Actually, I’m back from the trip, but I’m not a hip modern girl with a laptop and a tablet. I only have my phone. And that’s no way to write and post a blog each week. So, before I left home on May 21, I had to get three blogs ready to go out on the three Fridays I’d be away. So, let’s pretend that it’s three weeks ago, and I’m getting ready to leave. Okay?
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I was at Wal-Mart the other day, with a friend who was purchasing one of those giant bags of flour (for a school project). The checkout lines were long and she said, “Let’s do the Self-Checkout.” (Fortunately, she is much younger and stronger than I, and was pretty easily handling the really GIANT bag of flour.)
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If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then is age in the heart of the beheld? (Or, you’re as old as you feel.) I’m 66. When I look out and think about people who are 66, I think, “Wow. That’s really getting on in years, isn’t it.” But when I think about myself, I think, “Sixty-six. Not so bad.” Or else I’m thinking, “Sixty-six!! Ollie, Mollie, Gollie! How did this happen?
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I guess that, when I was growing up, there were thunderstorms at all times of the day. But, I don’t particularly recall any daytime or afternoon showers. I do remember those that occurred in the dead of night, the crashing, house-quaking thunder, and the giant jolts of light at my windows. Those were scary, scary things. And I was not about to live through them all by myself. Nothing sent me scurrying faster to my parents’ bed than a middle-of-the-night storm.
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JoAnne says that one of the most influential books she’s read, and she read it as a child, was Cheaper by the Dozen (not anything like the movie with Steve Martin). It’s about Frank and Lillian Gilbreth and their family of twelve kids. The Gilbreths were Motion Study experts, pioneers in the field of being efficient at work and creating a work environment that eased physical stress. Books about being well organized have been popular best sellers for years. And still, lots of us struggle to reach that elusive goal.
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I thought that Kevin and April (and PETER!) weren’t coming for Easter. But, then, they decided to!!! Which made a good weekend even more anticipated, more delightful, more satisfying.
I had Peter all by myself on Friday. There was a little shopping. A little napping. And a surprise! April’s birthday is coming up soon, and I thought we could make a surprise for her. I planned to make treats to serve on Sunday. However, when a three-year-old prepares a surprise on a Friday, you just have to have that surprise on a Friday. I asked what kind of cupcakes he thought Mommy would like. White. And what kind of frosting? White. With sprinkles. So that’s what we did.
Saturday was a beautiful day.
Peter was the first one who arrived with flowers.
Sunday morning–We have a large cross that stays in the Worship Center all the time.
We have a tradition of putting fresh flowers on it on Easter Sunday morning.
I handed Peter over to David when I arrived at church. Then I went on along to my Sunday School room to prepare for preschoolers’ arrival. As I was rushing around the room, suddenly, something seemed a little odd.
Of all the things we do at my church, and maybe ever have done, my most favorite is how we do baptisms these days. Instead of sitting in our pews and watching from afar (well, it’s not that far), we gather forward. Kids in front, so they can see well. The rest of us packed behind them, on the platform, on the steps, pressed together.
Welcome, young lady. Welcome into your faith family.
“Now, get on your way quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He is risen from the dead. He is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.’ That’s the message.”
Matthew 28:7 (The Message)
Christ is risen. Christós Anésti, or Χριστός Ανέστη. (We have Greek relatives.)
Let’s face it, for people who love Jesus, every weekend is a happy Easter weekend.
It seems to me, and I understand that I don’t visit several churches on Easter Sunday morning, that Easter Sunday finery has ramped down somewhat since I was growing up. We always got a new dress, and when I was really young, there was a hat involved. And there were gloves.
The preschool kids in my Sunday School class do come pretty dressed up on Easter Sunday, which is why we do NOT paint on that day. But there hasn’t been a hat or a glove in years. Really different from my Easter Outfit experience.
And I remember buying shoes. We’d go to a shoe store, look around, maybe find a pair or two that we liked. Then we’d sit down and wait for a shoe salesman to come help us. He (and it was always “he” when I was growing up) would ask us what we were looking for, and we’d point out the shoe(s) that we’d like to try. Or, we might just say, “white dress shoes, please.” Then he would sit down on his shoe salesman’s stool, and put his shoe measuring device on the slanted part of the stool. We’d take off our shoe and he would guide our foot onto the measurer, putting our heel tightly at the back. He would press our toes down and the lines would show him our shoe size
Then he would bring out shoes for us to try on. We’d walk around on the carpeted shoe area and try out each pair. We might buy a pair, or we might not. Maybe we would visit another shoe store, or a department store with a good shoe selection. We felt special and cared-about, and new shoes smelled so good. They were clean and perfect. And since they were Sunday shoes and only got worn once a week and to the occasional party, they stayed looking pretty good.
Every new year brought changes in footwear:
How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,
who brings good news,
who announces salvation,
who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”
Isaiah 52:7 (New Revised Standard Version)
This is one of my dad’s favorite verses. He taught Sunday School for more than 40 years, and I think he thought of himself as a messenger who announced peace, brought good news, announced salvation, and said, “Your God reigns.” In his black shoes.
First day of school-first grade
When I was a first or second grader, Mother put me to bed one evening and said, “You probably won’t be able to go to school tomorrow.” At that age, I still really wanted to go to school, and I was not happy at all with this news. It was something about pink eye.
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I get sleepy, riding in the car. When I’m the passenger, I often do lots of napping on a long trip (unless people are talking to me). When I’m driving, I have some “staying awake” strategies. If there are passengers, we can chat, of course. Sometimes we take a box of question cards from a game like Trivial Pursuit or Ubi (a geography game which I do NOT like to play, and is so old that some of the answers are no longer accurate, but that just incites lively conversation, so it works out). And once, Jeremy and I played Twenty Questions all the way from Waco to San Angelo. (About 220 miles)
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I suppose there are little kids who don’t like to go outside. Most of the ones I know (or knew when they were little), very much do like to go outside. Or, sometimes they look out the window and just think they want to go outside. When they do get out there and it’s 105° or 25°, they want to come right back in. (Of course, the problem is that no parent or responsible caregiver is going to let them go out when it’s 105° or 25° so the kids keep on standing by the door wailing at the injustice of it all. And the parents/caregivers are pretty much wailing on the inside…at the injustice of it all.)
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