Posts Categorized: Goodness

Remember When You Had to BUY Film?

February 7th, 2019 | Goodness, Love, Patience

Several months ago, I was helping our church Children’s Minister clean up and straighten out our Resource Room. Over weeks and months, the place can move from highly-well organized to disastrously disorganized. One problem is that folks, well-meaning folks, clean out their storage spaces and think to themselves, “I don’t want this junk any more. Maybe people could use it in Bible School (or some other event that might be ‘crafty’.”) Very often, we could not use those donations. But, I must admit, once a family that was cleaning out before moving out of state, brought a box of rolls of wide, colored and patterned packing tape. It was great! I sorry when the last roll got used up. Some of the stuff is usable. Some is not. But most of it gets left in the Resource Room and/or put on the storage shelves in there. And it sits there, waiting to be used, sometimes for years.

And some stuff gets stored on the topmost shelves, where it gets forgotten about, and never used. For example, there was, on a topmost shelf, a large plastic box (the kind that is usually used for underbed storage) filled with film canisters. Mostly black plastic ones, with snap-on lids. And, truly, a few metal ones, with the screw-top lids. Years ago, there were activities and suggestions in the Sunday School and Vacation Bible School curriculum books for using film canisters. Musical shakers, dippers for water play, making paint prints, even putting substances with strong scents (like peanut butter and lemon juice and vanilla) for preschoolers to identify. As use of film as waned, those sorts of activity suggestions has greatly demenished. We kept a couple dozen of them, just in case. And we put the rest of them in the recycle bin.

I did keep one of the metal canisters, remembering when my dad got his first 35mm SLR camera, and those metal film canisters. And, I remember when he upgraded and handed down his other camera to me. By then, I was purchasing film in those black plastic containers. A bit of nostalgia. A few years later, I got a digital camera. Then, I got a phone.

I love being able to take photos with my phone. It’s easy. It’s almost always with me. It is, usually, charged up enough to take photos. And videos! And occasionally, I send photos to Walgreen’s to make prints. But I’m most grateful that I can take forty photos of an event, look through them all, choose the two or three I want to keep, and delete the rest. And maybe make one or two into prints. It just seems so much more efficient.

I can take photos of all sorts of things–silly, interesting, useless, remarkable, and meaningful (maybe, depends on who’s doing the viewing).

: The instructions say “Press Here and Pull Back.” Press with what!?! A large Phillip’s head screwdriver? I hacked at these boxes of barley with a knife! Finally I used the knife to pry open the lids.

: Usually coupons for two products have some sort of common use. Like “buy a loaf of bread and get free peanut butter.” Or, “purchase hot dogs and get free hot dog buns.” That sort of thing. I just don’t get the sense of buying Velveeta cheese product and getting free Cool Whip. If I’m going to make cheese toast, will I be wanting to top it with Cool Whip?

: This one stopped my in my next-to-the-freezer-section tracks. I’d never heard the term “Dough Puck.” It’s pie dough, for rolling out to make a pie crust.

: I think it’s interesting the way that non-English speakers translate instructions into English. Thankfully, I don’t know enough of any other language to ever be asked to create a sensible translation. Well, maybe Pig-Latin, but I don’t suppose there’s a particularly great need for that.

: The Walgreens photo lab is inundated by photos, photocards, and enlargements at Christmastime.

: I have stared at this picture of my car and my cart and my purse and, evidently, my purchases. I don’t know why I took it.

: I took this shot in the block next to mine. I love the morning shadow of the bare tree on the brick wall.

: I took this last week. The temperature IN MY FREEZER was just one degree colder . . .

: than it was in New York, when Jeremy and Sarah were going to work.

: As I was walking out the door to grocery shop, I snapped this to remind me that I’m almost out of salad dressing. . .

: and this one of the grocery store ad.

: This is one of the grocery store’s gas pumps. I was having my sons pump gas for me long before they were 16. This must be a new law.

: I took this recently, really irritated and thinking, “Aren’t we better than this these days?”

: And here’s the manufacturer’s address, so I can write.

: The “Wonder” Motto for two preschool boys and a preschool girl, on a Sunday morning: *Give me blocks and tell me I have good ideas and can think and plan and work together with other kids. Remind me that I can try out things and figure out what works, and what doesn’t work, and how to fix it.* (They used every single block from the shelves, and, when it was time to put things away, they put each and every block back on the shelves.)

Every time I think of you, I thank my God. And whenever I mention you in my prayers, it makes me happy.

Philippians 1:3,4 (Contemporary English Version)

And it’s quite special, if I have a photo, too.

Brrrrr

November 15th, 2018 | Goodness, Patience

We’ve had some weather. Of course, there’s always weather, it’s just a little more interesting at this time of year, as opposed to June-September here in Central Texas, when it’s nasty hot and consistent. I looked up “talking about the weather” and, of the three or four articles I read, my favorite one came from an Australian publication. Instead of labeling “weather conversation” as boring and tedious, the author says it’s a nice way to start a conversation with a stranger, particularly when riding up and/or down an elevator. At worst, you might get a grunt or a nod, at best, you might find a new friend.

Early this past week, the temperature was 26 degrees. Yes, 26. We don’t really know how to do 26. We don’t have the clothing for 26. We can keep piling on layers, but that just makes it difficult to move around, bend our arms, and that sort of thing.

When I checked the weather elsewhere, I saw that in Brooklyn, Jeremy and Sarah were enjoying temps of 46. Yes, in Brooklyn, New York, the air was twenty degrees warmer than here in Waco, Texas.

Things are back to more normal here. It’s warmed up, and the forecast says highs next week in the 50’s and 60’s, which is much more comfortable. And normal.

My dad grew up in Wauseon, Ohio, way up in the northeast corner of the state, almost all the way to Michigan. There was snow on the ground all winter, and the ice pond next to his house froze solid. They had ice skates and played hockey there.

One summer, when we’d gone up to visit, I was trying to explain the weather differences to my cousins. “Well, for example,” they said. “What do you wear on Thanksgiving day?”

“Slacks and a sweater,” I said.

“That’s what we wear,” they exclaimed, imagining, I think, that the temperatures weren’t all that different.

“Outside?” I asked.

Their faces changed. “Well, no,” they said.

Well, of course not! There was snow on the ground!

The only wool garment I own is a big ol’ navy pea coat. I’ve had it for years, and it’s large enough to fit over the several layers of clothes that I’m likely to be wearing whenever the temperature drops. I’ve had it on twice in the past few days. I might not need it again at all this winter.

I checked the weather forecast for Wauseon. Friday and Saturday there might be some precipitation, and the temperatures in the 20’s. But, on Thanksgiving Day, the high could be 41. And 44 on Friday. They might go out and play a few games of tennis.

Our forecast for Thanksgiving Day is a high of 62. But it might rain.

To those who send him, a trustworthy envoy is like the coolness of snow on a harvest day; he refreshes the life of his masters

Proverbs 25:13 (Christian Standard Bible)

I certainly understand how welcome an unexpected snowfall would be on a hot, harvest day. And, I’d like to be the kind of trustworthy envoy, or friend, or family member, who brings that sort of refreshment. Maybe while wearing my nice, wool coat.

I Haven’t Counted Them and I’m Not Going To

September 27th, 2018 | Faithfulness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience

I mentioned before that David’s mother passed away in July. In the weeks and months before that, David and his five siblings began to decide how to divvy up a big household’s worth of belongings. There was furniture and dishes and silverware and books and jewelry and clothes and a big assortment of all sorts of stuff. There were things that several folks wanted and things that NO ONE wanted.

David went back again a couple of weeks ago. He brought home his parents’ college yearbooks and some documents and photographs. He packed up a nice sewing machine that his aunt in Memphis thought would be nice to have. He left it at her house on his way back home. And, he brought home some yarn.

A couple of David’s sisters, who live in the area, worked (and worked and worked and worked) to organize the house’s material goods. There were a lot of bags of clothing that went to helping agencies in the area. They bagged up pieces of jewelry that no one had already asked for (each sibling is supposed to take a bag, to dispose of how they wish). And they bagged up some yarn.

If you don’t participate in the yarn-based arts (knitting, crocheting, weaving), then you don’t quite understand what yarn workers are like. And what yarn workers do like. We like yarn. We might purchase some yarn that is perfect for a new project. We also might purchase some yarn that we just like, even though we don’t necessarily know what we might use it for. Or when we might use it. Some of you might suggest that we could have an obsession with yarn. We do not plan to pay attention to you.

David didn’t want very much from his parents’ house. We have a house with plenty of furniture. We have dishes and pots and pans and lamps. I don’t wear much jewelry (David did bring home the required bag of jewelry, and I have offered it up to some friends. Some of it is going to church for the preschoolers to pretend with.) I did bring home, when we were there in July, a few small Corning Ware pans. I already had a couple and they’re pretty useful. Beyond that, we didn’t collect very much. But, before he left for his most recent trip, I said, “Bring yarn.”

My sisters-in-law said that they unearthed LOTS of yarn. I think there were 60 white trash bags full of yarn. Seriously.

I belong to a knitting/crocheting group that is very helping-oriented. They create items to make chemotherapy patients comfortable, they make shawls and lap afghans for people in nursing homes, they craft handmade hats for children in a low-income child development center in town, they knit and crochet items for homeless folks. These are yarn workers on a mission.

So, I said, “Bring yarn.” He was able to pile 20 bags in the car. Here’s what 20 bags of yarn looks like:

: Yarn in my office

: Yarn in the living room

Actually, there’s quite a bit missing. I invited a yarn-desirous friend over a few days ago. She carefully went through several bags and took a couple of bags’ worth home. I’m pretty confident that I’ll be able to find loving homes for all the skeins. It may take a few weeks; there’s a limit to how much I can transport to the knitting/crocheting folks at a time.

Some of the yarn won’t really work well for places where the hats, shawls, etc. will need to be machine washed and dried. My mother-in-law purchased some really nice, quality yarns, like wools and cottons whose care tags read: “hand wash and lie flat to dry.” But, I think there will be enough to go around for whomever and whatever and however. I might even keep some for myself.

She opens her hand to the poor,
and reaches out her hands to the needy.

Proverbs 31:20 (New Revised Standard Version)

Not all the members of my yarn group are “shes.” But they are all pretty much on board with that helping and reaching out business.

It’s Time to Get Ready for Spring!

September 13th, 2018 | Goodness, Patience

I know. It seems ridiculous, doesn’t it. Summer’s not done with us yet; the temperature is supposed to be back into the 90’s later in the week. Meanwhile …

Many years ago, thirty or so, I think, my Dad planted some iris rhizomes in a bed at the back of the house. I remember them blooming. And, when we moved in, in the fall twelve years ago, they were still there. They came up, mightily, with the bed filled to the brim with leaves. And, a few flowers bloomed. Each year, fewer and fewer flowers appeared, even though leaves came up, as strong and plentiful as ever. It seemed like it might be time to make a change.

Fall is the planting time for those sorts of plants, and I thought I should get those old rhizomes out of the ground and make a new plan. One day a couple of weeks ago, when there were some clouds, and when the sun had moved on to the front part of the house, I hosed down the dry, hard, dirt, waited for the water to soak in, and then put on my gardening gloves and got to work.

The job required about ten times the amount of hours that I thought would be required. I read once that a human adult’s intestinal track is between 25 and 28 feet long. It’s hard to imagine all that inside our abdominal cavity. I can imagine that, if I had shaved off the top three or four inches of dirt from the mass of ancient iris rhizomes in a flower bed 3 by 14 feet, I’d have seen, first hand, the unimaginable squash of ancient, worn-out, couldn’t-produce-a-flower-if-it-tried maze of rhizomes, and it might have resembled the squashed-up intestines in a human adult’s gut.

These things look to me like some sort of tentacled sea creature, from the deep, deep part of the ocean. (I also dug up lots of rocks.

As it was, I just started digging up the ground with a garden trowel. Those things were deeper than I had imagined. I rubbed a blister on my palm (and I was wearing gardening gloves). The next day, after putting two layers of Band-Aids on my palm, I got the garden fork, and started digging up the dirt a little more efficiently. Still, I spent lots of time pulling and tugging at the twists of rhizomes. The dirt is clay-like, heavy and sticky.

There were a couple of sets of healthy-looking iris leaves attached to some stronger-looking rhizomes. And, there were three or four round bulbs. I don’t know what they were, because nothing had bloomed in years. But, I took the iris leaves and the bulbs to the nursery for advice. I explained my situation to the nursery lady, describing how old the plants were and how nothing had bloomed in ages. I showed her what I had. She thought the round bulbs were some kind of lilies, and thought they might bloom. The iris rhizome with the leaves attached also looked salvageable. I showed her one of the tired, strange-looking things. “And what are these?” I asked. “Old, worn-out irises. They won’t bloom any more.”

I bought some compost to dig into the bed, to revitalize the dirt and help it not be so dense and sticky. I spread five bags-worth on the bed and dug it in. Well, as much as I’m able to dig. But, even after days and days of working in the bed, I still dug up a few more of those old, tired iris rhizomes.

: The last, I hope, of the thirty-or-so-year-old iris rhizomes.

: The few things that are going back into the bed.

: The bed’s all ready for some new tenants. I’m not sure what else I’m going to put in there. The green, growing stuff is sweet potato vine. Not a winter hardy plant.

: I cleaned off the tools. You can see that one of the garden fork’s tines has gotten bent. That’s how hard we worked.

God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction.

Psalm 23: 1-3 (The Message)

Meanwhile–

: So much rain has fallen in the past week that there are a few toadstools in the yard. We’ve had more than 3 times the average rainfall this month. But, we are still way behind on the yearly rainfall.

: Yes, those are pecan shells. The STILL GREEN pecan shells! Squirrels are not very smart. They pull a green nut from the tree, take a bite, and discover that it tastes HORRIBLE. So they throw it down to the ground. And pull off another one, to see if it’s any better. WHICH IT IS NOT!! (I’m not all that fond of the squirrels.)

Out With the Old, and the Older, and the Older, and the Even Older . . .

June 28th, 2018 | Goodness, Kindness, Patience

A while back, a few years, maybe longer than a few (I lose track), I bought a new ironing board cover. And, I bought a pretty one. For many, many, many years, I just got the regular, silver-ish, plain old ironing board covers. But the most recent time (however longish or shortish it was), I saw a lovely, red-with-flowers ironing board cover. I thought it would look nice in the room where I iron (and sometimes sew). It did. But, ironing board covers don’t last forever (at least they don’t if people keep ironing on them). A little hole developed in the middle of my pretty red ironing board cover. The more I ironed, the larger it got. I needed a new one.

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Traveling Time!

April 26th, 2018 | Goodness, Joy

We usually make the trip to East Tennessee to visit David’s mom in May. This year, because her 95th birthday was this week, we went in April, instead. There’s always lots of planning and packing and getting things in place (who’ll get the papers and mail, who’ll cover at church, should we run the water sprinklers, etc.)

This year, there was a special problem.

: This is a hanging shelf in our garage. The large protected items you see are Christmas wreaths.

: I’m sorry it’s so hard to see and figure out, but this is a nest of baby birds, starting their lives in between those two covered wreaths.

I heard them peeping, peeping when I came home from shopping and errands, the day before we left. I was panicky for them, thinking they would surely die while we were gone. David he’d seen the parents going in and out of the garage through a small space at the bottom of the closed garage doors. He thought they’d be gone before we returned. We haven’t checked, yet.

Spring happens later there than here.

: The Hosta plants at the North Carolina Welcome Center are always *huge* and impressive when I usually go, mid-May. In mid-April, they are just now popping up.

: And we were startled to see the difference that just a month makes in spring’s arrival. In May, all the trees are fully leafed out. Now, they are almost all bare, with the evergreens standing out.

David’s mom had surgery last November and has been living in a rehab facility since then. The birds that have usually relied on her careful tending with water and seed were somewhat scarce. David started putting seed out on her deck, and some birds returned, including the usual (or, unusual) springtime and summer guests, the peacock pair.

: The male peacock was having a terrifically challenging time staying upright in a gusty wind.

: He tried *very* hard to interest the peahen, but she was playing hard-to-get.

We did some more interesting things, but we just rolled back into Waco a few hours ago, and I need to go to bed.

At day’s end I’m ready for sound sleep,
For you, God, have put my life back together.

Psalm 4:8 (The Message)

Holidays and Traditions

March 22nd, 2018 | Goodness, Joy, Love, Peace

Many families have all sorts of traditions that aren’t at all related to holidays. “First tooth comes out” traditions, “You’ve got your Drivers’ License” traditions, “You got a great report card” traditions. We’re always looking for a reason to celebrate, aren’t we.

And some of our most entrenched and precious traditions are built around the faith-based seasons and days in our family. For us, Christmas is loaded with them, and Easter isn’t too far behind. Dying eggs, hiding eggs, and finding eggs. New clothes, new shoes. In girl families, there might be new purses to go with the new shoes, new jewelry to compliment the new clothes, new lipstick, new eye shadow, and, well, that’s what it was like in my family when I was growing up. However, I grew up and had a boy family, which might mean a new shirt.

But I grew up with the traditional complete new outfit for Easter. We got up on Easter morning, looked for the eggs hidden in the living room, ate some chocolate, pretended to eat some reasonable breakfast, put on our new clothes, and went off to church.

: First Easter, with a hat as large as my head.

: Almost 3, on the porch of our brand-new house. Hat size dimishing.

: Almost 4. Hat size still getting smaller. How many Easter baskets does one girl need!

: Me, JoAnne, and our cousin Bill. The first Easter in our *next* new house.

: The three of us the next Easter, and please do notice that, this year, I do NOT have to wear ankle socks with my Easter shoes.

: Two years later (me, Mother, and JoAnne), and I’m wearing my first pair of high heels.

: It was a joke in the spring, for several years, that we could certainly have our Easter picture taken with the blooming dogwood tree. Not in FRONT of the tree. Oh, please. We would have to stand BEHIND the tree.

: Or, below the tree.

And, in the next generation:

: Kevin at two, was enthralled with egg hunting. He would stalk around his granparents’ den, discover a lightly hidden egg, and shout “Aha!!”

: Jeremy, at four, was in some sort of snit, and was determined to not have any fun looking for hidden Easter eggs. In other words, “You can lead me to that purple egg in the plant, but you CANNOT make me find it!”

: April and Kevin will need to be in Fort Worth on Easter weekend, so Peter has come to us *this* weekend, for Easter celebrating. Here is his Easter basket, just waiting for interesting things to appear in it.

So, there should be some cookies baked, some eggs decorated, hidden, and found, there will be Worship in the Park on Sunday, and, possibly, at some point, a chocolate bunny will be involved.

This day belongs to the Lord!
Let’s celebrate
and be glad today

Psalm 118:24 (Contemporary English Version)

I’m glad to celebrate and be glad. Today, tomorrow, and all the other days.

Interesting Shopping at the Interesting Grocery Store

March 1st, 2018 | Goodness, Joy, Patience

A while back, I mentioned the good African Black soap that I bought at a nice grocery store in Fort Worth. I’m frustrated sometimes when stores carry a product for a while, and then, I guess when it’s not popular with lots of shoppers, they stop selling it. So I was disappointed and frustrated a few months ago, when I went to buy another bottle of that soap and couldn’t find it on the shelf where I had seen it last. I searched and searched.

There wasn’t any store employee there, but I finally saw it, way up on the top shelf, right there where that empty space is. I looked around. No help. So I climbed up on that little step stool and reached up and pulled it down. The last bottle of the stuff! I was both excited and a little bit apprehensive. What if it was the last bottle they were ever going to have? What would I do when I used up all of this bottle?

When I took Peter back to Fort Worth, a couple of weeks ago, we did some shopping together. I looked again at this store, hoping that there would be another big bottle of this soap that smells so good, and, sure enough, in exactly the same place, there was one lone bottle. This time, there was an attendant, who asked if he could help.

“Yes,” I said, relieved. “I’d like the bottle of that African Black Soap up there.” He looked up to where I pointed. Then he leaned over and reached down the the lowermost shelf, where there were several bottles.

(If you look at the photo, you can see that, when I was there a few months ago, there were also a number of the bottles, on the bottom shelf, easily accessible to me and other shoppers. I just didn’t see them; I didn’t look in the right place.)

He picked up one of them and held it out to me. “I’m looking for the Citrus one,” I said.

He sighed a little sigh, leaned over again, and picked up a different bottle.

“This one says, ‘Peppermint,'” I said. “I like the one that’s ‘Citrus.'” (Actually it’s “Tangerine Citrus.” It smells fabulous!)

He leaned over again; I leaned over, and together we searched and found “Tangerine Citrus.”

“Thank you for helping me,” I said. “Now I know where to look for it next time.”

And it seems like a pretty good idea for me to always have the next bottle of it, waiting for me so that I’ve got some on hand, when the last drop of the previous bottle is used up.

Meanwhile, the last time I was in this section (healthy and healthful products) of the interesting grocery store, I saw this item, which was new to me.

I’m mystified why anyone would create a food product with the name “Soylent.” I can’t find the word in the online dictionary, but it is the name of a, um, “food” from the Science Fiction movie “Soylent Green” (1973). The only other reference I see online is this meal replacement beverage. I’m not going to give anything away, but, if you’re planning on trying out this Soylent meal drink, I very strongly suggest that you never watch the movie.

I have provided all kinds of fruit and grain for you to eat. And I have given the green plants as food for everything else that breathes. These will be food for animals, both wild and tame, and for birds.

Genesis 1:29-30 (Contemporary English Version )

I certainly do not object to the use of soy for food. I just think that the producers of food products for human beings might should find a better name, in addition to creating healthy food for people.

Christmas Perfect, or Christmas Memorable

December 28th, 2017 | Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

If all your Christmases run smoothly, and everything’s perfect–just like it was so carefully planned, how do you remember one Christmas from another? Do they just blur together, in one big holiday collage of red and green and a tree and lights?

Not at our house. We live in RealWorldLand, where the best laid plans stay lying around, being balky and uncooperative, which means that we are often, at holiday time, remembering previous disasters/missteps/etc. Like, “Remember the time Mom put Snickers bars in the toes of our Christmas stockings, and we had the fire going on Christmas Eve and on Christmas morning, and when we dug the candy bars out, they were all melted in their wrappers?” Stuff like that. Nothing particularly serious. Just memorable.

Jeremy and Sarah arrived the Friday before Christmas, from New York. They rented a car and drove to Waco from DFW airport. (Even though Jeremy really appreciates the public transportation in New York, he seems to have missed, a little bit, being able to drive.) We had a pretty relaxing time, doing some cooking (there were still some apples left over from Halloween, and they crafted some homemade applesauce, which was yummy, and for Christmas dessert, they made Apple Crisp). Memorable.

Jeremy dug through the game closet and pulled out games to play.

: We played the game *Ubi,* which I do not recommend. To anyone. It’s the sort of game that drags and drags and drags on, until everyone involved begins to encourage and support any player who seems at all close to winning. Yay, Jeremy! Memorable!

: When this game came out, it was really, really expensive. Now, a few years later, I found one at Wal-Mart, at a much reduced price.

: We played the game *Survive* (which isn’t annoying) for the first time with Peter (he and Sarah were on a team).

Jeremy and Sarah and I played a round of Ticket to Ride. Then we played again with David. I was in last place, seriously in last place, both times. Then, we played again with Kevin. I won. By a lot! Which proves that, while a little bit of skill is important, luck plays a significant part in this game. Memorable.

Also memorable this year, April wasn’t able to come. Peter had been sick, but was well enough to come (if you don’t count that fact that his ears were still stopped up and he often appeared to be ignoring us). April, however, was pretty sick, missed her own family’s celebration, and stayed in Fort Worth. We’ll remember that Christmas without April, but we hope it doesn’t happen again.

As I planned and prepared for Christmas dinner, I kept thinking, “Oh, I should have . . . .” And I bought the ingredients. (And, I had actually baked and sliced two small turkey breasts for Christmas dinner ‘way back right after Thanksgiving, and put them in the freezer. Unusually ahead of time.) Quite memorable.

Kevin and Peter were arriving late afternoon on Christmas, and we were cooking and getting ready for a good part of the day. The counter just kept getting more and more crowded. Just as I was putting some of the final dishes out, I suddenly felt really weak and shaky. I plopped into the rocking chair in the kitchen and said, “My blood sugar’s low.” “What do you need? What do you need!” “Juice,” I said. “There’s white grape juice in the fridge door.” They brought it over, and kept putting out food and arranging things. The turkey was heating up in the oven, and they kept asking what else was supposed to be out and where was it. Finally, it was just the turkey that needed to come out.

Some nice, sliced turkey pieces, lying artfully amid the glass pie plate shards.

Jeremy picked up the glass pie pan that was holding the turkey slices and carried it to the serving area. About three inches away, the pan slipped from the pot holder in his hand and crashed to the floor. Turkey and glass shards everywhere. Fortunately, some of the turkey was still in the oven. On another pie plate.

Jeremy looked down at the mess and said, “Was that plate special?” “Well,” I admitted. “It belonged to my mother … but I have the other one. There’s another one!” There was enough turkey for everyone (well, for the everyone who’s not vegetarian). Pretty memorable.

The kids worked on a desk/bookshelf for David’s office. Then they erected a small enclosed (plastic) greenhouse sort of thing, for me to use to keep my plants safe during the winter. Mem.Or.A.Ble!

: Peter’s ready to go out to work on some lumber.

: Peter handing a support pole to the other family workers inside.

And some things aren’t all that memorable; they’re just traditions that we like to keep up!

: There were homemade Christmas cookies.

: This year’s crackers were great, well-made, with interesting toys, like this stunning mustache

: like these tiny office supplies–tiny tape and a tiny stapler. The stapler doesn’t have staples. (I wonder if Office Depot have any the right size.

: And, a most favorite tradition–watching Claymation Christmas (usually with hot chocolate, but this time, waiting for pizzas to cook)

We went to the Christmas Eve service. Maybe we won’t remember the exact details a few months from now, but it was good to see family members who have come back for the holiday to visit. It was good to sit in the dark with my own family, and hear the songs and the story. It was good to see the candlelights all around the room. It was memorable.

Mary, too, pondered all of these events, treasuring each memory in her heart.

Luke 2:19 (The Voice)

Wishing you many memorable moments to treasure in your heart.

…By Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

September 21st, 2017 | Faithfulness, Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace, Self-Control

Possibly there are folks out there who don’t recognize this partial quote. (The title of this post) It’s Shakespeare, from the play Romeo and Juliet. The longer quote is:
“What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;”

The speaker is Juliet, and she’s unhappy that the young man with whom she’s recently fallen in love is from a family on the outs with her family. Her point being that his last name doesn’t matter; she loves him anyhow, in the way that the scent of a rose is going to smell just as nice, even if we called it, for example, “stench-plant.”

The name “Romeo” has come to mean a lover, a ladies’ man, etc. (you can look it up). I don’t know what Shakespeare meant by it; maybe it was just a common name in those days.

But … moving on. A while back, I kept reading in the newspaper’s television page about the program TURN, the story of George Washington’s spy ring during the Revolutionary War. Like: “Tonight on TURN, the spy ring finds a new ally.” That sort of thing. Finally, during season 4 (the final season), I got interested and discovered that the library had DVDs of the first three seasons. (Yes, I know. We’re archaic. My kids think we’re ridiculous because we don’t have Hulu.) I watched all those videos and then watched the fourth season on the AMC website.

Then I found, also at the library (how old-fashioned am I!), an audiobook edition of the book Valiant Ambition: George Washington, Benedict Arnold, and the Fate of the American Revolution. I’m listening to it. All 13 hours and 19 minutes of it. I’m a little more than halfway through it, but sometimes I have to go back and start a chapter anew. When I’m listening to an audiobook, I’m almost always doing something else, like working in the yard or doing housework, and, at some point, I realize that I’ve been thinking about herbs and not paying attention to patriots, and I have to skip backwards a little bit. And, for this one, a book of Revolutionary War maps would have helped. And a complete list of all the characters. And which side they were on.

Which brings me to Benedict Arnold. The only thing I knew, and pretty much still know, about Benedict Arnold is that he was a traitor during the American Revolution. I think that may be all that most of us know. And some of us probably don’t know that much. But the name means “traitor.” As in: “That which we call Benedict Arnold, by any other name would still be a traitor.” Even knowing more about him and the positive things he did during the Revolutionary War (before he changed his mind about us), he’s still famous/infamous for trying to sell us down the river, almost literally, and would have, if the plot hadn’t been discovered. And the British guy he was working most closely with, John Andre, got captured and hanged. Arnold slipped away and got himself to a British ship and fought with those guys until the end of the war. And then, afterward, in England, tried to stir up things anew! Give it up, Ben!

: This is the book that the television program was based on. The library doesn’t have it.

: This is the book that the library *does* have. I’ve put it on hold.

It’s interesting, at least to me, maybe you, too, that there are names out there, that, when bestowed at birth may just have been names that parents liked, but they’ve come to mean something that no one might have imagined. Like Benedict Arnold. Like Adolph Hitler. Like Benito Mussolini. Like Josef Stalin. Like Caligula.

And there were other names, that have come to mean something that the name-givers (or name-takers) might not have expected. Or, maybe they thought, all the time, that those named would become so significant. Like Mother Teresa. Mohandas Gandhi. Martin Luther. Marie Curie. Johann Sebastian Bach. Alexander Graham Bell. Anne Frank. Francis I.

A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. (New International Version)

A good reputation and respect are worth much more than silver and gold. (Contemporary English Version)

Proverbs 22:1

I guess “a good reputation” is what scripture means by “a good name.” Our actions, our behavior, and our attitudes, are what make our “names” good.