really did.

Cinderella will dance the minuet with her prince. That's how we're doing this production, anyway. Set in 1780's, we are taking our fashion cues from Marie Antoinette and her court. The ballroom action will be set with Mozart's Menuetto from Don Giovanni, a familiar "tune" by a popular composer at that time. The dance, both elegant and delightful, will serve to entertain our audience, no doubt.

And so, what have I been doing? Researching steps, patterns, hand movement, and foot positioning. It is a most graceful and refined dance. Quite charming. And more than adequate for Prince Charming himself.

Guess you may want to come see for yourself!

2011-04-22T05:57:00.004-05:00

The crux of all we believe, summed up in one Holy and magnificent event.

His justice, truth, mercy, kindness, and faithfulness proven.

His power, glory, majesty, and greatness revealed.

His plan, salvation, redemption, and help made manifest.

It is Resurrection Day.

Come celebrate Easter, our triumphant Holy day!

trouble

2011-04-19T06:51:00.006-05:00

Aching heart, waiting,
Looking for His help alone.
Eyes fixed on His Hand.

Sometimes you just have to hold on. Sometimes there are storms on the waters. Hold fast. He still holds you, He will yet have His way.

Oh, God, we wait on You, for oh, God, is there any other Saviour? We look to You.

In Search of Wisdom

2011-04-09T15:29:00.004-05:00

Our wisdom is but foolishness compared to His.

How inconsequential are the multitudinous volumes of mankind's combined thought and conjecture. If there is a God who was brilliant enough to create all of this, why should we suppose for one moment that we can imagine a single iota of His brilliance, or comprehend His mind, or circumvent His will, or design a better plan?

Oh, God, help us to humbly acknowledge that our thoughts are not your thoughts, nor out ways your ways. Yours are inestimably higher.

Be God's fool - that's the path to true wisdom. What the world calls smart, God calls stupid. It's written in Scripture, He exposes the chicanery of the chic.
1 Corinthians 3.19 The Message

Book Study in My Family Room

2011-04-07T17:32:00.006-05:00

The Help. By Kathryn Stockett. A best seller for 98 weeks. Soon to be a movie.

It is the book being read by a literature group comprised of high school students, their moms, friends, and neighbors -- right here. We recently finished To Kill a Mockingbird, the perfect precursor for our current read. The Help is the story of black women working for white women as domestics in the deep south at the beginning of the civil rights movement. Insightful, to say the least.

Last weekend I read several chapters out loud to my husband as we rode home from Rochester. The novel is narrated by three different voices, all in Southern dialects. To say I had a lot of fun reading it would be an understatement, and honey loved it, too!

I couldn't put the book down, and read through it in no time. Our weekly assignments are 6 chapters at a clip, so now I get to review each week.

Meanwhile I have been inspired to check out some additional reading materials from the local library -- books that were referenced in the novel. I have Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, The Catcher in the Rye, and Invisible Man on my nightstand. One more will be borrowed: Black Like Me.

I am thoroughly enjoying the study of this period of American history. The Help is set in Jackson, Mississippi in 1962. I was seven years old at that time -- too young to know what was happening, and the history was too current to be studied in school. And so, I feel as though I'm viewing a scene through a window that I've not closely observed before. Fascinating. Bona fide fascination.

Tomorrow night some of us will supplement the study by watching Driving Miss Daisy. And we've only just begun brainstorming additional resources. We were told about an upcoming miniseries on the Kennedy family. And PBS will be airing a show on Freedom Riders. Something tells me it will take some doing to exhaust the possibilities!

If you are free on Thursday afternoons at 1:00 you are welcome to drop in and join the discussion. You just might learn a thing or two. I know I am!

New Lands

2011-04-04T08:49:00.005-05:00

I think I was born for adventure. The funny part? I'm not very brave.

But I have a hard time tolerating the status quo. Sometimes I'm too eager for something new. I'm one of those that must heed the admonition to not "change just for sake of change." I must remember that "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

I've always figured that if we've done it that way before, we shouldn't do it that way again. Huh... That might not always be wisdom, do ya s'pose?

At any rate, I'm bursting with the need to break out of what has begun to feel like the norm. And this time I'm pretty sure it's not just a reaction to status quo. I'm pretty sure the norm has become too comfortable, too compromised, too apathetic, too satisfying.

Time to shake it up, stir it up, and strike out for new lands, unknown territory. There's more to apprehend in God, more of the world to leave behind, more "glory to glory" to attain. Maybe -- actually undoubtedly -- more death to embrace. Now doesn't that sound like fun.

So I'm reminding myself that without sacrifice there is no fire. Without giving there is no gain. Without death there is no life. But without life there is no point in living. If that makes any sense...

I'm looking at my life, feeling challenged to put away the pretty things, the fun stuff, the easy ways. I'll need help to press on. I've grown a bit tired, weary. So I won't move on in my strength -- it'll have to be His.

And moving on is what I want. 'Cause I'm not resting here. Not yet. Not ever, I hope.

Cleaning

2011-04-01T06:30:00.004-05:00

Sorting through old things. Habits, traditions, books, Easter and Christmas decor, t-shirts and jeans, those "do it this way because we always do" things, etc. Nothing is exempt from inspection; nothing gets a pass.

So I ask repeatedly, day after day: Why do we have this? What is the purpose, the need, the reason? Is the need truly significant, the purpose unique enough to require this habit or thing alone?

A bit tiring and tedious. Brain-frying and overwhelming. But freeing. Letting go of stuff, patterns, "always do-s", and even ways of thinking.

Maybe spring is coming after all. :)

Hard Ground in Late March

2011-03-29T06:02:00.007-05:00

Winter's hold is present in my world this morning. The earth outside my door has not yet been induced to soften and yield. It yet maintains a frigid state, awaiting the long hours of spring sunshine which will bring warmth, releasing it at last from the grasp of winter cold.

The gardeners are longing to get started, but it is not yet time. The hardness of frozen earth is not workable; it cannot be readily penetrated. One cannot plow, one cannot overturn rich soil for the planting of seed which will one day bring a harvest.

But the gardeners have hope. Spring will come.

The rays of the springtime sun, less distant than the winter sun, warm the earth; the length of spring days increases. Soft, nourishing rains return, washing away the frozen, white blanket. Slowly, the hardened crust gives way to tenderness.

The warm rains penetrate and rejuvenate the rich soil, awakening hidden roots and tubers which have laid dormant throughout the winter season. Renewed life breaks through what was once hardened soil. All the earth shouts for joy!

An environment of growth is created, making the earth ready to receive new seed from the gardener's hand. The plow is set, the soil is turned, and good seed is sown.

Seasons come to an end. This much we know. For those of us waiting for the return of spring here in the North Country, we understand that. We also understand that we cannot induce its return, we cannot pinpoint the day of its arrival. We can only look for signs, wait patiently and joyfully (lest we squander the day at hand), and plan for its arrival in absolute certainty that it will come.

And come it will. The soft, warm rains and the springtime sun will come. And life will flourish once more.

Costume Shop Work with Cinderella In Mind

2011-03-19T16:52:00.003-05:00

Boxes, labeled and unlabeled, some with tops missing, holding hundreds of pairs of shoes were yanked from the shelves. Most of the shoes were sorted; some were out of place. Men's loafers, women's ankle boots, oxfords, women's MaryJanes. On and on. Finally, I found containers filled with kitty-heeled shoes and slippers. Pink grosgrain, teal satin, gold leather, silver sparkled, and lavender. These just might prove to be useful!

Blouses with ruffles and bows were hunted. A handful were discovered -- women's blouses that I hope will fit some of the guys. After all, in mid-1700's, men wore ruffles and bows.

Pink, bright green, brown, and silver-gray wigs in tall womanly updo's and manly ponytails. Pearl chokers, burgundy colored beads, rings and things, buttons and bows. Yup. This is the fun stuff that will finish the outfits off.

I hung shirts, sorted tights, located military jackets that will probably be too small anyway. A new vest or two in fabulous silk foulard or paisley were found. I imagined gowns with different skirts, necklines with additional lace, and always new sleeves of elbow length with lace galore.

And I've only just begun. Care to join me next time?

Sharing Home

2011-03-16T19:47:00.002-05:00

As I rolled out pie crusts she watched and asked questions. When I tossed the apple slices with flour and sugar, salt and cinnamon she commented on always wondering how the filling was made.

"What will you do with that?" she asked as I gathered up the leftover fragments of pie dough and set them aside.

"Oh, this will be yummy -- I will fill it with butter and cinnamon, or maybe some jelly and butter. Always butter."

"What can I do to help? I will be glad to do something."

"Hmmm," I replied. "I know! How about the green beans. Wash them and snip the ends. Put them in the Dutch oven pot. I'll steam them a bit then saute them with garlic and almond slices."

She was an eager helper, a happy observer, and pleasant company as I whizzed along, making baked ziti, green beans, and apple pie.

And that is how simple it is to invite someone in to enjoy your home and family! She joined us for dinner and a birthday celebration. As she left she gave me a warm hug and thanked me for letting her be a part of the traditions we routinely enjoy.

"I am so happy to have seen how this works," was her comment.

So many young people haven't experienced the joy of home and family. Jesus' idea of covenant, marriage, and children is really a pretty good one after all. It is a source of joy, refuge, and stability. I am privileged and happy to share what He has given to me.

"Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee." Acts 3.6

The History of Music

2011-03-15T19:32:00.001-05:00

Emo is a style of rock music typically characterized by melodic musicianship and expressive, often confessional lyrics. -- wikipedia.com

That is a description of a recent genre of pop music. Emo has come to be associated with depression, suicide, self-injury. The blues gone bad, real bad.

Actually it's the same ol', same ol', same ol' stuff -- merely repackaged. Hardly can it be considered fresh, certainly not new, definitely not novel. It is mankind plummeting the depths of his despair and getting high on such emotions. So high that when he falls, he plummets. You know the stuff -- passion, unrequited love, depression, suicide, etc. In a nutshell, self-absorption. But it's a rerun. It's last season all over again.

Upon what do I predicate such a statement?

In our home we are studying The History of Classical Music, a curriculum that introduces us to different styles of music and some of the most well known composers. We are currently exploring the Romantic Era.

Consider the following excerpt from The Encyclopedia of Music by Max Wade-Matthews and Wendy Thompson:

One of the most potent examples of literary Romanticism was Goethe's epistolatory novel Die Leiden des jungen Werthers (The Sorrows of Young Werther), published in 1774. It was inspired by Goethe's own unrequited love for a friend's fiancee, and the news of another friend's suicide as a result of disappointed love. Werthers had an enormous influence on European youth, and the theme of frustrated passion became a common one in the literature of the period.

This was the climate which produced the great musical masterpieces of early Romanticism. Among these are Schubert's song-cycles Die schone Mullerin (The Miller's Daughter), in which the brook becomes an equal partner in a drama of rejection and suicide; and Winterreise (Winter Journey), in which both singer and accompanist paint a vivid picture of wintry desolation, mirroring the bleak emptiness in the betrayed protagonist's soul.

The other hallmark of musical Romanticism was its emphasis on the individual -- either the composer, fighting a lonely battle against incomprehension and intolerance, or the performer.

This is art with self as the object, a preoccupation with oneself or one's own affairs. Self-absorption.

Art that is wholly inculcated with self-absorption encourages the practice of self-absorption. Whether found in the current "emo" genre, or the Romantic Era, or in a myriad of other time periods and locales, it is detrimental to individuals, families, society, and culture. It breeds hedonism...or perhaps hedonism breeds self-absorption. We could debate this "chicken or the egg"conundrum, but I will pass for now.

Suffice to say, I continue to love studying history. It never fails to reveal the weaknesses of mankind; it underscores the need we all have for God and reflects the glory of those who live for His purposes.

Even in the history of music.

Where Did the Weekend Go?

2011-03-13T17:44:00.003-05:00

Hmmm...

Friday afternoon rehearsal. Staged the opening of the ball scene. The Prince must choose a bride from one of these ladies. Fun abounds as they push and fall, flaunt and hide, find and chase. This will be enjoyed by all!

Then I dropped kids off at dance lessons and headed home to feed two little grandsons and settle them for bed. Oh, and picked up one daughter from GED test site later in the evening.

All of Saturday morning was spent watching grandsons and son play basketball. From there I scooted and picked up the same daughter from session #2 of GED testing. Next: two and a half hours of tap and musical theater style dance classes. Sweaty and tired but happy, we ran a couple of errands in town before heading home. A few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches later, and the day was gone. Whhooosshht!

Sunday. Start out by losing a hour. That sure doesn't lend to lengthening the weekend! Church for the morning, lunch out at a Chinese buffet with 11 dear people, a prayer time at a newly purchased church building, and home once again.

The evening will melt away quickly, I've no doubt.

Gone. Officially. The weekend is over. Can anyone say "Boogie through the weekend, Dar!"

Job (as in the Bible) Thoughts

2011-03-07T10:38:00.005-05:00

Elihu, the young man amongst them, has listened long and patiently. Now, with utmost respect, he speaks up. But respect does not include dodging truth; he calls a spade a spade.

What man is like Job, who drinks scorn like water?
For he has said, "It profits a man nothing that he should delight in God."
Therefore listen to me, you men of understanding. Far be it from God to do wickedness.
Surely God will never do wickedly, nor will the Almighty pervert justice.

Elihu is reciting the foolishness of this man, and of any man, who would charge God with wickedness.

Who gave Him charge over the earth? Or who appointed Him over the whole world?
If you have understanding, hear this; Listen to the sound of my words:
Should one who hates justice govern? Will you condemn Him who is most just?

Job is challenged. His friends are challenged. The young man in their midst sees the bigness of God, recognizes that He is just and true, full of mercy and grace, not to be accused.

Elihu illuminates truth in the situation. Elihu enumerates His greatness.

On Sunday we were reminded of the immensity of our God -- our pastor acknowledged his inability to truly capture and describe infinite greatness (indeed, how can it be done?) -- and it is staggering. We contemplated our continent, our planet, the Milky Way galaxy, our solar system, the universe that is home to our galaxy, the "known universe" versus the "unknown universe".

The obvious conclusion? Neil Armstrong had it right when he looked at the earth from the moon. We are small. We need to know that we are small. We don't like to be small. We prefer to think that we are big, that the world revolves around us and our feelings, that mankind is in control. But we are not, thank God.

Yet this is also true: we have significance. Why? Because He created and loved us.

God finally interjects His power and infinite wisdom and speaks to Job out of the whirlwind.

Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me:
Would you indeed annul My judgment? Would you condemn Me that you may be justified?

What a question. It is a question that God alone can ask.

I rejoice today that no one can remove God from His place of judgment and power. He is Love itself. And we are the object of that Love.

May Job's lessons benefit all of us today.

Flight

2011-03-06T21:13:00.002-05:00

I'm trusting in Him.
Waiting.
Trusting.

Finding eagle's wings.

Soaring when I stay there.
Crashing when I don't.

Then returning to the shelter of His wings, where I find my wings once more.

Waiting on Him alone.

Heidi's Telling

2011-03-05T20:27:00.004-05:00

I read two pages of Heidi to my young grandsons tonight. Their mama had the page marked where I was to resume. It was the part where Heidi returns to Grandfather. She told him how the grandmother had said that when people abandon God He leaves them to themselves and the consequences of a life lived apart from Him.

Grandfather assumed that once you turned your back on God you could not go back. Heidi assured him that not only did the grandmother say that wasn't true, but she herself recalled a story she used to read about a son who ran from his father's house only to experience that life without him was nothing but empty sorrow, and so returned to his father. His return was celebrated with feasting and great joy. If that son, upon returning to his father, was met with not merely acceptance but welcomed with celebration, then how much more could a son of God return to Him as well. And with great celebration!

It is actually a beautiful telling. I was a bit teary when the crusty old grandfather sneaked up into Heidi's room after she had been tucked into bed. He looked at her innocence and saw "something he liked". After looking long, he knelt before the Lord, acknowledged his sin, and asked to be not only forgiven, but received once again. And two big tears spilled onto his cheeks.

He had come back home. Home to Father's house. And he had been welcomed.

I was so glad to read Heidi to my little grandsons tonight. May they always know that one can return to Father to find open arms of love, waiting to celebrate their return.

Chicken Soup and Sledding

2011-03-02T19:59:00.004-05:00

I couldn't wait to get home. There I was with the opportunity to hang in Manhattan, spend another day even, and I passed. I skipped Manhattan and the extra day. I just wanted to get home.

Why? Some of my kids were sick. I wanted to make chicken soup. So I did. Daughter #7 set the poultry "a stewing" so the stock and meat were ready for me when I arrived home in the afternoon. In no time onions and celery were chopped, a full bowl of carrots were "pennied", and soup pasta was added. A bit of generous seasoning and, voila!

I sent some soup to Daughter #2 and her family because she had been under the weather. Daughter #1, who had a cold as well as her kiddos, headed her crew this way for soup. And Daughter #5, down with the flu for several days, was well enough to join us at the table.

And today I sent some of the soup to a young man down the street who is also showing symptoms of flu.

So, the soup was made. Hooray!

I also was happy this morning to see snow falling. Spring was bursting on the scene in New Jersey with rain and mild temps. But not here. We had giant snowflakes filling the air outside my window. And why, you may wonder, did that make me happy!

I called out to Merrick, "Hey, buddy! Have you been sledding at all this year? I was sad yesterday when I realized that we hadn't taken you sledding!"

"Nope! Not this year," came his quick reply.

"Well, this afternoon. It's a plan!"

So Rick and I donned our wintry garb, filled the vehicles with snow tubes and saucers, gathered grandkids from hither and yon, and went sledding! Up and down the hill, carrying little Aubs with me. She wouldn't wait for a sled; instead she all but catapulted herself down the hill on her tummy! Sun in a blue sky, packed snow crusted with ice, plenty of sleds and happy faces! What a blast!

Who needs Manhattan when you've got a soup kitchen in Madrid and the best Big Hill ever!

Home-Maker

2011-02-28T17:18:00.004-05:00

The man on the other end of the line asked me what I do. After all the years, all the teaching, all the preaching, all the encouragement given by me to others, I answered, "Nothing. I'm a homemaker."

Implied in his question was, "What is your job?" -- as in profession, as in "making money" occupation. So I was not totally incorrect in my answer. But I immediately felt the need to rectify the implication of my sitting around on the couch watching TV and eating bonbons. I was a bit undone.

I contemplated and wondered. Did he hear the further, more subtle implication? I am a home-maker. I make a home. That is what I do.

I am currently spending some time with dear friends in Secaucus, NJ. They open their home for hospitality. She has made a home. It is not just a house with bedrooms and a snackbar. It is a home. They eat together at a dining room table. They spend time visiting with one another in the living room. They convene at day's end to discuss joint adventures or share individual experiences.

I make a home at 1942. I endeavor to create an atmosphere of safety, health, and creativity where nurture and care are expressed. Now granted, there are some seasons when the home front looks better and functions more efficiently than others. But all the same, it has been and continues to be my God-given task.

The words spoken this morning -- "I am a homemaker" -- echo in my mind and now in my heart, reminding me once again of the need to intentionally make homes. This is not a second rate occupation; it cannot be happenstance. It will not automatically occur with the signing of every lease or mortgage. It must be purposed and planned. It requires energy, time, effort, dedication, and commitment.

Home. Ah, yes. I love home. I love making home.

So here I am. Reminded. And I'm turning my heart toward home once again.

Signs of the Times

2011-02-26T08:31:00.003-05:00

My first grandchild was born eight years ago.

My firstborn will be thirty next month.

I'm officially "senior" status in many establishments.

My baby boy is almost twelve.

I've been teaching at CFA for twenty-six (or is it 27) years. (Wonder what kind of retirement that guarantees.)

My parents need my help these days. It used to be the other way around.

My singing is becoming "over the hill" singing. I think most of you know what that means. ;)

My favorite verse today? Because I'm still expectant, still looking ahead, still hope-filled, I will wait on the Lord.

"But those who wait on the Lord Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40.31

I'm learning that there is nothing I want to do more than serve Him. I've given my life to that with absolutely no regrets aside from wishing I had done it more faithfully. I'm still discovering, day by day, that there is nothing in this whole wide world more deserving of my love and passion and dedication than Jesus Christ.

A sign of the times? "It is well with my soul."

February's Grace

2011-02-24T18:32:00.004-05:00

I feel a need to write a tribute to February. It has such a bad name, gets such a bum rap. We are longing to leave winter and coldness and deep white behind. But for all our aching, we won't find spring in this month. Winter is still very present. Therefore, February has little inherent charm apart from a lovely pink and red holiday smack in the middle.

It is true that folks have endured a lot of winter by the time we reach mid-February on the calendar. Our senses long for that smell of spring in the air, a glimpse of green poking through the white, the sound of the robin's song.

The thing about February is this: one morning we wake to spring in the air as the sun beams warmth and snow disappears by the hour. Windows are flung open, rooms aired out, and people imagine wearing shorts and running shoes tomorrow.

But tomorrow morning arrives; the thermometer has dropped a full 45 degrees, the ground is hard, clouds fill the horizon, the snow returns. And hearts fail as hopes are crushed.

Endure such taunting more than just a few times and you learn to hold February's promises loosely. More accurately, you learn that it was not a promise for tomorrow, only a reminder that change is coming; spring is indeed on its way.

I like February. It reminds me that seasons DO change. It challenges me to endure with expectation intact, to hold onto truth in lieu of disappointment in false hopes.

"Dig deep and hold on," I hear myself saying. "Remember that winter will end, and God will usher in new life."

February cannot be avoided. In fact, I think February is needed. At least, it is needed by me. I grow in February. I find Him.

I dig a bit deeper.

Sotheby's Anyone?

2011-02-21T14:34:00.003-05:00

Wishing there was an auction tomorrow. Such fun just to see nice things. And more fun to, every now and then, buy nice things.

So let me qualify.

Wishing there was a nice auction tomorrow. You know, with genuine antiques, beautiful heirlooms, silver and brass candelabras, original oil paintings, Windsor and Chippendale chairs, and blue and white china pieces.

That's all. Because I really enjoy pretty things. And old pretty things especially so!

Spring Will Come Without Fail

2011-02-20T20:25:00.003-05:00

A dear friend recently pointed out a simple truth. He said that we know one thing about seasons -- they all come to an end.

Winter drags on at times. What makes it bearable when the snow revisits in March? Simple: we KNOW that spring will come -- real, true, lasting, warming spring.

If you are experiencing a less than pleasant season in life, take solace. You can be assured of this one thing; change will come. The season will end. A new one will come.

I like that. I've always been glad for change, but never as much as when things aren't my favorite. Right about then change is most welcome. But I leave the changing in His hands. He seems to know the end from the beginning, and that's a whole lot more than anyone else knows. So I'll let Him order my days, change my seasons, and plan my destiny.

And in the meantime, I look forward to spring -- in every way.

Older and Simpler Than Ever

2011-02-13T22:57:00.002-05:00

I am finding in my experience, although singular it may be, that the longer I live, the more difficulties I encounter. Actually, this experience has been confirmed by many others as well. And while I'm at it, the Bible promises this very thing as well. We will face trials, troubles, and sorrows.

I am also finding in my experience as a Christian that the longer I live and the more difficulties I encounter, the more His love is discovered; more of His grace is drawn upon and His faithfulness has now become my anchor.

Once upon a time, in younger years, I had more energy for overcoming obstacles, more strength to persevere through storms, more pliability to withstand the winds. But I have spent it all; I'm used up, expired, done. I am left with nothing. Which, it seems, is the perfect way to discover more of Him.

So, I will begin calling this season -- this long, difficult season -- discovery season. He continues to be found. And from what I understand, I've only just begun to know Him.

My God is amazing. Forever amazing.

Facing Giants

2011-02-01T22:41:00.002-05:00

I've heard about this movie, had access to it for a couple years, but never got around to watching it. Tonight, Merrick asked me to view it with him. Rick watched it with him last night.

Believe it or not, we both got teary. Maybe it's because we are emotionally tender right now, but I was so happy to see God glorified in a film, so glad to be reminded that He shows His faithfulness in so many ways all the time. I remembered the many answered prayers and kindnesses shown to me in my life.

And I wept. I remembered, too, the hardships we endure. But remembered, too, that seasons come and seasons go.

And I smiled knowing that He alone is worthy of my life, my love, and my trust.

Jesus

2011-01-26T23:48:00.002-05:00

Mercy and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed.
Psalm 85.10

How could this be? Who could have arranged such a phenomenon? Where? When?

Divinity.
God Almighty.
A cross on Calvary.
Long ago, but everyday.

Why?
Love.

What more can He do than He's already done?
There is no greater love than this.
None in all the world.

Amen.

His Workmanship

2011-01-24T21:40:00.004-05:00

A dear friend recently said this about me:

If you were to tell me that someone could be a strong, vibrant, talented, opinionated, beautiful woman and a humble, submissive, respectful, honoring wife before I met Darlene, I wouldn't have believed you. I wouldn't have, I promise you. I thought you had to be one or the other. Darlene teaches me that a woman is most fully alive when she is being exactly who God created her to be, without exception.
Lore F.

So I guess that's one perspective, one impression. And I must admit, I like it. But who am I, really?

I have been found in Christ, soaring free, moving with grace, daily changed and currently being made into who I am momentarily by His Spirit -- ever since giving my life to Him.

Before? A creature shaped by sin, circumstance, daily in bondage to and being formed by the enemy of every human soul. Burdened, misshapen, crippled. Functioning? Quite. Successful? Yes, according to many. And I thought I was choosing and creating who they all saw me to be. The charade was working. It was fooling even me.

But then He began. He challenged me to the core of my existence, meddled with who I thought I was. Asked hard questions. Asked hard things. And, in time, I said yes to the questions, the requests.

I was no longer. I ceased to exist. At least it felt that way. He was removing the falsehoods, the pretense, the pride, the rebellion. And there was nothing left, so I thought.

Then a gentler, kinder me came into view - but strong still, and more confident than before, free-spirited and soaring. Did He take away the stuff He had made? No. Was it released to be what He had designed. Yes.

Remodeled. That's what I say. By a master.

A work still in progress, by the way. The polishing continues, the gentle shaping. Nope, He's not done yet. I'm in His hand forever.

Warm Food and Sunshine

2011-01-22T10:07:00.002-05:00

The 6:30 alarm brings awareness of a new day dawning.

Sub zero temps. Company's in the house. And all the usual crew as well.

My mind wraps around these facts and computes an answer: pancakes and sausage with fresh brewed coffee.

Slippers and fleece robe are donned. I tread the steps softly and quickly to find company already up. Beans are ground, batter stirred, and griddle warmed. By now golden sun has filled the room with a bright glow. The fragrance of brewed coffee and griddled pancakes add warmth. The table is soon surrounded with happy folk and lively talk about presidents past and Jeopardy computer matches yet to come.

Sun, warmth, fragrance, and happy talk. This kind of company makes for a pleasant morning. For sure.

God Is... God

2011-01-17T18:47:00.003-05:00

You know, He is a big God. He can handle it. He can deal with it.

Just reminding you and me, that's all. It's something to remember when you feel overwhelmed.

You cannot do it, no matter how hard you try. You weep, you pray, you try your level best. But He moves hearts, delivers from the enemy, and restores souls. Only His Spirit can prevail.

So pray, do what you can, love, and do what you can some more. But in the end, it's His to complete. He must. We can't.

We can't.

Gigi Is Happy Again

2011-01-14T20:39:00.003-05:00

Everyone seems to be talking about house projects. Well, I have my own about which to boast. A redo has recently taken place in my kitchen: Gigi's cage has a fresh look. A new perch shaped like a tree branch reaches across the highest point of her cage. Colored chunks of wood woven on coarse knotted rope hang in the far corner. Rectangular treats (clusters of various and sundry seeds cemented with honey) dangle from the top cross wire.

Gigi has been quiet for the past several weeks. I thought perhaps she was showing signs of old age, maybe even edging toward death.

But as of yesterday's renovation, something has changed. This morning she chirped happily during breakfast devotions. Later, while the girls painted and listened to Haydn's The Seasons, she broke out into wild sound as the flute played and the soprano sang. Then came The Surprise Symphony. The gentle theme was presented, but soon came the sudden blast of sound designed to surprise those members of the audience who may have been entertaining thoughts of rest! Gigi soundly reprimanded such audacity with a raucous scolding. "Oh, if only Haydn were here right now!" I thought to myself with a smile.

Who would've known? A change of pace in mid-winter helped even our little yellow, fine feathered friend!

My Heart Is His

2011-01-13T23:02:00.004-05:00

Bruised
Heavy
Aching

Swollen and tender
Filled to exploding

His Hand holds such fragility with care.

He breaths
reminds
speaks

My heart feels
remembers
hears

Peace
Hurting, but at peace

Multi-tasking -- Not For Me

2011-01-12T15:19:00.005-05:00

Is that a fairly current, newly coined term? I don't know for sure, but I do know that the concept escapes me. Well, at least the implementation of the concept. I suppose at times it seems I am capable of all that it seems to imply as I put the gear in overdrive and focus on getting dinner served, the table set, and a conversation carried out -- but mostly not.

Yeah, not so much.

Female I may be, but none the less, I get frazzled when there is too much going on.

My brain is fried when trying to sort out travel arrangements for a household of young adults with two vehicles and seven schedules.
When sauteing the onions in a luscious cup of butter, it all burns on my watch if I am trying to change the laundry over at the same time.
If daughter number six needs my attention and son number two knocks on the door with a question all while hubby calls for a clean T-shirt, I am undone.

Guess I'm old, or out of that league, or not in on this supposedly feminine aptitude.

Whatever the reason, I'm looking for ways to simplify life, to slow down the pace, to do one thing at a time. And in a houseful of young adults and teens, with an eleven year old thrown in, that is not always easy to do.

Yeah, not so much.

Life In the Light

2011-01-08T10:47:00.004-05:00

Darkness hides yucky things. Oh, the things that go bump in the dark are more real than we want to think.

Darkness leaves us stumbling through life until the years are wasted and all we've done is wander. When it's all but dribbled away we can still step into the light and start walking a clear path. How much better that is than stubbing toes, running into walls, or ending up in the wrong room.

Darkness has no sparkle. The fool's gold's glimmer has subsided and is no more. There is no light to bring back it's glimmer. We learn too late that we bought the lie. Darkness is like a black hole, drawing us near until we fall into an utter lack of light. Immense absence of light. A horrible existence void of sight.

A dear friend just reminded me of Plato's cave -- upon emergence from the cave the light is frightening, blinding at first, and excruciatingly painful, but one must get over the initial fear and pain to discover the sun as the source of light that enables one to see.

Darkness robs us of sight, of clarity. It allows deception, allows formlessness to become reality in our minds.

It is weird. It is unpleasant, but those accustomed to it learn to cower from light. Oh, may I never hide from true Light.

Common sense would say: Don't hide in dark corners or you will soon adjust to the diminished ability to see. Your eyes will no longer accept the entrance of light without pain and effort; you will be more comfortable with not seeing. That is a sorry way to live life. Devastatingly sad. The end is more to be pitied than the sorrows and affliction that accompany many who walk in the light.

"By faith Moses, when he became of age, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the passing pleasures of sin, esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt; for he looked to the reward.
By faith he forsook Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king; for he endured as seeing Him who is invisible." Hebrews 11.24-26

Now that's the kind of sight I want to have -- so keen and sensitive that the Son shining on that which is invisible becomes sight for me.

"Lord, let me walk in the light. Let me be honest before You, refusing the deceptions of darkness, declining to agree with pretense and lie. Oh, let my eyes see the path of righteousness and the beauty of truth that surrounds You. Oh, King of Light, defeat every dark spirit around me. Bring Your light that reveals the dark deceptions of the prince of darkness. Amen and amen."

He Is the Help I Need

2011-01-05T15:30:00.002-05:00

Can't press on? In your weakness He's strong.
Can't work up hunger? He whets our appetites.
Can't do anything but turn an eye to Him? He'll be looking your way. His eye is on you.
Can't find joy? He'll bring it with the morning.
Can't change your attitude? From glory to glory He's changing you.
Can't pray? The Son intercedes for us.
Can't cross over? He's prepared the Egyptian to help find the way. (See I Samuel 30)

He is our all in all. All we need in all situations. Always.

He carries me from start to finish. What a wonder. What a God.

The Right Corner of the Ring

2011-01-03T23:35:00.004-05:00

A season of warfare. I understand that there are seasons in life. Seasons come and go. When in the midst of a season, we cannot know for sure exactly how much longer that season will be. There are signs, of course, if one can read them. But we don't have the details of change: when, how, and what.
But one thing is certain - the season will come to an end and there will be transition to a new season in time.

For now, I'm in a season of warfare. I am realizing that I must learn to hear His voice and trust in His keeping power no matter what the season. I don't need to, indeed I shouldn't, wait for a particular season to end in order to experience joy and peace in His love. It is there for me now.
So. It's warfare. Sword and shield time in a most aggressive way.

God reminded me tonight that although the enemy would flaunt power, shout big ugly lies, and carry on as though he were important he is actually miniscule by comparison to my great big God. His power was, after all, created by my Redeemer, the Creator of the universe. He is a liar, a wimp, a loser. He is all air. A big noise but so small next to my Dad. My Dad can take him anytime He wants. He just lets him vaunt himself every now and then for our sake. It causes our faith to grow, lets us flex our spiritual muscles, and always brings Him glory in the end. He is a Loser (with a Capital L.) This Loser thinks he has so much on us, but every bad thing he tries to do to us is turned around by God for our good.

So although the season has not yet concluded, I was reminded of how the conclusion will play out. So I'll keep at it until that comes. Good to be in the winner's corner in times like these.

Is This Fall?

2010-12-20T22:13:00.002-05:00

Learning to focus, to juggle, to wrap my mind around this new season of life.

A son in China for Christmas, a daughter in Honduras for New Year's.

The needs, the celebrations, the conversations, the tears, the laughs, the learning, the discussions.

What gets left undone, what should get my attention and energy?

This I know. He grants grace, He teaches me to walk in His ways, and He will lead me through change, adjustment, and growth. Yes, growth. Learning how to adapt, how to serve Him in this time.

I need never fear the future. He will always be there in it.

Just Because I Love Them

2010-11-27T06:50:00.004-05:00

I look at my children, one by one. I love them so deeply it hurts. Tears, heart pangs, and waves of emotion.

Why?

If I thought they never experienced disappointment, fear, hurt, or pain, I might possibly be free from this.
But no.
If shared days of deep joy would never end, I think I would not have agony.
But no.
When we reach Heaven's bliss and worship forever, I think the ache will be gone.
Yes, finally.

Eternity will be ours. Sin will be no more. Pure delight and peace and joy forever more. All of this and so much more He has won for us.

This my heart wants for them.
Why?

Because they are mine and I love them.

Thanksgiving Day

2010-11-24T22:19:00.001-05:00

A day to remember His provision.

What a perfect thing to celebrate!

Simply Trusting

2010-11-21T23:41:00.002-05:00

I get frustrated from time to time at my limited ability to comprehend theology and all its implications. And then I remember, "Keep it simple, stupid."

And I'm happy once again. Why?

Because simply put, it's like this:

God is great. Beyond comprehension, in fact.
God is love. Boundless, to put it plainly.
God's mercy is ever available. New every morning, should you need any.
God is bigger than any circumstance. He makes everything work out in my favor, to be precise.
God will always be there. In truth, He will never leave me. Never.
My God is faithful to me. He's made a deal that will last forever. It's called a covenant.

Shall I continue? The list is, in all actuality, infinite. It may take all eternity to recite His glories.

And that, my friend, simply put, is something you won't want to miss.

There Is No Rock Like Our God

2010-11-15T19:45:00.003-05:00

Hear my cry, oh God,
Attend unto my prayer.
From the ends of the earth
Will I cry out to You.

And when my heart is overwhelmed,
Lead me to the rock,
That is higher than I, higher than I.

Can We Enjoy Art Without Excess?

2010-11-13T19:13:00.004-05:00

I love theater, in case you were unaware. A great Broadway tune, a corny schtick, tap dance, jazz moves -- I love it all. The costumes, the lights, a sappy story. And choreography galore. There cannot be such a thing as too much dance!

I recently attended a local production that had all of this and more, delightfully executed. A real treat. Except for one thing: unnecessary vulgarity.

Bumping and grinding, cross-dressing and drinking, jokes with prostitutes. Innuendo upon innuendo. Too much.

Where have we stooped that we cannot envision comedy that isn't low and coarse? Why do we need to spice everything up in this way?

It was a disappointment. I love song and dance. I love a good story, a humorous scene. But please leave out all the extra goodies. Less is more.

Happy Days Around the Table

2010-11-11T13:18:00.005-05:00

For the past few weeks we have settled into a nice routine; Mom regrouped and redirected the school plan, and somewhat successfully so. I really like what we've stumbled upon.

I was not happy that most all of the school day was spent by my older girls up in their bedroom. I viewed this as not acceptable because 1) there was no interaction between them and me, 2) there was little academic discourse amongst themselves, and 3) there was no real accountability established. Bad, bad, and bad.

So we are back to doing a unit study approach of history, literature, geography, and the arts. I purchased two courses from my all time favorite curriculum company, Beautiful Feet, and I am very pleased. Although each guide is intended for a full year of study, we are combining the two: The History of the Horse, and The History of Classical Music.

For two hours each day we all sit around the kitchen table tracing maps, listening to wonderful music, reading great literature, and sketching various drawings. We read about King Louis XV, then study Allah and Mohammad. Next we may read about Bach or listen to a Vivaldi Concerto. We've watched whirling dervishes on youtube as well as the famous White stallions of Lipizza and sketched violins and Arabian horses. Each day includes Mom reading aloud a chapter or two from a classic piece of literature. Currently on the agenda is Black Beauty by Anna Sewell.

And it is so much fun, just to be together, learning the same thing, talking about a new word or concept and drawing a map that we all are studying. It is a one room school house under the red roof. Right here in Madrid.

Today, amongst other things, we copied the words to Martin Luther's well known hymn, A Mighty Fortress. Luther influenced Johann Sebastian Bach enormously, and there is no better hymn written, in my estimation.

All to say, this mama is exquisitely happy. Just this morning I was wondering if there might be some way for me to keep Liana and Jess home just one more year. I'm sure I would love to find two more Beautiful Feet Guides for us to study next year as well.

What do you say, girls? Could you please stay for a longer time in my little classroom around the kitchen table? Please?

Sliding

2010-10-28T15:23:00.003-05:00

Wow. This is too much.

KETK-NBC news anchors ask: “Will the acceptance of homosexuality in this society be the downfall of America?”

"So?" you ask. "What's the problem? They're taking a survey, getting the audience input. Happens all the time in this land of free speech. So?"

I discovered this info on a site demanding that NBC drop this local Texas TV affiliate because this is intolerable, apparently. The site asserted the following:

Yes, that was a question actually posed to viewers by a Texas-based NBC affiliate TV station, both on the air and online. But it didn’t end there.

Oh, no, it didn't end there. The station then proceeded to have the gall to actually allow callers to answer this question! How dare they? Didn't they know that some people might actually believe that cultural embracing of homosexuality as a legitimate and healthy lifestyle will be the downfall of America? What about that? Some people may voice this opinion and that is NOT ACCEPTABLE!!

It's clearly acceptable to voice the opposite opinion. But agreement in this case is anathema! Agreement is automatically touted as violent hate speech. There is no acknowledgment of the possibility to love and still oppose. We have forgotten that the best parents say "no" out of deep love and faithfulness to their children. We equate love with allowance. Love is NOT the same as allowance. NOT.

I think it is going to require much boldness in the very near future to speak definitively regarding a Biblical position on this issue: much boldness, much faith and confidence, and a clear mind.

I'm thinking we need to carefully teach our children. What about you?

Call Me a Fanatic

2010-10-20T15:10:00.002-05:00

In the midst of preparing a musical for 110+ students (as you can see, I've not even taken a precise head count) I am distracted.

This morning I, along with some trusty fellow companions, plowed into a costume shop which is in disarray. My daughter met me there (she has been conscripted -- pretty willingly, I must say -- to do costumes for this extravaganza.) We talked about how to get 110 kids to wear castle garb without spending an arm and a leg and without devoting every waking moment to sewing machines and stitches. Can I say, it looks daunting, but I LOVE costumes!

I am meeting another daughter who is overseeing the instruction of song to 50 of the above mentioned students. We will talk arrangements and staging.

Then I will get together with two other daughters to choreograph large group numbers.

I also met today with the set designer, who has her hands full if she hopes to do all that she and the art students hope to accomplish. She has 5 Fridays (come to think of it, that's what I have, too.) She has plans for transforming our gymnatorium into a Medieval castle of grand and glorious proportions. I wholeheartedly approved her every dream. I hope they come true!

So where is the distraction? As I sat in the office for a 15 minute rest, I discovered that a script I'm considering for next spring's production had arrived for perusal. Soon I was lost in the music and characters laid out in black and white on those pages. Uh, oh. They had already come to life! Instead of talking about Good King Wenceslas, I found myself babbling to the secretary about Cinderella's cat and the Stepmother's song! "What are you talking about?" she asked. Enthusiastically I announced that this show would be so much fun!!! In disbelief she rolled her eyes and chuckled.

Yup, not even near the finish line yet and I'm on to the next race. There's something wrong here. Seriously wrong.

Too Much Food

2010-10-17T18:19:00.003-05:00

It seems to have happened, that malady of old age showing signs of asserting ownership over my physical body.

First were the few stray gray hairs at the temple. Wrinkles gave indication of another symptom. Elasticity was dissipating. Next I was aware of subtle and not so subtle aches and pains. "I never had these before. Wonder what I did?" I recall this musing upon more than one occasion. I am slow to catch on at times.

Finally the revelation. I put it all together one morning, realizing that it added up to an obvious conclusion: I am getting older. It has happened to me -- even me.

Continued revelation has followed. I no longer need any where near as much food intake as I once did. If I seemed slow at other conclusions, I was really slow at this one. The hardest part of this dilemma is our culture; we don't readily make allowances for small meals. People love to eat, and they also love to have you eat lots with them. It is hard not to feel rude. But I really cannot eat as much if I hope to stay energetic. I get plain downright lethargic when I overeat. And, of course, chubby.

So, if you invite me over for coffee or lunch, remember that my small portion is no reflection of your cooking. It is a reflection of my reality: old.

Well, older, anyway.

Spain

2010-10-14T14:48:00.003-05:00

God did something really special in Spain. I could sense it.

And God did something really special in my heart regarding Spain. I could feel it.

God stirs, imparts, sends vision, gives words. God reveals glimpses of His heart and we are moved.

It was a wonderful two weeks.

Travel Journal

2010-10-05T15:28:00.002-05:00

We are staying at the Wycliffe House in Algeciras, Spain. We currently are in the basement bedrooms, sharing the kitchen and common living area with Steve and Lorraine Johnson from Texas, and Trevor from Arizona. They are in the upstairs bedrooms.

I have done a bit of grocery shopping in a local store, fixed our breakfasts and a few suppers here. This morning I set about to do 4 loads of laundry, much of which was hung out to dry. But since I prefer "dryer" dried clothes for the most part, I did succumb to purchasing some time for jeans and some cotton shirts. They are just softer as a result.

On to Baelo Claudio, the most comprehensive Roman ruins on the Iberian peninsula. One can stroll the main street of this fishing town which was settled in the 2nd century AD and abandoned following an earth quake in the 6th century. The theater and temples, forum and fish salting factories are in good form; one can readily imagine the culture and rhythms of this small community. It is supposed that it was home to 2000 persons. Fascinating. Beautiful. Isolated, except for the sea and those fabulous Roman roads. Remains of the aqueduct and Roman baths are still in place. Wonders. Food for thought and inspiration for imagination.

We left the ancient world behind, momentarily. Our next spot was Tarifa, southern most tip of Europe. Here one looks across the Mediterranean to the northern shore of the continent of Africa. More amazement. Merrick was enthralled. We strolled through the medieval walls, of which one gate is yet standing. On the sea side is the Guzman castle built in 960 AD. The ancient streets are narrow and winding. We were lost, but it is small enough that you need not worry. Just stick to following the wall, and you are bound to find your vehicle -- we discovered that is true!

Tomorrow we are off to Gibraltar by day and Estepona by night. We will sight see and then minister at an evening mid-week service with Dick and Ruth Flores. Exciting days, for sure!

Him

2010-10-04T16:59:00.002-05:00

reverence -

a feeling or attitude of deep respect tinged with awe; veneration.

We are to have reverence for God: His commands, His words, His heart, His thoughts. All of who He is. Revered. Respected. Venerated.

We are to love God: His commands, His words, His heart, His thoughts. All of who He is. Loved. Honored. Adored.

Everything. All that He is.
With everything. All that we are.

Not a thing kept or held back for ourselves; not a single thought or word of His rejected.

Nothing for us; all of Him adored.

There is no half-heartedness in this adventure -- not if you have met Him and truly understood Him. When we meet Him and understand we become women like the Luke 7 woman.

Then he [Jesus] turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven--for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

Until we see our sin and experience His forgiveness, we will not love Him fully. And we must love Him fully. There is no other way to know victory, peace, and -- dare I say it? -- greatness in God.

Love Him. Ache to please Him, to bless Him, to bring Him joy. Adore Him. Weep with tears of love and wipe His feet.

Remember your sin. You, oh woman, have much sin. You, oh woman, are nothing but what He Himself created. You, oh woman, have nothing to boast in apart from Him, and no answer for your weakness apart from Him. Everything you have to offer is His, and everything you need is in Him.

And He gives it all freely. We now should, can, and must choose to return that love. That, oh woman, is joy -- pure joy!

Oh, please -- love Him today. He is so, so wonderful.

Green Shoes

2010-09-08T20:53:00.004-05:00

The quaint shoes in the window sported deep lime-green leather tooled with a flowered pattern, wrapping the curled toes. The elongated tongues and squatty high heels were reminiscent of Venetian shoes of the late 1700's.

"These are like the shoes in The Shoemaker and the Elves!" I found myself explaining to no one in particular (although poor Julia was a captive audience.)

"Magical," I then noted to myself as I entered through the doorway with even more expectancy than usual. (I typically browse designer row shops with anticipation of pleasure.)

More shoes of purple, aqua, and raspberry lined a table in the center of the tiny shop. But my gaze did not linger long. Quickly scanning the perimeter of the room, my eyes feasted on a kaleidoscope of colored fabrics: taffetas, silks, and embroidered linens in shimmering, glimmering pastels. Translucent gauze sparkled with iridescent highlights.

"Ohhhh," I sighed.

Now my fingers ran over the garments, luxuriating in the drape of the rich silk, caressing the smoothness of beautiful taffeta, touching each delicate embroidery embellishing the hemline of flowered linen skirts.

Ruffles, fringes, textures. Tailored cuts, pleated skirts. And all that shimmer and shine.

The pretty young woman spoke quietly in the back with an obviously pleased customer. Her Dutch accent was soft and musical, cultured and charming. She emoted pleasant confidence. I suspect that she owned these designs; she may have created the very beauty in which I presently delighted.

koko Venice. On Abbot Kinney Blvd. Now I've Googled it. I'm sure it was her. Marianne Kooimans. I salute your talents. (The photos online don't capture what I discovered. Really.)

Perhaps one day I will return with enough cash in hand to own one of those translucent, iridescent silk taffeta tunics. Will it be peach, ivory, or gold?

I can only imagine.

Some new "I likes":

2010-08-28T06:52:00.002-05:00

~ Whoonu is a great way to have fun around a table! Recommended for sure.

~ Stencil sheets in pink grapefruit are refreshingly bright and happy. Color can be a pick-me-up!

~ A new recipe for Creamy Lemon Squares about to be tried on a crowd. Will give a review if I remember. ;)

~ Friends who will come and cook with me in my kitchen for the day. Always a welcome treat!

~ Having a daughter down the road who dropped everything to help me shop for said cooking spree. Fun!

~ Our history plan for school this year will be the study of our family's history followed by the history of our home. We're going to have a great time!

~ His mercies, which are new every morning. Never old, never tired, never irrelevant. New. Always the best of all!

Fresh Winds Blowing

2010-08-23T18:49:00.002-05:00

God is good to visit with new beginnings. Sometimes I wonder if they'll really come, but they do. If we wait, anticipate, long for, and yield to the Spirit, He comes, bringing winds of refreshing.

Fall has become a routine-setting season. For the past few years I've doggedly played along, making schedules, reorganizing cupboards, setting a new pace. But the sense of freshness and excitement hasn't permeated the discipline. Now don't get me wrong, folks, discipline has its place -- but me? I like excitement more.

I'm excited this fall. I've reclaimed some old goals, gotten back on my game with a vision for administration around here, and I love the homeschool history syllabus for the year. Not to mention I'll be directing a full length Christmas musical for 100 students or so. Some might think that sounds horrific, but it's energizing me!

At any rate, the wind is here. And I'm putting out my sails and going for it!

Four Pillars Revisited -- Again

2010-08-20T08:10:00.004-05:00

Topsy-turvy. Pushed and pulled. Strung-out, tired-out, blown-out.

Sounds like there's a need to re-prioritize to me. So, that's what I'm doing. That's what we're doing. I'm blessed beyond imagination to have a husband who hears my cry, sees what I'm suggesting, and works with me to see it come to pass.

1. Love for the Lord:
Individual quiet times happening in all our lives.
Family devotions daily.
Youth group once a week.
Routine attendance and service in a local church.
Healthy hobbies and use of free time to encourage solid Biblical worldview.
Homeschool.

2. Love for family.
Fresh dedication to oversight of sibling relationships.
Renewed commitment to one-on-one times with individual children.
Weekly extended-family meals.
At least three suppers together, Mon-Thur. breakfasts and lunches. Sunday for hospitality.
Homeschool.

3. Love of work.
New chore chart.
New daily schedule.
Concerted effort to get some big projects finished.
Homeschool.

4. Love of learning.
Choose curriculum. Plan unit study.
Include field trips and projects.
Plan extra-curricular activities (book studies, dance, violin, piano, sports, art, etc.)
Choose books for reading during routine lunchtimes.
Be excited about learning and growing -- for myself and each child.
Homeschool.

Can you tell that I think homeschool is an excellent way to incorporate these things into our daily lives? It's the best opportunity going!

Am I excited about a new school year? You betcha!!

Sabbath for Sinclairs, Too

2010-08-06T12:00:00.004-05:00

We need -- need -- regular times with no work, no demands, nothing to do. Regular times. How do I know? God said so.

This is not a forte in my world. We tend to be workaholics over at the Sinclair household. Sometimes I look around my neighborhood, listen to friends' stories, observe acquaintances' use of their days off; I stand back and marvel.

"They are here shopping at Wal-Mart, strolling the aisles and not rushing through. Together, hanging out, doing nothing in particular. Huh. And look at this -- they just dropped in at their friend's house randomly. That means they were just out driving around a bit with no destination or deadline. Huh. And check this out: they were hangin' out with each other, decided to go to a movie and have ice cream. Huh."

We have often recognized that quality time with children cannot always be planned. Spontaneity is often a part of special moments and happenings in a child's life. In order to cash in on such significant times one must invest quantity of time. It cannot and will not be confined to that lunch outing you plan once a week. Their moment of need or transparency or hurt feelings may not happen right then. You very likely will miss it.

Stuff like that is not limited to children only. We all experience things at random times. It behooves us to invest quantity time in precious relationships if we hope to share quality moments.

Also, our souls need routine breaks from the constant planning, pushing, and producing that we maintain throughout the week. It is simple. We are not running on Eveready batteries. Without recharging, the bunny will run out at some point. It will just plain run out.

So prepare, Sinclair household. This fall we will study anew God's commandment to honor the Sabbath. It is time once again.

What Do You See?

2010-08-04T08:18:00.003-05:00

I lay in bed spouting off about Babes In Toyland, a Christmas musical I'm considering for a CFA production, and how we would need to tweak the Friday Program schedule to fit it in.
"You're sure ambitious," hubby replied.
"Hmm. I don't think so," I responded, looking around a bedroom with half-painted walls, a project that has been in process for a month now.

Guess it's all a matter of perspective.

Funny thing how so many things are like that.

2010-08-03T16:26:00.003-05:00

Hooray for hot muggy days! After spending most of June and all of July inside a theater without windows, when Annie finished I hoped that there would be some summer left. This can go on for several weeks, thank you very much!

Hot and sweaty as I weeded the garden, humid and balmy on the side porch as I click my nails on these keys, enough days like this and I may feel that I didn't miss out on too much. Especially if I get to do some cookouts and lawn tea parties. Hoping!

Inboxes

2010-08-02T10:03:00.004-05:00

My g-mail inbox is symptomatic of a person whose children are adults with busy lives. An almost vain attempt to keep tabs on everyone's happenings, I am never sure of who has read what or responded most currently. The "family" mail threads can become so long that they get tangled and snarled like the overly long thread on my needle when I'm hoping to avoid re-threading during a hemming job.

Recently my son has been asking for fashion input and help. Shopping has never interested him, and online shopping can actually be even more tedious for many. No touching, trying, or sampling can leave you feeling a bit insecure or dubious. So, links are passed along by those who enjoy shopping, and opinions are plentiful about what is or isn't liked.

Fashion links, planning rides for vacations, arranging birthday parties and other celebrations, forwards of photos for home decor, questions about who is free to babysit, when is someone going to Potsdam, G&G are here now - come on down to visit, Mom - do you remember what time that meeting is, etc. etc.

It is a veritable online frenzy! Phew -- I'm not sure if this has simplified or complicated life. How is your in-box these days?

Turning

2010-07-30T14:39:00.002-05:00

Isn't it odd that these days slip by, whether well celebrated or neglected? It matters not. They slip by either way.

And isn't it odd that I am now my mother's age? How is that possible? Obviously, it is not quite so, and yet it seems so.

Odder yet, my body ages but I don't? Another non-reality, but true none-the-less.

Isn't it odd that this world is not the everlasting reality? That life is frail and passing, as the flower of the field; it shall fade and pass away?

Isn't it odder still that we invest so much here and neglect Him and our eternal home?

Turn your eyes upon Jesus.
Look full in His wonderful face.
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

A Testimony

2010-07-26T07:54:00.002-05:00

Honey told me I was doing a good job. He was genuine. That makes all the difference. My confidence just skyrocketed.

Words have the power to encourage. It's so very true.

Windblown

2010-07-24T04:50:00.003-05:00

The early morning is the only guaranteed (well, relatively) quiet time for reflection and collection of thoughts.

Collecting thoughts. That, my friends, is the name of the game for me. I gather them and organize them, stacking them like a neat pile of papers, and then, as if a strong wind has come along, they are strewn everywhere around me. I run headlong, chasing after them. Contemplations scatter, float, drift away in all directions.

Ah. The morning hour faithfully arrives. I recollect, I reconsider, and I stack them once again.

Could this be a windless day? Please?

Snippets

2010-07-16T07:38:00.002-05:00

:: My rehearsal was fun last night for lots of reasons. But I'm really excited about this: I got "choreographed" into a servant's scene! Now that's what I've been hoping for. It's only for a quick minute or two, but -- I'm easily pleased!

:: I LOVE to hear from my traveling girls. Talked with Julia via good ol' fashioned phone, and Liana wrote on her blog and facebook. Wonderful!

:: Helping work on costumes gets me excited and then can leave me so, so disappointed. Then excited again -- then... Well, you get the picture.

:: Spending this time with little buddy is the best. He's doing great in the show, the director loves working with him, and that's great for my little buddy. He's finding opportunities and venues where he really shines!

:: Busily helping Carina plan decor for her new salon. Does mom enjoy this? You betcha!!

:: Camilla and Jess are keeping things on the homefront moving along. They babysit the grandkiddos and toss in some laundry. But mostly they read Christy Miller books. Hope that's not supposed to be a secret!

:: My mom and dad are coming up on the 28th to see the show. They will stay with Ryan and Danica for a week, if it goes well. I'm praying for some good times together.

:: Louissa chips away at her job, keeping the church functioning and events happening. What a girl! Don't see her enough, even though she lives right here under this same roof!!

:: Two daughters are traveling with their little families to visit in-laws. Lord, keep them safe and use them to bring a blessing!

A List

2010-07-14T22:41:00.002-05:00

Summertime miscellaneous which will add up to memories (so far):

The Black Box.
Salon decor.
Vintage patterns.
New Rhododendron.
Buble singalongs in high soprano.
Honduras and LA.
Blonde bob.

Evil Days

2010-07-12T09:19:00.003-05:00

Doing the important. Keeping priorities. Minding p's and q's. Balance.

Distractions. Laziness. Forgetfulness. Lack of focus.

Pain. Brokenness. Consequence. An enemy.

A single-eye. A devoted heart. Seeking first the kingdom.

Life, full of joys and sorrows, wants and desires, hopes and shattered dreams, can push and pull. But there is a path, a way, that leads to eternity, that leads to purpose and joy, that brings peace and strength. Relationships can be healthy or broken. People make choices; we make choices.

"Lord, be the strength of my heart. Be my source of grace to do what I need to do. I want to build, not tear down. I want to choose the way of life, not death. I want to redeem the time for the days are evil. The days are surely evil. And I want to serve an eternal God of Love. I want to live for Jesus only. Amen."

A New World

2010-06-28T08:56:00.003-05:00

"Nice to see you again!" we say upon encountering an old classmate on Facebook.

"Oh, I met him last year -- but when I finally really saw him in person he did not look like I expected."

"Yeah, I know her. We're friends on Facebook because she is my sister's friend, too!" Has this person ever really talked with said acquaintance? Possibly not... unless chatting online constitutes "talking".

We of the older set need to adjust, learn new shades of meanings for time-tested vocabulary, and accept that "virtually real" calendar or list on the screen as equal to a paper one hanging on the wall. It needs to be as readily trusted somehow. Does anyone else feel that longing, that dependence, that need for a piece of paper with real ink on it before they can sense that a permanent commitment has been fixed, that it won't disappear somehow into oblivion? Well, somehow I must get over it. I suppose in time I will.

But this relationship stuff leaves me wondering. Huh. Will we lose much before we recognize the loss, learn hard lessons, and struggle to regain good social skills? What will replace personal encounters? Can anything replace them?

Lots to discover and maneuver and explore. Here's to the pioneers! May they go forth with wisdom and care.

2010-06-23T05:25:00.002-05:00

Always He is there to send the fresh rain or the sun in its season. When my soul is dry and parched, in due time, His Spirit quenches thirst. When gray skies have stolen joy, His Word brings light into my world.

But always in His time, at the right time.

Lord, I lift my eyes up. I wait on You alone. Your glorious faithfulness is forever true. I wait, I wait on You.

Rejoice, O my soul. I will again rejoice in the God of my salvation! I desire no other thing; I want no other God. He is my heart's desire forevermore. Amen.

Solstice? Really?

2010-06-22T06:53:00.003-05:00

Summer officially has arrived. Why does it feel like it's been here already for months?

Is it the unseasonably hot weather we experienced all through May?
Perhaps the flowers that are about two weeks ahead of schedule in their blooming this year?
Or is it because my children, last month, commenced what are typically summer adventures?

I cannot say. But it has become standard for me to feel about one season behind. This summer I feel like the season's official start is late.

I continue to submit: time is a strange thing -- elastic, as my husband is wont to say. Stretching and expanding, then snapping short again.

And I continue to submit this also: someday we will be in heaven and that sounds wonderful to me.

~~~~~~~~~

7 Things I'm Grateful For Today

* Gigi and her morning time chirping.
* A most wonderful and amazing husband.
* Flowers throughout the house, gathered from beautiful gardens by my 11 yr. old son.
* A day at home for catching up laundry and lines (I hope!)
* Hope, in God alone, for the future.
* My children -- forever I will be grateful to God for His plans which gloriously surpass any of my own design.
* Song and dance. I love such things.

Catch-up Time

2010-06-18T08:40:00.002-05:00

BMI Showcase of New Artist Pick of the Month. Julia played at Rockwood Music Hall in Manhattan. Was a charming, intimate venue with a full house and pleasant audience. Lots of BMI folks there, an agent or two, Redlight Management people. And lots of Julia fans! A great show.

A night/day in Manhattan. Following the show, the kids traveled to Aunt Judy's house on LI while hubby and I took a brief but delightful vacation in the city. Waking up to busy street sounds, looking out the window to see school children walking with their parents, business ladies dressed in suits and sneakers, a young woman with a cello strapped to her back, and realizing that it was business as usual in NYC for all of them was amazing as always. Everyday life in such a place. So hard to imagine. But delightful, none the less.

Rick and I parked near the theater where later we would see the matinee performance of A Little Night Music with Catherine Zeta-Jones (Angela Lansbury's role was covered by her understudy). Once parked we hopped on a subway to Chelsea in the lower westside. We strolled, enjoyed breakfast at a favorite place, Rafaella's, then bought dessert for nibbling then and later at Billy's Bakery. The cupcake was luscious and the cheesecake was to die for. Wondering if Billy shares recipes.

The show was impeccable in many ways. Delightful singing, wonderful music, lovely costumes, and acting that was so very strong. The story, which centered only on adultery and immorality, was a bit tiresome, but then again, a reminder that some folks lives are thus focused. The end is empty and lonely. Jesus promises abundant life, doesn't He? Amen.

The trip home. Tiring, but when my turn to drive came, hubby rested in the back and Julia kept me company. I always love to spend time with my lovelies. We chatted about all sorts of things and nothing in particular. Just chatted. Love her!

The next morning was a "first thing in the morning" kind of morning. I had a dentist appointment at noon in Watertown. So, a quick tidying of the bedroom, an even quicker visit down street with daughter's family, and off I went. Home again to dance class in Potsdam -- WONDERFUL class!! Then Annie rehearsal.

And now, here I am, catching you up on these past couple of days. As if you needed to know all of that...

Another Season - Another Show!

2010-06-13T14:42:00.003-05:00

Annie begins! Soon I will become Grace Farrell, personal secretary to Daddy Warbucks.

I've alluded in recent posts to rehearsals for Annie commencing. Tomorrow. It's the first one. And I'm a tad bit excited!

I've copied my lines, tagged the scenes, researched hair styles and fashions. I've drilled material for tomorrow night's rehearsal and looked over the rest of the week's ensemble pieces. I've worked out regularly, started summer dance classes, and lost some weight (not the full amount designated, but maybe in time it will all be gone.)

I've not kept up the vocal disciplines needed. Will need to show more faithfulness in that. Immediately. As in later today. It is a must. My role doesn't have large amounts of solo singing but I do alot of ensemble work and the range lies in a high register. I need to be on my game if I want to survive with all my vocal chords intact!

And I've not shaped up my sense of who Grace Farrell is entirely. That will partly come as the lines are staged and I get to interact with the other characters. But mostly it will come in my bedroom as I hammer all those words into my memory banks (these days it takes a sledge hammer.) Once I have learned them thoroughly they will begin to take on a life of their own; Grace will become a real person with a complete personality that must come through in each and every line and movement.

Do all people enjoy hobbies as much as I do this one? I love it!

The down side? It consumes my life for 6 weeks or so. I guess that is okay. It isn't the kind of thing that can be spread out over a semester or school year like bowling or tennis. It can't be taken out and put away at my convenience like knitting or crocheting. When you're on you're on, but then it's over. Put away until the next season.

But during those 6 weeks I am energized, excited, stretched, delighted, engrossed and engaged and enlivened.

So hold on -- you'll be hearing all about this stage experience. What can I say? It will fill my world for the next month and a half. Annie. Here it comes!

Boxes and Memories

2010-06-11T20:43:00.005-05:00

The day was pleasant, the task a simple one. I was sorting and organizing CFA choral music. The boxes were labeled, the shelves filled. Now I just had to deal with the odds and ends. As I sifted through the pile of leftover octavos and songbooks, receipts and sundry papers were discovered. I thumbed through them, discarding most as I went. Then I came upon a 1998 Christmas program.

CFA presents:

Good King Wenceslas:
The King Who Kept On Giving

A Musical Play presented by K-12th graders

I looked it over slowly, carefully fingering this printed red piece of paper that had actually been there - in that place, in that time, with those people. I let the memories flood my mind, the sounds, the sights, the faces, the voices. Costumes, parents, students, funny songs. Lines and lyrics, dances and staging. Rehearsals with quick humor and fun laughter, the chaos of organizing all those students in one large production. It was a great time in my life.

I looked at the names listed on the program - all those precious names of so many young people - as I fingered it again. I contemplated the date: December, 1998. Time has gone by quickly. That season is long behind. Many of those students are adults with families of their own, their children already attending CFA. Other families have moved away. Some have met with tragedy.

Time is seldom kind. It refuses to wait for us. It steals treasured moments away from us, relegating them to memory's keeping at best. It isolates us from past pleasantries and happiness. It pushes, holds back, and is rarely moving at the pace of our choosing. Time makes us wait too long one day, only to find that the day has passed too quickly the next.

Oh, I felt an ache inside; sentimentality touched my heart with the pain that such melancholy brings. I learned some time ago to resist such sentiment. It is too bound to this world, this place that will not last. It is anchored to a system that will be destroyed. It is rooted in time.

But as I held that red colored program in my hand, I touched the past for a moment or two. My heart ached and longed for another time and place. But it cannot be reached. It cannot.

Slowly, reluctantly, and tenderly, I placed the recollection in the box along with the familiar red paper that stirred it; the box was placed on the shelf and the closet door was closed.

It was time to move on - again.

45 Days

2010-06-04T18:22:00.004-05:00

Molded.
Touched by Fingers and His prints show.

Changed.
Altered in a lasting way.

Transformed.
Made into something that wasn't before.

A metamorphosis.
Movement - growth - to a more mature stage.

Intensity, cost, privilege.
Let it bear fruit that remains.

Somehow This Suits Me

2010-05-29T21:40:00.001-05:00

A thought went up my mind to-day
That I have had before,
But did not finish, -- some way back,
I could not fix the year,

Nor where it went, nor why it came
The second time to me,
Nor definitely what it was,
Have I the art to say.

But somewhere in my soul, I know
I 've met the thing before;
It just reminded me -- 't was all --
And came my way no more.

emily dickinson

My Secret Anticipation

2010-05-28T09:13:00.005-05:00

Do you remember waiting to leave for vacation when you were a kid -- the excitement and expectation? The days before departure were long, indeed.

How about the anticipation of Christmas morning? Who could even sleep?

And have you ever envisioned opening night, playing the role you've dreamed of? Well, imagine with me for a moment. Excitement fills your every waking moment with inventions of how you will say a certain line, dance your choreography, and fill that stage with energy!

Today I wait in anticipation of a miracle; I believe God will raise someone up. We've asked, He's heard, He's given assurance to many, even a word of faith to people near and far. A great miracle is coming to shake, stir, embolden, and bring glory.

I have envisioned every possible scenario that my limited imagination can conjure. I have thought through the impact of such a wonder, dreamed of how it might be. I wake up in the morning and pray expectantly, filled with peace at waiting, undisturbed by bleak natural tidings, joyful in His faithfulness and goodness. After all, He is God, ruling over all things. And He is Father, I am daughter. And beyond that -- everything is created by Him, subject to Him. And nothing is too difficult. NOTHING!

So for today I continue to wait expectantly. If you catch me praying under my breath, smiling at my ponderings, and joyful at some inner secret, you now know why.

It's no secret any more!

A Cry From the Recesses

2010-05-26T13:18:00.004-05:00

Heavy hot air settles in every nook and cranny. No escaping this heat around here. Hardly a breeze stirs the stifling air.

But in my spirit, in the deepest nooks and crannies of my soul, where stifling heaviness had settled for too, too long, a current is beginning to move. A renewing breath, a whisper of rejuvenation, a touch of refreshing.

I think a storm is brewing somewhere in the spiritual realm, a storm bringing rains -- drenching, soaking rains that will wash, restore, and bring forth life. Life-sustaining waters to saturate the driest soul, nourish the weakest heart, and imbue the spirit man with faith. Emboldening faith to move mountains.

Oh, God, come. Come. We need You now.

"Annie" Fun Begins

2010-05-24T13:52:00.003-05:00

Well, it's past time.

Annie rehearsals will begin in mid-June. I had planned on being in fabulous shape by the time we start. You see, I will be playing Grace, Daddy Warbuck's personal secretary. And guess what? Grace dances!! She dances to fun music and song! And guess what? I haven't been diligent with dance in over 11 years! Yikes!

So as I said, it's past time.

I've been working out a few times every week for some time now (give or take a week now and then) but it's time to up the ante. One 20 minute work out will now increase to a 20 minute cardio-core workout followed by a 20 minute session for upper or lower body. Plus I will head to the CFC gym at least a couple times a week to do some good ol' fashioned tap along with jazz moves in my heels. That's also something I'm not quite accustomed to: high-heeled dance shoes. So, it's time to get a move on.

Well, maybe it's past time. But even so, look out Potsdam -- Grace is coming!

The Hour Glass

2010-05-21T21:14:00.005-05:00

She wrote something like this:

When conception occurs, the hour glass is tipped.

Sands sifting, sifting. Piles reversing, one side is now full, soon the other. Particle follows particle, one after the other, ceaselessly, consistently slipping through.

My days sift, slip, and the bigger pile has already reversed sides. My tipped hour glass is in motion, sifting, softly gathering in the bottom.

I look on in wonder, sad but content in His love, not fully comprehending. The keeper of the hour glass, my hour glass, is revealed in love, but sorrow mixes none the less.

One day I will be free from slipping, sifting, soft sands.

Learning Lessons of War

2010-05-19T12:22:00.006-05:00

Birthdays abound in our home during the month of May. May 10, 13, 18, and 28. So far we've not managed to celebrate a single one officially with the family. Little buddy had friends over for a bit of a party after church, but that has been it. So...

I guess we are too busy around here. Just plain too busy. But...

Some seasons demand such devotion to matters beyond the homefront. Consequently much must be sacrificed. For me and mine this is a time of intense battle. We've linked arms with others in this battle. When a soldier is thus engaged, he must set aside civilian entertainments. He is solely at the commander's beck and call. True, we busy ourselves with certain necessary daily duties. But our spare moments are filled with prayer meetings, personal prayer, time in the Word, letter writing, phone calls, discussions, more prayer, study of newly printed legislation, contacts with doctors, continued prayer, personal deliveries of important communiques to individuals in various towns , yet more prayer, and finally sleep.

Why? Hasn't God heard our initial prayer? Isn't it time to stand back and let Him do what He wants to do?

Complicated questions. Tangled situations. Schemes that are larger than imagined. The undoing of such schemes? How and when?

"Shall I pursue this troop? Shall I overtake them?" And He answered him, "Pursue, for you shall surely overtake them and without fail recover all."

This I know: God is looking to us, His people in this situation, to take our places, to arise in His strength... His tiny, little people - just little ol' us. And in spite of our insignificance in the enemy's eyes, in spite of demons who mock and jeer, God will help us overtake such enemies and "without fail recover all". His name will be glorified. I am certain of this. And I cling tenaciously -- with stubborn resolve -- to that certainty.

I am learning to summon strength in battle, about personal equipping with weaponry delivered to individuals by the Holy Ghost, to hold fast the sword put in my hand, about faith being released through Word of God, of the enemy's wicked attempts to undermine such faith. I see the need to recognize my enemy, to call him what he is, to hate him with a vengeance, and to desire his absolute destruction. He is wicked, vile, slimy, and despicable. He dares to taunt the people of God? He sneers at our little attempts? Such a wicked thing mocks my speaking of the Word of God?

Ha! We may be a rag-tag simplistic lot cast off by this world, but we belong to Him. Ha! These enemies will tremble. Ha! They will NOT have the last word. Our God reigns. He is our defense. And He will be our help.

Little David triumphed in his battle. He was little, insignificant, and rag-tag. His natural weapon was little, insignificant, and rag-tag, too. But David didn't win that battle. God did. David knew victory because God was with him.

We will know victory, too, for the very same reason. Watch and see what the Lord will do.

Pennies and Bandwagons

2010-05-17T17:09:00.003-05:00

Some people barge into things without taking stock of the situation. Some sign up to buy without counting the cost. And some just haphazardly jump on the band wagon because it looks exciting or someone else is doing it. They don't think two minutes ahead let alone a week or month or year.

But every once in awhile you find someone who counts thoroughly, considers every possible outcome carefully, and checks to make sure every single penny is planned for before signing up. My husband is one such kind of guy. Decisions come slowly around our place.

For me, the decisive ready-to-go kind of gal, gaining a deep appreciation for a "think all things through" paradigm has at last come. I've grown extremely grateful for this man of God who loves me, leads my family, and shepherds a large congregation. We have all benefited immensely from his thoughtful care.

So trust me when I say, he is not a rash man. He is entering into the fray in a more public way than he is accustomed. This is not an arena he enjoys or takes to naturally. But he has counted the cost and found that every penny spent will be worth it. In taking stock of the situation he found a need to act, whether it bring public attention or not. In looking ahead he sees the possibilities of much good to many people.

So, get ready, folks. This quiet thoughtful man may be a mouth piece. The band wagon may be just his style this time around. But he's counted the cost -- every penny.

Sunday On the Porch With Friends

2010-05-16T15:25:00.005-05:00

Six feminine type beings sit on the side porch making the most of this sunny Sunday afternoon. Three are busily searching phone books and online sites for addresses currently unknown. The names are, however, ascertained and verified. Another reads a biography, I believe, based on the photograph on the cover. On the love seat a homemaker fingers the catalog as she readies a list for a bulk food order. And here I sit, absorbing all of this, synthesizing into words for you, the reader.

Two more lady-types have just joined the bunch, young ones who have been resting and are now stirring themselves in preparation for evening events. And they just left, as quickly as they arrived. This rather quiet and unmoving group is not too interesting.

I have been referring to the porch crew as "the old ladies on the porch" in spite of the young age that many of them sport. Still, the activities shared qualify as "old ladies on the porch" endeavors, thereby entitling them a share in this title.

Soon the sun will fade, the addresses will be written out, a book will be closed until a revisit is accommodated, a finished list compiled for order time, and a blog written for you, my dear reader. And one by one we will slip away from this shared afternoon, off to other doings and places and people and demands, our pleasant shared moments relinquished to memory's keeping.

Sunday afternoons are far too short.

Setting My Sights

2010-05-12T14:20:00.002-05:00

Colors.
Ukelele playing.
Hosta plants.
Fresh baked bread and egg salad.
Heartache.
These are all present in my day today.

Pursuit of an enemy.
Promise of overtaking.
Hope of reclaiming.
Resolute determination.
Faith. Victory.
These are the constants of my reality.

Thanks be to Christ Jesus. Forever!

Provision!

2010-05-10T19:57:00.002-05:00

So my last post was a request for suggestions. I think not many of you have caught my move. Didn't get any help from you, at any rate. But now I need no ideas or recommendations because -- someone bought me a brand new GE double oven with a glass top stove! Wonderful!!

And the money that was given by an anonymous donor has been earmarked now for "Whatever you want to do with it!" So, now for some thoughts there. I think it will either purchase a new kitchen cupboard to hold all my pots and pans. Or buy some outdoor paint for the barn. Or house paint. That's all needed and a bit out of reach at the moment. So -- Hooray!!