Flip Flops, Iced Tea and Air Conditioning

While the rest of you are solving world events, here in the Pine Grove we are trying to stay cool.
We don't care about jazz club cool, or knowing all the newest info cool, just staying cool and not melting away in summer heat.
It's not quite 7am. as I write this. It's hot. It's close to 80F. Our air conditioning is running to keep us cool.
Heat like this (and worse) will continue until October. Hard to believe, isn't it? I think of you in your cool New England places where your growing season for flowers and tomatoes is short.
My hibiscus, begonias and etc. stayed outside during "winter" and began blooming again in March.
It's flip-flop weather. Better get your pedicure ready. Iron your linen clothing. Take two showers a day. Drink lots of iced tea and water. Don't do heavy yard work in the middle of the day.
My friend, Karen, says we cannot complain about the weather until August. I disagree.
Let's go throw ourselves in the pool.

Mrs. Busy Bee

I've been busier this week than I expected. I do my best to avoid busy things and busy times because I like quiet and a certain pacing to my days. I say to people, "I'm not busy".

I think I am fooling myself.

Meetings, meetings and a few more meetings this week have left me feeling that I must rush everything else I want to do.

I've observed people who stay busy all the time. I've watched them learn to expect busyness and become addicted to a frantic pace. I don't want to do that. I stopped trying to bring in the Kingdom several years ago when I realized that my job is to be faithful. Not perfect, not pushing myself all the time, not attempting to go and do what no woman has ever done before. I took off that paper SuperGal cape and stomped on it.

However, I do seem to have plenty to do. I'm not bored. I'm not trying for perfection. I have things to do.

I'm contemplative by nature while also being an extrovert. Such a fun combination. I charge myself up by being quiet and alone. I get re-charged by being with people. Finding a balance of alone-time with people-time takes some doing (as we say down heah.)

I know someone who isn't happy alone nor does she want to be with people. She spends her time working full-time and taking a different class every evening year round. She has several degrees and many certifications. I am not fond of her. Her busyness puts me off. Her activities keep her from forming deep relationships and from having an interior life.

Critical, aren't I? I see her and think, "O Lord, please don't let me be like that."

I have many interests, friends and younger children. I could fill every minute with church, home and community work. But, I'm not going to do this. I want a full life of staring into space, being deeply engaged, living in the present, enjoying simple pleasures and being a good partner to my husband, mother to my children and pastor to my people.

How's it going with you?

At my new charity work, I am a body not a brain. How much work can I process and accomplish within the rules? No one cares about my life or thoughts or anything other than the work I churn out.

Millions of people live like this.

The paid employees at the charity are there to learn work skills of responsibility. For the employees, coming to work on time and doing the assigned tasks are the skills which may help them succeed in the world. All are adults, none are very young, all have long histories of substance abuse, unemployment and distress. I'm not a leader. I'm one of the workers albeit one who isn't getting paid. A big difference between us is that I am able to count on having groceries without the charity's paycheck.

Before someone suggests how dilettante-y this is, I am aware I am only dipping a safe toe into a world of poverty.

However, because I live a rarefied life of three meals a day, a safe home, healthcare and so on, I need to have contact with those who do not. We are all in this together and if I separate myself from others, I may lose my compassion. Or, start to think that because of my circumstances that I am more valuable than those who don't have what I have. Or, I may not even notice the have-nots. And because Jesus said to get with the folks.

I began noticing the differences between my usual work and the charity work yesterday. I'm sure I'll observe more but my observations today are:

I'm not in charge. My leadership skills aren't needed.
My personal life isn't interesting.
My humor, personal style and advice don't matter.
My education and world view don't matter.

I'm not putting myself down. It's my body and strength that are valued. Do I do the work assigned? Do I help the organization or cause trouble?

I'm liking this. It's different. Makes my world larger to try to see the world as the workers see it without teaching them. I'm not the teacher, they are. I have no seniority, no standing there.

More later.
With a grateful heart, I am,
St.Casserole

After worship yesterday, one of the men said to another man, "Memorial Day is a day for ghosts."

I agree. We remember, recall and attempt to hold in our minds what war does to our families, our communities and the world. Death, destruction, crushed dreams, broken futures. Great loss.
Orphans, widows and misery.

I am barely holding on to my rage at the loss of life here in the Backwater of young men and women. This war counts on National Guard troops to fight. Backwater, being a poor place, has a long history of citizens joining the Guard to supplement income. I know other places do this but here in Poverty Central, how did it come to this that our people would vote and agree to serve against their best interests? We are so poor. We are so ignorant. We are dealing with heavy losses.

I'm not proud. I do not understand it. I am sitting on the razor's edge of being supportive of those who choose to go to Iraq and outrage that American lives are being lost in a battle built on lies, oil and greed.

We put out American flags down the church walk yesterday. I'm fine with that. I don't want American flags in the sanctuary but outside, on Memorial Day, seemed sympathetic and aware of God's ability to heal.

We've been praying for rain and a thunderstorm began during worship. I felt a sigh of relief roll through the pews because cows will be happier, gardens will grow and dusty back roads will be mud rather than choking dust. It's raining now.

The LH and I will go to lunch then do errands. Maybe we'll go look at "property" which is fun for us and torture for the Casserole Kids.
LD is off at church camp. Unlike the advice my mother gave me, I told her to "blow it out." She grinned and said "ok" but would avoid being "sent home."
The LS is sleeping with OMC on the bed with him. Young Cat is asleep on the sofa purring.

I'm not as proud to be an American as I once was. Today is problematic.
What's going on with you?

I'm listening to Anne Perry's Long Spoon Lane, a Charlotte and Thomas Pitt novel. I love listening to audio tapes while I drive. I keep a book going most of the time since I spend so many hours in the car. The NYT today has an article on the rise in popularity of audio books. I'm literal minded about the difference between listening and reading so I say I've listened to a book and reading when I hold a book in my paws to read.

I'm reading Reluctant Saint The Life of Francis of Assisi by Donald Spoto. Spoto is quite the teacher which shows in this book in the best manner. Very interesting history of Francis' times and the extraordinary life of the Saint. I'm not familar with the piety surrounding this saint (or most other saints) because of my Protestant background so his life, as Spoto writes it, is new to me.

I'm wearing Jergens' Natural Glow, some new kind of moisturizer which contains a tanning formula. Glow comes in fair to dark shades so I picked the fair. I've gone the route of turning from casket white to Life in the Bahamas overnight which astounds me and causes my buddies to hoot with laughter. Don't know if this latest product will give me that sun glazed look or not. I've waited my entire life for dead pasty white to return to fashion but it hasn't happened. If there is great interest among my readers, I'll report how the Glow works. (I hope you have better things to do with your time....)

I've had too many meetings this week. One set of meetings is important, the rest are just a way for organizations to pass time. I've been away from home so much that I haven't spent time with our children as I'd like. The older child has lost his driver's license so we'll go to the bureau to apply for another today. The younger child is off to church camp Sunday and she needs an appropriate bathing suit. Pray for me, bathing suit shopping is right up there with checking for head lice and cleaning up spew.

The elder cat is looking more frail to me but I think I'm just grieving over discovering that he is 21 years old. Preliminary grief doesn't accomplish much as we need to leave grieving for the actual end. Save some grief for the end, as a pastoral counselor told me once.

Young cat is busy on yard patrol chasing tree frogs, lizards and climbing trees on the run. He comes in for meals and the semi-obligatory cuddle then meows to go out.

The LH is getting up a golf game for tomorrow with three buddies. One buddy bailed this morning so getting another golfer is on his mind. Watching men make social contacts is entertaining. They don't do it as we do. I've been asked to purchase more golf balls. I swear I need to buy golf balls at garage sales by the grocery bag to keep up with the demand of spreading Mr. Casserole golf balls over a two county area.

Oh? Yes, I am preaching Sunday.
On what?
Well, I'm not quite that far as yet. It's only Thursday morning. Ekks! Ye Gads!
Oh! Best get to it........

Rats!

We say goodbye to a clergy couple this week. I can't tell you how sick I am of clergy folk moving around! They're moving about three hours north of here but this means that I can't see them often and their focus will change to a new place, new congregations, etc. I wish everyone would stay in one place so I could enjoy them for years.

I've mentioned that the majority of my clergy pals are UMC. These are my coffee drinking buddies who can cut through the bull faster than a butcher, love you when you are love-less and make you laugh when you have abdominal stitches. I'm not kidding, these people are treasures to me.

But, durn it, they are UMCs. Those folks move around about every 2-4 years. It's not that we presbyies don't move, but we seem to flow through the Bible Belt at a more leisurely pace. I don't move. My husband has an established business so we stay here. I may wander off into the country, but I live HERE. This has made me a senior member of my presbytery for longevity alone. And, I've become familar with seeing my sisters and brothers in Christ leave the area.

Rats!

Everyone needs friends. We all need people we can relax with, tell stuff we won't mean tomorrow and reflect on how dreadful/beautiful life is for us. I think that clergy may need friendship with peers even more. We aren't friends with our congregants. We love and cherish them but our leadership/shepherd stuff means that no matter how close our hearts are to the other, we are their pastor, not pal.

So, it's good to find other clergy and become friends. I may have the best situation as my clergy pals are UMC while I'm PC (USA). We don't compete over professionally or over territory.

I can call these folks any time of day or night. Quite an accomplishment for me when I've spent so many years feeling isolated in ministry.

I'm becoming dependent on another group of clergy, my bloggie gal pals in ministry. We resonate. We hyper-ventilate. We laugh. We are daff. Oh! Thank you, Lord for them! See my comments sections for links to these GREAT GALS.

Everyone is Welcome

As I study for my sermon, then begin to write portions, I think about my listeners.

I consider the needs of my congregation by thinking about issues they discuss like health, family concerns or what's going on in the community. I review national events and what implications these might have worshippers. Most of my people are gardeners, so I think about what is blooming. I'm almost an hour south of them so I can anticipate what will be blooming by looking at my own garden although down here we are often a few degrees cooler. (Lord knows that's significant because this morning, it was 89 degrees at 4:15 am.)

Exegeting the "buzz" of my particular congregation is a blend of observation skills, understanding their history as individuals and as a group, and intuition. I suppose all of us do this prep work unless we are composing sermons to place on top of listener's heads. I hope sermons go into people's hearts not in an emotional labile manner (I'm Presbyterian afterall) but in a way which integrates the Gospel with life.

The Bible is our story. Read the lives of the people in the Bible and it becomes easy to see how their lives are a mirror of our own no matter how separated we are by time and cultures. Something extraordinary happens to the disciples at Pentecost and the general public dismisses it as drunkeness. The woman with the issue of blood makes astounding resonance with a menopausal woman. Jacob and Essau are examples of sibling rivalry. The early Church upsets with outside influences, inclusion and doctrine are like the conflicts we discuss now.

But, I digress.

Sunday, as I drove the country roads to my sweet Church, I wondered who would be there in the congregation. Members are vacationing, going to weddings and graduations so I expected some empty pews. I thought about visitors. Of course, I want us to have visitors. Our bulletin of the order of worship is designed to explain why we do what we do for first-timers to a Presbyterian service. I explain anything and everything as I go through the service so that it is clear why we call our readings "lessons", for example. Visitors are welcome and we mean it.

However, visitors, because I do not know them can't be exegeted. If they are adult children visiting parent members, I can disciper something about them. At least I think I can. Adult children visit for Mother's and Father's Day, holidays and on a parent's birthday. If they visit other times, my ears prickle to find out what is going on.

We get visitors off the street and some become members. First off, I notice if they are twitching over a clergywoman. Not much I can do about that. I've had visitors who come in, look at me then keep looking at the door of my office wondering when the boy preacher will come out and take over. Some beam at me from beginning to end, mostly women do this, thrilled to see a woman in the pulpit. Or, my paranoia escalates into wondering if they are just very entertained to see me a la Dr. Johnson. Remember, I'm in the dark Backwater. I try to see the worship service through the visitor's eyes. Just guessing with this, but trying.

Over the years I've learned to interpret my congregant's faces during the service. I read their expressions and body movements. I know which families share little jokes during the service. Which members grimmace through the sermon (that's how they concentrate), which sit slack jawed listening to me, which will doze if I don't change the pacing of my speech, etc. With visitors, I don't have a clue.

What's your thinking about this?

How Was My Day?

I woke with a start this morning thinking it was a school day for the children. Whoops... they can sleep late. School is out.

The early start led me to the Methodist Men's rummage sale. Arrived at the church 30 minutes early with a big crowd waiting until the doors opened at 8. Nothing like a men's sale especially if the men are doing the pricing. Men's pricing means high tool prices, low everything else.

I found: sturdy metal table to repaint for the courtyard, a Jesus puppet (ponder that for a moment), a bag of scapulas, religious medals, mass cards and etc. My favorites are the St. Michael medal and a sterling silver St. Benedict. Several Roman Catholic piety booklets were mixed in with enough Reader's Digest books to choke a library. The Reader's Digest books were $1 each. I wanted to tell them that should sell them 5 for a dollar since not many people want those. I don't know why the RC stuff was at this Methodist sale but Backwater is very RC so I suppose they were a family member's or such.

I drove over to my favorite charity shop afterwards. Their pricing is confusing. A passable golf print with custom framing, non-reflective glass was $2.99. A velvet, I mean it!, painting of flowers in a large yukky frame was $9.99. Seldom is anything priced so high. I left both for other customers. Out in the book section I found 4 Sotheby's catalogs from the 1980's. Cost? $1. Go figure.

It's warm here. Getting warmer. I'm about finished with the pruning, planting, fertilizing and general yard stuff. I wish I had a few more coolish mornings. There's a branch hanging over the roof which needs cutting so I'll ask the LD to climb up there to sweep then prune. I'll do the gutters while she's up there. Don't think I won't do anything to keep the LH OFF the roof.

What's with you?

Wearing: OPI Cajun Shrimp pedicure

Thinking about: seeing Star Wars new episode

Shallow Factor: Quite Immense

St. Dunstan's Day

St. Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury (961-980) was known for outsmarting the devil. Dunstan is the patron saint of goldsmiths and others. After all his good works and long service to the Church he is most remembered by this piece of doggrell:

St. Dunstan, as the story goes,
Once pull'd the devil by the nose.
With red-hot tongs, which made him roar,
That he was heard three miles or more.

Tongs are a symbol of St. Dunstan as are horseshoes. Before serving as a bishop, Dunstan was a blacksmith and when, asked to shoe the devil's horse, he hammered a horseshoe on the devil's own hoof.The story goes that Dunstan let go of the devil when the devil promised never to enter a place where a horseshoe is over the door. This may be the origin of the lucky horseshoe idea. Reminds me of the Angel of death passing over the homes of the Hebrews whose doors were marked during the plagues.

Several questions for discussion:

1.Dunstan is remembered by a verse of poetry....How will you be remembered?
2. The saint lived in a world which personified evil as a devil. Other than the insurance industry, how is evil personified in our age?
3. What symbol would you choose for yourself? Tongs?
4. Do you think Wikipedia is a reliable and accurate source of information? How will high school students researching at the last minute be able to tell the difference between accurate information in Wikipedia and the work of a clever prankster?

Please place your name at the top right hand corner of your paper. Give your work to the teaching assistant wearing the red shirt with the horseshoe baseball cap as you go out.

Happy Monday to My LLS

Things to make you smile:
1. What cha doing? Eating Chocolate...
2. "Life in these United States..."
3. Stella means "star"
4. We had jelly donuts before you were born.
5. A big pinch
6. I'll always be older than you.
7. You learned all your bad language from me.
8. Brandon
9. Hector
10. I don't read fiction.

I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself. I went to lunch with my Presbyterian colleagues on Monday which is newish for us because we don’t send time together except at Presbytery meetings three times a year. There are about 14 of us (active and retired) living within a three county area. I have one friend in the group. I don’t know the rest. I might know a little about some of them but they are strangers and not who I’d call if I needed help. Getting together for lunch without any agenda may help us become friends.

We have no agenda for the lunches. There are no assigned readings or reports to give. Yet, we can’t seem to meet without the conversation jolting over to what we are going to do when the denomination splits. The group has two younger preachers and the rest of us are seasoned in the Lord’s service (I’m being pious here, and kidding). The preachers assume that in a few years the denomination will be gone and replaced with a new configuration of Presbyterians.
This makes me want to weep.

I was born and educated in the Presbyterian Church, U.S.A. and when I announced that as far as I could determine that God called me to the Gospel ministry, I was ordained as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament.

Our history, both in Scotland and here in the USA, is one of schism. We hate and fear schism but our history has seen us split into any number of groups. In 1973, the Presbyterian Church in America was formed from our body over the issue of authority of scripture particularly the ordination of women. In 1883, the Presbyterian Church in the US (known as the Southern church) merged with the Northern branch of the church and we became the PC (U.S.A.). This was called "Reunion" as the Southern church broke with the Northern Church in the 1860's over the issue of authority of scripture, particularly the question of "could baptized Christians own baptized Christians?"

You’ve got your Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), your Presbyterian Church in America (this group considers us to be apostate which is the churchy way of suggesting that we are stinky and our momma’s aren’t nice), the Orthodox Presbyterian Church, the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church, and I’m sure a few more that I can’t remember.
Breaking apart seems to be our tradition.

In 1977, the Presbyterian Church in the U.S. began to discuss in a public manner the ordination of gay and lesbian persons for ministry. I was ordained in 1978.

I hadn’t considered gay and lesbian ordination for one moment as I did not know any gay or lesbian people seeking to be ordained (looking back, I must have been blind as a bat and I’m sorry). I was coping with the newness in the Deep South of the idea of women preachers. I took some amazing heat about being a minister and when I tell those stories, today’s women seminarians think I’m being dramatic and exaggerating.

I thought then that my denomination was proactive to ordain women. Little did I realize that the denomination beat the idea to death for years, discussed it endlessly in committee and that many pastors were against the idea. We ordained our first woman pastor in 1964. The Northern church ordained a woman in 1956.

The Church, the body of Christ Jesus, moves slowly.

Since 1977, my denominational conversations have rotated around the ordination of gays and lesbians. We don’t move forward in the discussion. We don’t move backwards. We stay at arm’s length and blast each other. Just like our culture, we are not civil with one another.
Summer before last the Confessing Church movement began with a group of pastors and churches who felt that they must stand up and defeat any incursion by the proponents of opening ordination standards.

Other groups who support the ordination of gay and lesbian persons sprang up.
I’ll have to say that the nay sayers get crabby faster than a cornered cat. I read more of the nay-sayers group’s info then I do the supporter’s info. When I read the supporter’s info, I notice more charity and a greater willingness to talk.

I can’t work out the issue for my bloggie readers. My point, and there is a point, is that my entire ministry has been spent within the discussion of ordaining gay and lesbian persons.
Many days, I feel discouraged about hearing about the issues over and over. I think of the opportunities we’ve missed to do mission because we’ve gotten to the point that the evangelicals hate the liberals and the liberals want to protect the world from the evangelicals.
We’ve changed from four Presbytery meetings a year to three. We’ve moved from annual General Assemblies to biennial Assemblies. Does this make sense? The big guns say this saves the denomination money but I see it as a mis-guided attempt to keep the conversations civil by limiting discussion time.

I believe that we should move in more closely when there is conflict, not move away.
I do not like this conflict. I do not like the effort spent on protecting the church rather than doing mission. I wish the pro-ordination people presented clear biblical arguments for their case. I wish the no-ord people would put aside their self-righteousness and egos. I wish we could all get along so that we could start new churches, encourage people to enter the ministry and nurture them on that path. I wish we could focus our attentions on great preaching, teaching and help for our people and seekers.

I wish we would learn to pray as Jesus’ taught us before yelling at one another. I wish we would allow the Holy Spirit to move our hearts to see this issue and our history in a larger, more loving view.

I've been punished in my presbytery for commenting on this issue.

Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
with all Thy quickening powers.
Come spread abroad the Saviour's love
and that shall quicken ours.

Preaching

I'm applying for a grant for my preacher group to provide us with books and a trip to study preaching uppada East Coast.

Any suggestions for books on preaching, commentaries or periodicals we might add to our list?

I read The Journal for Preachers from Columbia Theological Seminary each quarter, so it's on the list. The UMC preacher's like William Willimon's subscription preaching journal which is on their list of needed reading. What else do we need?

Many thanks to the reader who was the 4k visitor here. Not that I notice numbers or anything...
Thanks.

The Slump

Hitting a slump while playing a game, working on a project or writing a blog isn't fun. There's not much humor in being slump-y or stuck.

I'm stuck. I'm slumpy. I'm not hitting any of my targets. I think my sermons are boring; my blog is listless and my general demeanor is blah.

I'm getting enough sleep, exercise and green vegetables. I'm not so sure what's going on.

However, I do have a clue and I'm ready to publicly throw blame at my ennui

The LH signed up for Netflix. The LLS and TLSiL like Netflix so LH had to get it, too.

We began with the Vicar of Dibley (a favorite of mine), then Father Ted (not so funny), Ballykissangel (wonderful but we ran out of seasons to watch), Monarch of the Glen (watched all of those, too, then couldn't get more). Then it happened.

Under the influence of Rei, we began watching Deadwood, an HBO production. We've avoided HBO because of thrift and the desire to have some control over what the LS and LD watch. The first two episodes horrified me. I was outraged with the characters, the profanity of language and behavior. Profane. Rei warned me but I continued to watch.

We had to turn off the sound and stop the dvd when children came in to see us. I think I'm open to the culture but I must not be very open because the language began to wear on me. Repeated references to body parts and activities and dreadful treatment of women, disregard for life, greed, etc.

I got involved in the story of Deadwood. Characters like the despipable Al Swearingen had compassion; beaten down women rose up; Farnum reminds me of people I know here in the Backwater. I began to hum the theme music.

My pal Susan suggests that "garbage in/garbage out" is not good for me and for someone as suggestible as I needs to monitor what I see and hear. Duh. Of course.

There is much in culture I avoid because it doesn't interest me, repels me or seems part of the death-loving misery I don't believe in. If I walk through a casino, I get depressed watching the oldsters at the slots looking dead faced. Why don't they find an activity which enriches their spirits instead of paying the house to kill the hours? I don't hang out in bars because I don't see drinking as entertainment and I can visit with people in other environments with less noise and unpickled perspectives.

I know myself well enough to know I want to watch all of Deadwood. I want to know why the characters behave as they do and if there is any resolution for their conflicts. I want to see if they become better people or reconcile with one another. I want to see if hope emerges. Is there something these characters can teach me?

I mess with something until I master it or until I lose interest. No excuses here but I think Deadwood is getting to me and I best get to that place where I can let it go or I'll be known as "slump blogger".

You doing ok? How's it for you?

Cute Girls

When 13 year old girls are cute, they are very cute. Sans attitude and expressions of repulsion, they are so very pretty and, even, fun. We have two in our home right now. I hear lots of laughing and giggling going on in the LD's room. My study is across the hallway from her room so I eavesdrop. The girls are going to the teen center tonight and will be wearing matching pink t-shirts.

Garage sales were wonderful today. I came home with three projects: a bedside table to paint, an antique vanity mirror stand with drawer to repair and flower pots to fill with begonias and impatiens. I found the following: sterling silver cross from Mexico .25; sterling and brass cross .75; counted cross stitch picture .75, Hard Rock cafe zippered hoodie $1; CD holder which looks like a rotating book rack $4; Eileen Fisher summer dress $1; 2 Lemony Snickert books .50; a faux leather painting kit $1; a Harley Davidson cat collar for Andy .10; outside table to hold books while in the hot tub $6; and, a pair of Tommy Bahama new mules .25. Sorry to be putting prices beside the purchases. There is something tacky about talking money but I did want you to see the thrift I used as well as the deals I got. The only downside of the morning was the dry as dust banana bread we bought at the church rummage sale (Susan and I hollared "Squirrels!" and threw it out the car windows after first bite) and stopping our shopping so Suz could run home to take her boy to a ballgame.

I love Saturday mornings. I receive a few hours free from the drip...drip...drip of dwelling on my sermon. I'm ready for tomorrow or at least I think I am ready. The Ascension drove me nuts for years but I think I've finally gotten a clue about it.

Glad to see you. What's going on with you?

School Buildings: An Introduction to Ugly Spaces

The public school year ends on May 17th. I'll be glad to have the LS and LD home more with a vacation schedule. They can stay up later, take fewer before bed baths and enjoy the ten weeks of vacation. Both children have full schedules for the summer.

Yesterday when I picked up the LD at school I looked hard at her school buildings. The buildings are ugly. Brick and metal boxes with ugly doors, bad colors, no style at all. The interior of the school buildings don't look better. Every detail of the school is utilitarian; nothing beautiful to enjoy. Nothing.

Does this matter?

My elementary school was a red brick neighborhood school with entrance pediments, shaped columns, arched windows on the facade and a curving stairway inside. My middle school was a brick and metal box. My high school was more brick and metal boxes. Does the architecture of the school effect the learning? I would think it does. My living environment sure makes a difference in how our family functions. Lighting, colors, ceiling height and furniture impact how we interact with one another.

I must remember to tell the children that their colleges will have pretty campuses. I think this will surprise them as the ugly functionality of school buildings is all they know. I remember watching LS see the Duke campus for the first time. Looking back, I'm not sure he comprehended a group of harmonious building.

We have a Session meeting this afternoon. One of the agenda items is discussion of painting and repairing the sanctuary. It's time for the congregation to freshen our historic space with repairs and new paint.

I'm preaching on Ascension texts Sunday. Let us be in prayer for one another.

Thucydides and Thomas Cahill

Cahill, author of The Gifts of the Jews, How the Irish Saved Civilization and Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea Why the Greeks Matter quotes Thucydides in the Greeks book:

Practically the whole of the of the Hellenic world was convulsed, with rival parites in every state---democratic leaders trying to bring in the Athenians, and oligarchs trying to bring in the Spartans... To fit in with the change of events, words, too, had to change their usual meanings. What used to be described as a thoughtless act of aggression was now regarded as the courage one would expect to find in a party member; to think of the future and wait was merely another way of saying one was a coward; any idea of moderation was just an attempt to disquise one's unmanly character; ability to understand a question from all sides meant that one was totally unfitted for action. Fanatical enthusiasm was the mark of a real man, and to plot against an enemy behind his back was perfectly legitmate self-defense. Anyone who held violent opinions could always be trusted, and anyone who objected to them became a suspect... As a result...there was a general deterioration of character throughout the Greek world. The plain way of looking at things, which is so much the mark of a noble nature, was regarded as a ridiculous quality and soon ceased to exist. Society became divided in to camps in which no man trusted his fellow. (Thucydides pg 191-2 Why the Greeks Matter, Thomas Cahill 2003 Nan Talese Doubleday)

What do you think about this?

Note to Self

When I preach I will never use sheep illustrations until I have spoken with a sheep farmer. I will not use a shepherd's crook to explain leadership, either.

I will not pronounce Greek place words with a Southern accent until I have both looked up the Greek text twice to check the word and spoken with an contemporary educated Greek person to check how they pronounce it.

I will not ask children during the children's time a question until I have considered every possible answer that might be given to the delight of the congregation.

Small town living has it's blessings. When I ran out of gas on the highway coming home from an upstate swim meet with my LD, I was able to pull in at a roadside shop. I went inside to ask where the nearest gas station was. I asked the gal behind the counter who owned it (I knew she'd know her neighbors) and then I called the gas station. I called the owner by name when she answered the phone and said, "Hey......it's St Casserole, how y'all doing?" I spoke to her as if I knew her and told her my problem. She sent over her son who put in enough gas to get me to the station for more. He wouldn't take any money and said, "Mama said she hoped you'd come by. She hasn't seen you in years." This was charming as I did not know his Mama from Adam's housekitty. We went by the station, filled the gas tank and I went inside to pay. Mama and I greeted each other as if we'd known each other for years. It wouldn't be polite to forget someone even if you never met them. Is that sweet or what?

Small town living has it's down side when rumors get going and won't stop. I was having lunch when the preacher's wife came over all concerned. She asked me if it was true that the LH and I were separated. I 'bout started crying because that question hurt. I told her that was not true and she must have us confused with someone else. I asked her to tell me who'd told her this rumor and she refused. I can't stand that. Let me know who is saying what and I'll call them and deal with it. Don't do that junior high school thingie of saying mean stuff but not giving the hearer a way to fix it. I pressed her for the name but she wouldn't budge. Made me angry.

Small town life has sweet moments for sure like yesterday when I was having a pedicure in our local Cut 'n Curl. The gal two chairs over and I began to visit. I didn't know her but enjoyed the chat. I finished with a new coral OPI polish (wish I could remember the name!) on my toes. As I was leaving, she asked me how my cat was doing. I was shocked as she called my Old Man Cat by name and I didn't understand how she knew him. Turns out that she was his first owner and was the previous owner of our home. I hadn't met her in all these years. She told me that O M C was born in 1984 in a neighboring county on farm. He was a gift to her daughter. When she divorced the previous owner of our home and moved on, he would not let her take O M C and she's missed the kitty ever since. I invited her to come by and see him. She was stunned that he was alive still. Can you believe he is 21 years old? He's on daily IV's for his kidney disease but eats well, runs, jumps on my lap and seems ok but more frail. His eyesight is very poor and he doesn't feel the need to groom himself much. I comb him and damp mop him with a washcloth.

This is all the big news I have. My sermon is 7/8's finished. Thanks for being here.

O Ye Possums Awake!

Oh, how wonderful! Oh, what Joy! I saw an opossum in the back yard this morning! The robin may be a harbinger of Spring but a possum is a sign of joy and wonder.

Several years ago, I found two large garbage cans upright outside the greenhouse. Both were filled without about 2" of water from a rain storm. One held four tiny bodies of curled up baby possums. I wept. Possums are a yard's best pal because they clean up the mess, make no trouble and are throwback prehistoric animals in our world. I love 'em. (Note to LLS: consider the imaginary playmate I had under my bed on Pecan Ave. You were barely born then so I guess you don't remember? Jelly donut memory here...)

I gently poured out the water in the cans watching the baby possums flow out on the ground. I couldn't stop crying at the thought that my carelessness had killed the finest yard creatures in the world. Why hadn't I taken the time to make nail holes in the base of the plastic cans so that water wouldn't collect in them?

I wandered away, too upset to do anything outdoors. Later, I came back to the cans and the babies were gone. I don't know if the babies were "playing possum" or if a predator had come for them. I never found out.

For years I've been searching for possums. Not an easy thing to do as they are quiet, night time wanderers who do not want to see people. Early this morning I saw a white and grey possum stroll around the azaleas pausing to check out some delicious potential treat in the grass. The possum looks like a close to the ground cat. If I hadn't seen the long skinny tail I might have thought it was Yukko, the neighbor's kitty.

Is April great or what? Beautiful Spring weather with cool mornings and evenings. Plenty of green growth, the season of pruning and celebrations! Eastertide means He's loose!

Sweet Patootie Day

We marked twenty-four years of marriage yesterday. Not much of an accomplishment in many ways because the road of marriage has been a pleasure to me. The bumpy parts were times of grief over miscarriages, depression, death of parents and public misery but even those were shared so the bumps were bittersweet. We shared the bumps as lovers and friends with each other so the pain was not less but owned by two hearts.

There isn't a perfect relationship anywhere. When people comment on their marriages, even the good ones, they say something like, "It hasn't been perfect........" Of course it hasn't! It's goofy to expect relationships to be perfect and to grade ourselves next to perfection. Rather, has the relationship shown the grace to proceed through the loneliness and crap of life with sparks of joy and understanding?

I love the LH. Everyday I'm grateful for him. Without his humor, perspective and even temper, I'd be less of a person.

I salute my Patootie. May God grant us 24 more years together.

Seeking God

I can't imagine that it is easy being a seeker.

Prayer must seem like a shot in the dark, voicing words or interior speech toward an unknown target. What are proper subjects for prayer? What words to use? What if I am wasting my time?

I'm digging my memory to recall what seekers tell me about beginning attempts to pray to God.
I don't remember a single day that I didn't know about talking with God in prayer. I listened to my mother's prayers as a tiny kid and had her counsel on how to pray throughout her life.

I've had times I felt I could not pray, though. Life presents us with situations where we stumble into confusion over how and when and even why to pray. I remember days when I couldn't figure out how to talk with God about situations. The language stumped me as did organizing my intentions or reasons for praying about a certain event. I was grateful to discover that one can pray without words. Silently focusing on prayer without much clarity or just groaning toward God is prayer, too.

How does one begin to pray when one is inexperienced with trusting God to hear? I suppose the answer is to just pray. (Curse Nike for aphorismic contagion!) Begin with simple conversation to God with God in mind. Doesn't have to be perfect. Doesn't have to be organized. Tenative conversation which asks God for help or understanding is prayer.

One doesn't master prayer. Prayer is talking with God and listening to God's response. No one is an expert although some people have more experience with prayer than others do. Cut through the socialized mess of our thoughts and place our deepest selves in front of God. Then, be patient. Or, if you can't be patient, keep talking to God. Present that need over and over again.

Ask God to help you learn about prayer. Ask for help.

Let's ask the bloggie pals what they'd add to this...... Comments, please.

LD Wins Seat on Stu Co!

Election results tallied over the weekend by Backwater School Officials reveal that LD is a winner for the Middle School Student Council

Thrilled Middle School student, LD, received word while in P.E. class that she was among the ten new members of the Student Council. Listening to the results in the acoustically challenging gymnasium was difficult but when her name was announced a cry of delight went up from the crowd. A field of thirty ran for the ten seats so many tears were shed by those who were not elected. Those not elected included two of LD's pals so the results were bittersweet.

(I do not know if the kid with the printed t-shirts won.)

It is a HAPPY NIGHT here at campaign headquarters. The victory party continues.......

Although it's a tad after 7am. the LD is moving slowly toward school. The Student Council results are announced today. As I fell asleep last night I heard her roaming the house and found her at 11pm. holding a roll of drawing paper. "I can't sleep," she said. "Go to sleep," I said. I hope the results go well for her.

My bloggie pal Mark of the Lepper Colony comments that he ran for Stu Co every year without success. I understand this. I'm proud he ran year after year. Shows leadership initiative. However, my evaluation is the perspective of an adult. As a kid, I was too shy to even consider running for a school election.

The "many rooms" John 14 sermon went well. Or at least I got a number of positive comments after preaching. I think I hit a nerve with my congregants because I spoke about grief. Grief is universal to us all. My sermon was about Jesus preparing his disciples for his death and absence then about our grief over deaths in our lives and the pain of absence from loved ones.

On the way to church yesterday I saw: goats, horses, buzzards, cattle, cats and my favorite for the week: a lone chicken in the middle of the main town road. The chicken was poised in the middle of the road trying to make that decision---should I stay or go? As I proceeded through the stop sign, chicken blasted across the street into the bushes.

I live a city life, even here in the Backwater. I don't see chickens unless they are in a plastic pack at the grocery store.

Our humidity is low and the days cool. Oh how wonderful! I want to prune more azaleas! I want to be outside!

I'll post election results as they arrive.

Glad to see you all. My local pal who reads this blog told me that my entries were like "brain gas". I'm not sure this is a compliment. I did laugh at the idea that I blow off brain steam here on the blog and assume it is, at least, true partially.

This is no ordinary Friday! Today is the middle school election for student council. The LD's campaign speech is ready along with her outfit and attitude. Voting is today with the results coming on Monday.

Did I tell you that one candidate had t-shirts made for her campaign? I'm not talking buying a three pack of Hanes then writing "Vote for Cissy" with a marker. I'm talking printed, good quality, cap-sleeved t-shirts for a middle school campaign. I discussed the campaign with another Mom, who I'd not met before, and told her with a straight face that I'd ordered pizzas for both lunch shifts with "Vote for LD" in pepperoni on each pie. She looked stricken and guilty that she hadn't thought of this first until I burst out laughing.

It has been one heck fire of a week.

Sermon prep continues at a slow pace. "In my Father's house are many rooms....." is whirling around in my head but won't be the focus of my sermon. I just can't understand what that phrase means even if I've read four commentaries.

The weather is so lovely. Warm days, cool evenings and a spring-ish quality of light which is more beautiful each day. If I turn my head, I can look out the french doors into the courtyard and see blooming hibiscus, in coral and red; tiny yellow flowers, a rose about to bloom and fresh green ferns. And, to add to my happiness, I've an old man cat on my lap.

The preachers gather tonight for supper. I'll be glad to see them all. I'll bring an appetizer and I may make an entirely uncool, too sugary candy bar pie.

Glad to be back with you. Hope all is well.

Hello? Is anyone here?
My keyboard is dusty. Cobwebs on my screen. Been off-line for days.
I think I'm back. Two techs, three home visits, much fiddling with this computer.

I missed you all.

The Ps.23 sermon went well on Sunday. I was glad to be back with my people after 2 Sundays off.

I'm the home campaign manager and chief financial officer for a middle school student council race. I woke up this morning worrying that her posters wouldn't communicate quickly enough as the students pass by them. Oh puleeze! Must I be competitive even about a child's stu co race? I attached ribboned cards to about 60 wooden pencils last night. I bought suckers (known to you as lolipops?) for hand outs then discovered that she can't give out food incentives. The election is Friday. Thank goodness that the campaign begins today and ends on Friday. My nerves couldn't take it. Cheers to the LD for entering the race. Someone bring me a sedative for my nerves....

I think I've forgotten how to blog. More later and glad to see you!

Psalm 23

There's been a suicide in the community. It's time to teach and talk about the misery of despair.

When the preachers met for coffee on Wednesday, three of us began talking about the lectionary for Sunday. It seems to us that Psalm 23 is a good place to begin a discussion about depression, hopelessness and being bone-crushingly lonely. Walter Bruggeman, retired professor of Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, has a sermon on Psalm 23 in his The Threat of Life. I'll read it after I finish my sermon so that I don't let it influence me. It's too early in the process for me to see someone else's sermon. The other preachers think it has great power for seeing the Psalm and I'm sure they are correct.

I'll be focusing on the "he prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies." Misery and depression sure feel like enemies to me.

O Lord of Life, be with the family of ......... Let them know your presence through the words and actions of their friends and family. Let them be comforted by those who love them.
Teach each of us to live so closely to you that we cannot think of our lives apart from Your life. Keep us in your loving care so that we may hold on to this life until it's end. Comfort those who struggle with hopelessnes and despair. In Christ's name we pray. Amen.


(I had to call the computer tech again. I'm back online again for awhile, I hope.)

Sermon Blogging (Easter 4)

First thoughts on the lectionary passages for Sunday, April 17 (Fourth Sunday of Easter):

Acts 2:42-47 this is a Pentecost passage. The people were happy and sharing their bread. All possessions were shared. Except for notable experiments in "shared living", we Westerners read this passage and start shouting about communism. Of course, communism meant forcibly shared with inequity, while this passage is one of happiness where the fervor of Life in the Lord overflowed in making sure everyone had what they needed, with "glad and generous hearts". Impressive.

Psalm 23: I've heard 2k sermons on this text and do not tire of it. My favorite translation of the first line is: "the Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need." Will use this as the responsive reading, most likely. Here, as in the Acts text, need is being met.

IPeter2:19-25 The downtrodden are reminded that just because one is mistreated, one doesn't respond with mistreatment. Not just an ethical ideal but a response to following the One who
"suffered, he did not threaten." Christ "entrusted himself to the one who judges justly." Ah, the idea of trust. Who do we trust with our lives? "By his wounds you have been healed (2:24b)" See reference to shepherd and being returned to the fold.

John 10:1-10 Need to explain gates, sheepfolds and sheep recognizing the shepherd's voice. See chapter 9 to understand who Jesus is talking with when he uses this shepherd metaphor. Lovely passage. Pulls together shepherd images of other passages but flips the Pharisee's understanding of shepherds (ew, yuk! stinky lowlifes!) over to show the shepherd's protection. Ultimate protection of sheep.

Part 2

If I were seeking to find out about God, I'd look at Christianity first. I'd move slowly and take my time to think about what I was seeking and where I might find it.
I would begin with the Bible but not think I needed to read it from beginning to end. I'd look at the first pages of the first book in the Old Testament, Genesis, and read the first couple of chapters or so. In my notebook, I'd record questions and thoughts about this account of how God made the world. How has this idea of God creating influenced history, philosophy and current events. Why does this story have to be a literal one or do I feel somehow that it is literal and I just never considered this before now?

I'd go to the gospel of John. "Gospel" means "good news". John is in the New Testament, go to the back of the Bible. Look for John in the "Matthew, Mark, Luke" area. I'd begin reading it with a desire to see the story with as few filters as possible. Not an easy task for anyone who has grown up in a christian influenced culture or environment. What is John trying to say and why? Who does John say Jesus is? What does John tell me about Jesus?

I might, in my early days of looking for God, not go to a church unless I felt comfortable. I'd want to have some information about the church under my belt and not want to be thinking I'd master God by going to church. However, if I had a friend I trusted who I could see was practicing her or his faith, I might go to worship with the understanding I was searching not finding at this point.

I'd be wary of churches whose main interest in me was getting money. Or making me say that I was "saved" until they explained, in language which made sense to me, what "saved" meant. If they handed me little folded papers with pictures and the words, "4 spiritual laws", I'd run. If they told me I was going to hell until I believed, I would run. And, if they tried to make me be like them in the first few weeks, I'd run. Honest search has integrity. I wouldn't let anyone take that from me.

I'd like to be told that no one is a finished Christian but that all are practicing. I can't stand arrogance in any situation so finding it in the faith sphere angers me. Doctors practice, lawyers practice, Christians practice. I want the journey to count for something (it does in every other area of my life) not just the final destination.

And do not try to scare me with threats of hell. Good grief! I live in a terrifying world of terrorists, politicians who care nothing for me, drug companies who do not tell the truth but push their merchandise and public schools with gun problems. I don't need any more fear. I'm not reading the "Left Behind" series to get myself to God, either.

I'd be looking for a love that won't let me go that loves beyond any love I can even understand and a faith which I can immerse myself into my entire life. I don't want a faith I can master the way I mastered algebra or driving a car. When I'm 70, I want to be asking questions and pushing the envelope with God.

Help me think this along, folks, I've been on this road so long that I've almost forgotten my own beginnings. I talk with people about faith 'bout everyday and I'd like to do right by them.

The church hasn't hurt me by theologically abusing me or teaching me stuff that ruined my life. I'm grateful for this. The hurt I've experienced with church has been the ignorance of those who think I'm missing the most important appendage needed to serve God. Even this prejudice didn't turn me away from God. Church isn't the end-all, it's the way for us all to be together on this journey but it isn't a substitute for God. I love the Church even if some church people creep me out. But hey! I'm not looking for the church to be perfect. If you are looking for this, you are setting yourself up for great pain. Church is composed of people who are as flawed as anywhere else in society, sometimes worse. As the LH says, it's good for these flawed people to be in church because it "keeps them off the streets".

More later.

How Do I Get to God?

I may be starting a series here.

I've never known a time without knowing God in my life. I was taught about God as a little child and the fascination caught me. This is not to say that I haven't had many, many times when I felt I was praying to a blank wall or wanted to punch God out. Nor does it mean I've achieved a level of holiness that you all should imitate.

But, let's pretend, I'm just starting out as an adult and I want to know about God. Where shall I begin?

I'm aware that "christians" don't appeal to many people. If it's not the stunted view of the world shown by the right wing believers, it's the goofy Precious Moments sentimentality of the pious and overly-devoted. I'm not attracted to either. Don't want a stunted world view. I want an understanding of God which recognizes God's magnitude, mystery and ability to transform human hearts. As for the Precious Moments type of faith, I'm too hungry to be fed by sentimentality. I live in a real world, not a fantasy where sweetness and light is enough to fix the problems of life together. Give me more.

I might begin my search by looking at my life and noting where I am broken. What am I missing when I look around my world? What am I paying attention to that is empty rather than life-giving? After considering these questions, and others, I may have a direction to follow. If knowing God means anything, it must have something to do with ordinary life. Life of lunchboxes, taxes, partners, death and etc. Otherwise, it's back to the Precious Moments concept of faith and it's brother "I'll just name what I want and claim it" thinking. (If this worked then all five year olds would have a pony, a real live pony, in their back yards).

I might have to spend a good bit of time thinking about my anger at God. Presumptious thought that I, a speck on the windshield of life, am worthy to have anger at God, but Geez Louise! who among us has not wanted to punch out God? As the author says, "our arms are too short to box with God." Yep. Where am I angry? Is it because my childhood taught me that authority figures aren't dependable? Do I worry that I will be abandoned, unloved and uncherished at my life's end? Has the grief of death convinced me that God doesn't give two hoots about me and my life? Have I found that when I really put my weight on God, God didn't help me?

I worked on the anger issue for years and haven't completed it, yet. For several years I ignored God because all the faith stuff was getting on my nerves. I could not relate to the christians around me. I cared about different things. I didn't want to be holy as they were holy. I didn't realize that we come to faith as individuals with all our individuality intact. It's us, as we really are, that we bring to God, not some copy of how someone else does the faith.

My anger sizzled again when I had my first encounter with infertilty. It was clear to me that I was "worthy" of having a baby but I couldn't get past all the infertility stuff. Doctors, more doctors and miserable physical stuff interfered with my relationship with my loving spouse. I believed I deserved a baby and I was being denied. Made me mad. Hurt my feelings. Made me wonder what in the heavens God was doing not making my body produce a baby. Crappy mothers conceived in the alleys of bar rooms while I was a shining example of goodness and couldn't conceive. (Try to read this without laughing at my audacity. I must have thought there was a "good girl premium" in the cosmos. I thought I deserved what I asked for and so I was angry as the dickens.)

I'll not tell you how this worked out and what I learned. This is an entry about how to get to God not how I figured it out or was led to figure it out.

Let me take a break here as my family is getting up and I have to concern myself with waffles, finding socks and encouraging children to "have a happy day". More later.

Odd day. I've a vacation Sunday. No sermon to prepare. No bulletin to create. No panty hose and preacher clothes today.

How did I spend the day? I did nothing. Wasn't an intentional Sabbath but rather a day of feeling out-of-sorts and icky. Icky because of the theater popcorn last night which, I believe, had been popped with oil from last year. Out-of-sorts because a day I'd planned to use for holding hands with my LH during worship didn't happen. He sat near me most of the day feeling rotten, too. Between us, we went through a box of kleenex, grumbled about pollen, popcorn and feeling poorly. I like doing stuff with my LH but illness doesn't count as companionable time.

However, he is companionable, though more quiet, even when he is poorly. He's a prince and I mean it.

Today feels like time stuck somewhere not-so-pleasant because it feels like wasted time.

I'm sorry I've been wailing about needing time away from the pulpit. I'm ready to go back to my regular week with regular study time and reflection. I'm ready.

Talk to you later, tater.

Here's a question for you:
Are there any stories or story lines left to tell? Has anyone researched and catalogued all the plot lines of fiction? I think I remember reading about this at one time years ago but I could be dreaming.
I know that everyone has a story to tell, a personal perspective to reveal in words but what stories have yet to be told? I'm not thinking of a blow by blow report of the End Times here but have all the varieties of human experience been novelized by now?
Just wondering.
Tell me, if you will, what stories have not been told yet?
Is there a series of a clergywoman who investigates murders? I'd read this series.
Is there a novel about life written from a cat's perspective?
Tell me, what book hasn't been written as yet?

Missing You

Yikes! I've been off line for days! The computer tech showed up on Thursday. I've been looking for him since early Lent.
I missed ya'll. I missed my email. I missed the NY Times online.
I didn't get to read the Papal funeral stuff online and forgot to watch TV so the longest serving Pope of my lifetime went out without my minute by minute attention.
I missed reading your blogs.
I'm sure I missed the email from NPR asking me, no begging me, to become a commentator because they lack a clergywoman's perspective and want the nation to hear my accent. I promise to say "caint" rather than "can't" when they do put me on the air.

Spring Dishwashing Press Release

Today is a beautiful day here in the Backwater. A beautiful day in a beautiful month, I think. Temperate weather, blue skies, not warm enough for mosquitos or wasps with lots of pruning to be done, preachers to drink coffee with and a new dishwasher coming this afternoon. Yippee!

The Old Man Cat is venturing outside to enjoy Spring. With the Gang of Terror Cats gone he can sun on the driveway and sit on the courtyard bricks remembering his youth as Squirrel Mangler or Running For No Reason Cat or Big Cat in the Neighborhood.

I feel great, too. Pruning has upset my shoulders and one elbow but with tylenol and ice, I continue to rejoice in cutting back the straggly azaleas. I saw a pile of fire ants yesterday and heaped OT curses upon them. I hope I didn't frighten the neighbors.

The new dishwasher will be here this afternoon and the installer will place it under the kitchen counter where I will load it to the gills and turn it on. The Casserole Family dishwasher gets a workout. I realized durning the mourning period for the old dishwasher (after it's death) that no one in this family knows how to wash a dish by hand. I'd like to nominate this as one of the signs that I do too much for them. Go ahead and report me to the Mother's League of Bad Moms. I know I deserve a public reprimand. I taught the LD to wash by hand. The LS did a good job under the tutelage of his sister and the LH merely passed by the full kitchen sink and rose above the situation.

I washed dishes almost every day. I can tolerate a full sink dirty dishes and with all my travels last week, I was pushed for time. I hoped others might want to try washing dishes but this was just another fantasy. Anyway, while washing dishes I recalled my grandfather's suggestion that we learn to enjoy the tasks we have to do. He's right and I've applied this wisdom to the many household jobs which I do each day or week which if I considered them intently would make me run out of the house screaming. Do about anything around me but do not bore me.

Housework is boring. I wait for the new dishwasher with a grateful heart and enough dishes to make the new dishwasher feel welcome.

Blessings to all of you today.

I remain,
St.Casserole

Brides, Cheese and Grooms

The LH and I went to our presbytery's annual pastor's retreat for the weekend. I tease by using the phrase "lovely husband" here in the blog but the retreat was full of preachers who introduced their wives by saying "my lovely bride." The freshest couple (as in years married) have three children so there were no "brides" present. It's just so durn cheesy to say "lovely bride." I introduced the LH as my "lovely groom" several times to the old guys just for fun. I did it dead pan and hooted inwardly.

I'm not all that fond of my colleagues in general but in particular they can be a refreshing treat. I had time to visit with some of my favorites and some of the spouses. The LH was the only man spouse attending. Hard to believe that I was the only clergywoman invited or attending. By the way, I was the first clergywoman from my denomination ordained in this state. The research has been done to verify this. I hope it gets me first seat on the plane to Chicago in November for our big celebration of the ordination of women.

The cheesy factor was high during the event. My favorites were the preacher and his "lovely bride" who wore matching shirts and pants for the weekend. Other cheesy moments included the use of sports examples to explain the ministry to us by our charming old speaker; singing antique praise music from twenty years ago and hearing some of the war stories of the old pros.

I can handle cheese. Cheese is a combination of a desire to be personable and inclusive with an out of it, really really uncool world view. Hey! I can do that!

After working out the logistics of leaving the children home and attended appropriately, I was happy to get out of town and have a break from leading Sunday Worship. The LH liked the change of atmosphere from his colleagues and usual Saturday chores. It was fun.

I like it that we have these weekends which are, invariably, advertised with the word "mandatory attendance" and I wish we'd enforce attendance. Some preachers missed because of scheduled weddings, unscheduled funerals and lack of money from their congregations to attend.

God bless all of us who are in the ministry. God lead us to find a time to rest and renew. And, thank you, God, for our "lovely brides" (and "grooms") Amen.

Goodbye to All this Empire

Oh rats! The LH gave me yesterday's stack of mail this morning. I wasn't home until last night and flopped on the sofa as soon as I returned so I hadn't see the mail. I got a notice from a NY state attorney that "St. Casserole" is a copywrited name of a client in Italy and that I must desist using the name for this blog. There goes my empire of t-shirts, coffee mugs and tote bags, too. I hadn't even gotten around to learning how to load pictures or even a favorites list. I have some readers I would hate to lose.

The LH and I do not know any NY state attorneys to contact to help us nor do we want to spend money on fighting what seems to us to be a silly case. Why would I be confused with an Italian St. Casserole? I know 20 words in Italian, not enough to write one blog entry. I don't want to anger the other St.C so I won't say more.

I'll have to change my blog name. Do you have any suggestions? St. Fried Chicken does not work nor does St. June Cleaver or even, St. Backwater. Help me out here. I have until the 3rd to make a new blog.

Rats. Double Rats.

The Bees

I love our home. It's a comfortable house for our family. We bought it years ago and have done many repairs, replacements and so on. I'd like to have a month where we do not have some kind of repair bill. I'm facing a new dishwasher soon, etc.

I've never lived in a new home. I grew up in a house built in the '20s and have lived in a succession of dorms, apartments and homes built long before I thought of them.

Our home has a history, of course. The neighbors remember the family who built the home in the 60's and the family who re-modeled it 20 something years ago. In that re-do, the family added a greenhouse which in it's day was quite the thing. The greenhouse is standing but is a shadow of it's former glory. It's a big building with a gravel floor in the greenhouse part, cement slab in the tool/lawnmower section and an additional cement floor for further storage. I'm not saying it's a British conservatory although it is a well thought out building. The greenhouse portion has slat tables for potting, a heater for the winter, fan for the summer, water hoses, etc.
Even has a phone connection from the days when a previous owner taped his spouse to see if she was whooping it up outside of marriage. (The rumors of her infidelity blew around town and have stayed in the provincial imagination after all these years with an old lady asking me if it was true that we had a mirrored ceiling in our bedroom. Nope.)

The greenhouse is on it's last legs. During the last big Blow, part of the roof sailed away. The doors were removed last Spring for some reason never explained to me by my LH and lovely children. Rather than being a pleasant place to pot plants, the greenhouse has turned into the dump for those things we keep for no reason and those we may need in the future. I am thinking of the load of french doors buried under broken yard furniture which we salvaged for some reason. Even though we unloaded a majority of stuff from the greenhouse when we had a chance last Spring, the space has filled up again. I wonder if junk walks in there at night when no one sees it.

As Spring comes to the Backwater and our piece of God's Good Earth, the carpenter bees arrive. These are big fat black bees who travel in pair and look like floating mini tootsie rolls. Their reason for living is to bore holes in untreated/unpainted wood while dripping a yellowish pollen and lots of wood dust. I love watching them. They bore round holes then bore at an angle, hibernate/reproduce then come back when the weather is warm. I see them in the Spring and Fall only. I've read that they do not sting but haven't messed with them to find out. Their buzzing is loud which makes me think they don't want me standing close enough to see if they bore at an angle.

Their temporary business then absence is a good sermon illustration. So is their ability to bore what looks like a perfect hole. It's amazing to me that God created such a thing as carpenter bees. I spend a good bit of time thinking about how bees and all other living things live together and how we share the same Creator. If I did not see the bees, I wouldn't know they exist. I wonder what I am missing of God's plan and involvement because I do not see.

I cannot wax eloquent about roaches, fleas, flying cockroaches, fire ants, gnats and mosquitoes. I'm not sure I would have made these creatures. It's beyond me to know the mind and purpose of God.

What's going on with you?

A Beautiful Day for Golf

The children were home today for Spring Break. Spring Break this year means Good Friday and Easter Monday vacation days. That's all! I'd enjoy having them home more. We ran errands together to finish projects, they slept late after staying up late. LD had friends over for spend-the-nights (called "sleepovers" in other areas).

This afternoon, the LH left the office a tad early and we went to play nine holes of golf. When I say "we" I mean he and I played. We left the children at home. The weather was too beautiful: bright clear blue sky and cool but not cold or chilly. I drove the golf cart (similar to being allowed to use the tv remote). I watched the LH play because I decided after two hours of early morning azalea pruning this morning that I was too sore to swing a club for nine holes. I drank Diet Coke and watched LH swing and snort. The best snort was when he whopped a chain link fence and lesser snorts erupted the three times he lost balls in the water hazards. I can laugh because he is a much better player than I am. I really play at golf rather than play golf. I'm so bad that no one wants to play with me unless they are stuck with me.

Being inept at golf is a good thing. All of us need something we don't do well but enjoy on our life lists. I love the idea of golf, the history, the accessories, the clubs! All of it! I like swinging a club and making a whack sound when I hit well. I like putting. But, I'm rotten. I'm not being humble. I am a rotten golfer. Happy but rotten.

What do you enjoy but don't do well?

Christ is Risen!

Up early because Andy the Cat's paw is healing. He felt well enough to jump on our bed then tickle our faces with happy whiskers. Even Old Man Cat is perky this morning!

Who wouldn't be perky and have happy whiskers on this wonderful day?

Christ is Risen! The tomb is empty! The strife is over, the battle won!

Yahooooooooooo!~

Holy Saturday

Holy Saturday reminds me of a cake our grandmother made. She used salt in the scratch cake batter instead of sugar, iced the cake and served it. When the mistake was discovered, at first bite, she broke into tears at the dinner table. All of us children just looked at her but our mother, realizing the mistake and knowing the growing frailty of her mother went to comfort her. All the effort of making a coconut cake for the meal came to nothing. Inedible, repugnant, a mistake offered as a treat but not even worthy of being thrown out for the birds and squirrels. A cake of no-use.

Today is like that. Nothing ventured will be gained as the Light is out. With no Light, it’s all for naught. Today may look like a day but it isn’t a Day. We’ll move through whatever weather we have as though in a deep fog of no-light. You may be able to see your hand in front of your face in this light but what’s the point?

You and I know that tomorrow will come. We know the end of the Story but today we see fitfully because we realize that without the Light we have made for ourselves a pretty cake with salt.

Wade through today as you can. Think about what your life is like in this darkness before the Third Day. Remember your days of baking with salt. Look around to see how the world, like we children at the table, don’t know what is going on but know something is wrong.

Maundy Thursday Evening Service

Where did I read that equity is assumed by those who take the sacrament of the Lord's Supper?

I can't find it in the B of O or Book of Common Worship. Drives me nuts when I cannot find what I've read. I'll bet this bothers you, too.

I'm thinking about the practice in churches of serving the Lord's Supper to the congregation then asking the congregation to hold the elements (bread and cup) until everyone is served before eating and drinking.

We did this tonight at the LH's church. I began to think about this practice which is not in the Book of Order/Directory of Worship nor is it in the Book of Common Worship. I suppose it started so that in a large congregation when serving the sacrament takes several minutes the people can wait, then take it simultaneously to feel close with one another. Nothing wrong with that. Rather Southern when you think about it, because you are 'sposed to wait until everyone has been served to begin eating (especially you wait for the Mama to raise her fork before you "dig in.")

However, if equity before God at God's Table is assumed, then waiting until all are served makes no particular sense. We ARE God's people and we are TOGETHER in worship taking the sacrament. The Lord's Supper isn't just a personal moment, it's a corporate Body of Christ moment. The holding the sacrament until all are served then seems awkward and fussy.

By the way, sitting in a lavish sanctuary with a trained choir, wonderful pipe organ, great organist and a woodwind ensemble and a gorgeous Communion set gave me a glimpse into how some "country" churches get in a snit about city churches being too fancy. My congregation worships in a very plain Calvinist sanctuary. We have little or no adornment. Adding candlesticks to the worship space was considered a tad too "high church" when I suggested it but I think we are all at peace with candlesticks now. I'm giggling because I must have some bloggy readers who are hooting at the goofiness of church folk. Ok. Ok. We have the little battles with one another over mostly nothing because we all seem to think we are doing church the right way.

Tonight I looked around me and felt a shiver of "whoa! this is so visually stimulating that I am being distracted." And I grew up in a downtown East Coast sanctuary with a killer pipe organ, paid choir members, carvings, Louis C. Tiffany windows, and beautiful plaques and accroutements. Now I serve in country plain and see the simple beauty of this. Both types of spaces honor God.

I loved the hymns, readings and prayers tonight. I loved sitting between my LD and LH and being able to reach out to hold their hands during worship. What a treat to sit in a pew!

Collared but not Collards (too early in the season for Southern Greens)

Every month I pray a meal blessing for a women's civic organization as the chaplain. I'm the first ordained person to hold this position for the group. I'd crow about this but let's be truthful:
clergywomen are sparse here and if any other clergy gal was asked, she'd be too busy.

I attend this group to visit with friends I don't see ordinarily.

In the interest of unbiased reporting I must admit that this group is one of the last places where I am a "younger" member. No further comment.

I wore my clerical collar yesterday because it's Holy Week and I'm busy. This was the first time I'd appeared at this luncheon in my uniform.

One woman told me that if she ever married again, she'd want me to do the service.
Another told me I needed to have my portrait done wearing the collar.
A third woman told me I looked beautiful.

My dress is rather plain most of the time. I'm not fashionable or drab most days but I'm no stunner.

I think I surprised the women by looking like what I am and what I do. Perhaps they don't think of me as clergy because they see me running around with my children, hugging my husband and hot-footing it through the grocery store. I doubt they see clergy women often. I can think of only one other woman down here who wears a collar.

It's taken me several years to get comfortable with collar wearing. At first, years ago, I'd find myself being called "Mother" by strangers and would forget to respond unless they were in my face. I can operate under the clergy radar scanner when I'm not "collared" and I can understand the strengths of stealth ministry. I can get into conversations with people without the initial "oh! you are a preacher!" paragraph.

But, still and all, I am clergy. I am a preacher. I do pastor a congregation. I am a public prayer.
Wearing the collar opens up conversations that I wouldn't have most days. I ran through the High School office yesterday to do an errand for the LS and was stopped by two kids and one staff member to talk. Without the collar I would be just another invisible Mom.

It's Maundy Thursday. We go to worship tonight at the LH's church. I'm looking forward to sitting in the pew with my family.

Pruning Joy

So what if I have the internet access of an 18th c. woman? Why should I care? My writing program has disappeared as have all of my favorite sites for religious info, blog buddies and how can I do a bulletin if I can't publish? So what?

I am in the midst of Holy Week and the brief days of bug-free gardening. Holy Week takes care of itself but being able to work outside in our yard without gnats, mosquitoes, hornets, wasps, yellow jackets and fire ants is bliss. Pure bliss.

I've attacked pruning the shubbery with a maniacal vengenance. I have the proper pruning tools this year----brand new ones! Tools not forgotten by other family members in the bushes, drive way and left out in the rain. Fresh sharp blades to cut, shape and spurn growth. Mountains of yard debris mounts by my street waiting for the City to pick up. I saw a mountain leave today when the truck came by. Hours later, another mountain of my great bliss sat ready to be carted off. I am very happy.

Every muscle in my winter body is sore from the effort. Who cares? I don't. This is my time of year to spend hours working, plotting and planning my yard. No bugs. No heat. Not much is better than this. I have only a few more days as I'll be working on presbytery stuff most days next week indoors.

Young Andy the Cat loves having me outside swinging branches into a mess for him to throw himself into. He climbs the trees I prune, falls from the branches and acts as though he meant to look ridiculous. I love that about cats. They never let you see them embarrassed.

I don't have time to blog. There's no way for me to back up my posts so they are often lost when my computer collapses. I can count on the yard work, this effort may or may not appear here.

Have a good Holy Week, y'all. I'm giving Easter gifts this year to everyone who slows down enough to receive one. Seems to me that Easter's message presents a greater message of Gift than does Christmas. See you the next time I can sign on.

Palm Sunday

Before driving to my church this morning I'll cut palm fronds to take. I'm not sure the big plant is actually a palm but it's probably in the palm family and will have to do.

The church doesn't have a Maundy Thursday service, nor does it have Holy Week services. How strange to go from Palm Sunday and the triumphant entry of Jesus on a donkey to the resurrection. I've not been there long enough to make the parishoners long for Holy Week.

I've placed the solemn reproaches of the Cross to the service but unless I do a good job explaining the presence of these prayers, I'll be the only one who gets the move from happy donkey riding to the murder. And, how happy was that donkey ride for the One who knew what was coming?

Blessings to each of you who read this. The computer guy hasn't shown up but returned one phone call which resulted in instructions that didn't work. Sorry that my postings have been slow. I miss seeing your blogs and leaving comments for you, too.

Mall and Ministry

I was useless today. Not productive. No errands run or chores completed by me. I’ve been known to value myself based on how much I accomplish. Not today. I was a slug.

I had my hair cut. I snuggled with the Old Man Cat. I went to the Mall.

I did learn a lesson today. While at the Mall, I asked a sales clerk where to find X. She didn’t know, didn’t try to find it. I smiled and walked away. At the next department, I asked a sales clerk for help finding a window valance. She said to look in the comforter and bedspreads. Ok. That was some direction for the search. I asked the third sales clerk where the "really good bargains were" and she said with a toss of her head, "Back there." Ok. I began my search for the best bargain in the department.

The window valances were not with the comforters and bedspreads. I found them in other places. I found X by myself and on sale. The "really good bargains" were in the back but when I brought them to the cashier area I was ignored by the two salesclerks standing within five feet of me who were chatting. I lost interest in one item and put it back. I bought the other item but the salesclerk was indifferent.

Granted that retail jobs at large department stores at the Mall aren’t the brain-snapping, pulse-pounding, intellectually stimulating pleasures of the Age. I know this. However, I do think that if you work in sales it makes sense to know your stock and sell it. Move that stuff out the door!
Thinking about this as I drove home in the crawling traffic of life here in the Backwater, I began to think of my experiences at the department store and it’s similarities to ministry.

For example, how often do I give directions to seekers in the most off-handed manner that does not invite further questions from them? How often do I blow off interest in the church by assuming things that may not fit the situation? Do I seem indifferent to those who approach me?
Do I know my "stock" so that I can answer questions about it? Can I move people INTO the doors of a church?

I dunno.

May God forgive me if I am indifferent to others. Forgive me when I am arrogant and withholding of myself in the face of need and questions about God. May I be approachable, please. Help me to be available to those who are searching. Amen.

I suppose it makes sense to have computer access problems during Lent. If we are to recall/relearn our dependence on God for these forty days, not being able to use the computer makes sense. We bought one of the first Mac’s in about 1983 for several thousand dollars. I doubt either of us has gone more than 24 hours without some computer contact (not counting out of the country trips or illness). The LH has wireless throughout the house so he can use his laptop while cutting the grass or sitting on the toilet. I have this computer in my study and sit here in a comfy chair staring at this screen for several hours a day. I don’t even criticize myself for how much time I may be wasting each day.

Lent is about giving up what we think makes us safe so that we recall Who is our safety, really.
Putting aside the comforts we don’t even notice to learn once more for a good look at our values.
I sure value computer access. Most of my news reading comes from the internet. Local TV news and our dreadful Backwater Gazette aren’t enough for me. Local news is distracting as we have the whitest white woman on the planet as an anchorwoman. I can hardly hear past her looks. It doesn’t help that in person she is not the brightest light in the box and that I know where she goes to get her lip and brows waxed. I may be pale but I don’t have yellow blonde hair and raccoon make-up eyes. It appears that her greatest talent is reading a tele-prompter and smiling with every tooth showing.

The Backwater Gazette is all filler from other newspapers and ads. I do like the ads. Today is grocery ad day and I look forward to seeing who has the best 12 pack prices on Diet Coke.
Lent? Oh. I got distracted.

Distraction is exactly what we hope a "good" Lent addresses. Pay attention. Focus. Be quiet.
Think.

I can focus like a pit bull when studying or listening to a lecture. Or while reading. Give me a good book and the world can blow up without my notice. Screams! Flames! What? I’m reading. Didn’t notice.

But, Lord Have Mercy, I can be distracted a zillion times while going through my day. Pay attention to what distracts, listen more closely to what is being said, honor the day by looking and considering one’s place in the world. Ok. Ok.

As I am dependent on God for each breath, I am dependent on Ray the Computer Guy Who Does Not Return Phone Calls for Jesus Or Any One Else. Until I hear from Ray, I’m in trouble on the tech front. The LH has many talents with the computer but even he is bumfuzzled about the problem.

I hope to hear from Ray. I hope to hear from God. I hope to hear from you.

Mother Daughter Stuff

Computer probs continue at our home.

The St. Paddy’s day parade goes right by the LH’s office. The parking lot in front attracts the drunks at the bar across the street like magnets. An off-duty police officer helps keep cars out of the office lot and discourages drunks from toddling over to use the bushes. Just a note to let you know I live in the real world.

Further evidence of real world problems in the Casserole Family bloomed up yesterday when the LD was called by a friend’s mom who found LD’s cell phone number among her daughter’s things. While I was napping, our LD called every kid she knows at the school to help this mom find her daughter who’d not come home Friday night. LD even spoke to the police about where to look for the daughter because the mom was too upset to talk. The missing daughter, another girl and two boys (of course!)were found and returned to their homes. The mom called today to tell me how much LD helped and how much she appreciated our daughter.

Two days ago, I had a Mother-Daughter chat with LD about knowing when to help at school with her classmates’ problems and when to stay out of it. LD knows everyone, knows everyone’s social connections and is rather remarkable with these skills. Unfortunately, school personnel teach the children to keep out of fights, arguments and etc. when they are not the primaries. LD sees all interactions as her business (where did she get this idea???) so she involves herself. Not good at her age according to the school.
LD’s skills with people will be great for her when she’s an adult but now she keeps getting into trouble. So, we had our Mother -Daughter Summit on the issue two days ago.

This afternoon, when LD returns with LH from policing the office, I hug her and tell her about the phone call from the grateful mom. I tell LD thank you for helping the family and getting that girl home safely. Thank you for making all those phone calls, I say. I know it’s confusing to know when to intercede and when to stay out of it. You did very well here, girlie.

I’ll try to blog more this week. Hope all is well with you and that you are ready for tomorrow.

Communion

Computer probs plague our household this week.

I drove to church on Sunday not sure what to expect. It’s not that I know what to expect any Sunday because I never do. General expectations may come to mind but the "what will happen today" expectations are unknown. I knew we were celebrating the Lord’s Supper but I was unsure if the Altar Guild of One remembered so I stopped to get po-boy bread and a four pack of tiny Welch’s cans.

I’ve prepared the sacrament once for a congregation. Churches are so good at having things ready that I’ve fixed the cups and trays one time. Sunday I was unsure about the planning so I carried my own supplies as well as my lil’ communion kit. The kit is a small black case with a plastic bottle for grape juice and box for bread along with disposable cups and a little plate. I hoped to take the sacrament to a family of shut-ins.
Earlier in the week I read again the communion information from our Directory of Worship. Bread for the sacrament may be what is appropriate locally. If wine is served then grape juice should be provided so that people have a choice. Disposal of the elements after the sacrament is to be respectful and what the Session agrees upon. Order of service for the sacrament is outlined with scripture cites. The D of W has a great deal more information about the sacrament.

The drive to church showed more signs of spring with wild trees blooming, fields becoming green and the roadside weeds blooming. It is the loveliest of drives. Hardly any traffic on an early Sunday morning so one can browse the fields and pastures to see cattle, sheep and goats along with fields of green. The road follows a canopy of trees for several miles so that the light and shadows in early morning are so beautiful.

I arrived to find the Lord’s Supper ready. Beautifully ready. The Altar Guild uses real linen cloths ironed to perfection. Fresh flowers from her yard were arranged in a vase for the pedestal.

I wish that I’d been ready. I was the hold up. My sermon was the pits. I have been muddled for the past couple of weeks and that muddling has affected my sermons. Proof of this was shown in the congregation’s faces and in my own regret on the drive back home. What’s the problem? The Gospel texts have been very long for the past weeks. Verses and verses and verses. I’ve had two Sundays of doing more teaching than preaching. Ask me later what the difference is. I studied the texts to make sure I understood, as best I could, what was going on and then couldn’t seem to condense my thoughts or focus on one verse or another. Just all of the verses which makes for poor preaching when long texts are used. I’m not a verse by verse preacher because I’m not a verse by verse hearer. The tale of the whole interests me, not piece by piece.

I’m facing another long Gospel text for Sunday. The story of Lazarus in John 11:1-45. I am considering using v.35 " Jesus began to weep"(NRSV) as my focal point but it’s Wednesday morning and the process/study/exegesis is not finished enough to know yet.

Focus, Rev. Mrs. Casserole. Focus!

Jaye over at Winding Road in an Urban Area (http://windingroad.typepad.com/columns/) has an entry about her rules. She asks for our rules. Here are mine:

I’m a Christian and I believe it is difficult to follow Jesus. I’m not easy with unconditional acceptance, mysterious grace and hope for the future but I believe in Jesus.

I believe all politics are local and relate to territory. Everything is political if you think about it.

I believe that the insurance industry is the bad guy in the tort reform thing and that if lawyers had a better lobbying group the public might understand the truth about insurance.

Preaching is an odd form of communication. Writing a sermon is difficult work every week.

I believe that most clergy are so serious that I must buck the trend and tell you my REAL rules which are as follows:

I believe that open toed high heel shoes are unattractive unless the shoes are really Manalo Blahniks which I do not own.

I believe that white shoes are unattractive unless you are wearing them as part of a required uniform.
I believe that no white shoes, except as a uniform, or white purses or belts should be worn before Easter or after Memorial Day.

I believe that solid colors are better than patterns and that sweaters with appliques of ducks, school buses and animals make you look old.

I believe in good skin care, quality foundation make-up and good mascara. I believe that Lancome has the best mascara. I have researched this.

I believe in having friends over to dinner and serving something good but not complex. I believe that the friends care more about the fellowship than they do about the cleanliness of our home.

I believe that sterling flatware, good china and your Waterford crystal should be used daily or at least weekly. I believe in cloth napkins for environmental and graciousness reasons.

I believe that if people can misunderstand you, they will but that most people are more accepting and generous than we expect them to be.

I believe that Swiffer dusters, Mr. Clean white spongey things and Cetaphil facial cleanser are three products that really do what they were created to do.

I believe that you should not have too much decorative stuff on the front of your home or in your front yard no matter what Curb Appeal suggests. More power to you if you have a cement rabbit statue by your kitchen door.

I believe that material possessions are much more valuable and entertaining if purchased on from an estate or garage or rummage sale.

New shoes scuff if purchased at full retail. Shoes on sale neither scuff nor stain for the first year of wearing.
Wearing jewelry is good. Having purses you like is good. Shoes are wonderful and uplift one’s spirits if you have the money. Perhaps a shoe fund should be started.

A good hair cut and "conditioning" (note: we do not color our hair, we ‘condition’ it.) is a good use of one’s funds.

A Kitchen Aide mixer is a great investment, does what is supposed to do, and lasts endlessly.

I believe that a good woman friend is a great blessing and that many women friends are an even greater joy.

Never play poker with a man named "Doc."

Don’t buy anything you can’t afford. Pay cash whenever you can.

A loving marriage is one of the great benefits of adulthood.

I’m glad Martha is out of prison. Her punishment doesn’t make sense to me. I read the charges against her and cannot believe that she, a former stockbroker, would risk her livelihood for a transaction about 50K. Doesn’t make sense to me.

I’m bothered when smart women are targeted. I realize that justice is relative rather than conclusive but when smart women are punished more harshly than their white male counterparts I get suspicious.
In the same way, I don’t understand the hostility towards Hillary R. Clinton. What has she done deserve hate? When she was First Lady and worked on health care issues it was a public service gesture. What’s wrong with that? She used her abilities to try to solve a great U.S. misery which, to this day, troubles all Americans. Our health care system is the pits.

Did I care if Sen. Clinton changed her hairstyle? Nope. Did it bother me that she has a brain in her head and spoke out? Nope. Do I care if she obtained residency in NY and ran for the Senate? Nope.

I do feel sorry for her having to cope with an unfaithful spouse. It’s even worse that all of us know about it. I’m glad she’s out and about rather than home in a dark room in a dirty bathrobe drinking bad scotch.

I’m not scared of strong gals. Why would anyone be? I’m scared of mean gals and mean men. I’m scared of people with no boundaries. I’m scared of greedy, power hungry people. I’m scared of sociopaths.

Afraid of strong women? Not me. I’m glad strong women are out there so our daughters can see assertiveness. Note to Universe: teach girls to be assertive; teach boys to be gentle because the culture doesn’t teach this to children.

I hope Martha has a good friend with whom she can vent her anger. Maybe we should all send her new cuss words to assist her. Like "hot jumping rats tails!" or " Blizzard Bunching Pustules." Some mean words to help her get the anger out. I’d be mad as fire.

Thanks to all of you who commented on my post on forgiveness.

I found Smede's book on forgiveness at the Salvation Army thrift shop.

Forgiving others is a problem for many people, maybe it's a problem for all people. I am touched that you responded to my post. I woke up in the night worrying that I shouldn't have posted my thoughts. As time passed, I realized that I need to hear what you all had to say.

People Who Are Called to Lead

"The people who are called to lead are almost always the wrong people. It is almost as if God goes out of God's way to pick those who, at least on the face of it, have no virtues or qualities that suggest that they would be good leaders. I'm thinking of Jacob, Sarah, Mary, Peter and Paul here, as well as of Moses. Perhaps God likes a challenge. Maybe a Creator who makes something out of nothing considers vocation a continuing aspect of creation. Any God who could make a man like Moses into a wonderful leader must be some God."

William H. Willimon, in the April 24-May1, 2002 Christian Century