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The Bible Tells Me

I’m not the Bible scholar I should be. I know some verses; not as many as I ought. Still, I find most of my experiences can be framed or underscored, explained or illuminated, by Scripture. Or maybe a hymn or a worship song, a devotional or a testimony. Frequently, I have those “Oh, yeah” moments when I see God clearly in an event. Or realized that I should have seen Him.

These are the moments of “The Bible tells me.”

These essays reflect that. Do know that I can proof-text as well as anyone. I have a concordance, and I know how to use it. Well, truthfully, I do all of that online now, where I can quickly find a passage, see it in many versions, and choose the one I like best. I try not to be narrow, but instead broad, as I apply Bible words to my experiences. I know that your interpretations and understanding may be different than mine. But I also know that our God is big enough for all of us.

I have a friend who, in her prayer time, likes to tell jokes to God. “I know He knows the punch line,” she says. “But I tell them anyway. He likes it when I laugh.”

He likes it when I laugh. I’m going to hang on to that. It’s Biblical. The Bible tells me.

Our mouths were filled with laughter then,
and our tongues with shouts of joy.
Then they said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord had done great things for us;
we were joyful.

Psalm 126: 2,3 (HCSB)

C’mon, Apple Guys! Make a Better Choice!

| Patience, Self-Control

Sunday through Thursday evenings, I set my iPhone’s alarm for 7:00 a.m. I almost always wake up at 6:00 or 6:30, but, just to be sure, I do set that alarm, so I’ll be up and able to take care of some early morning responsibilities. I put the phone on the windowsill above the bed, and plug it in, so I’ll be able to recharge the thing and to hear it, if I don’t wake up and turn it off earlier. (On Friday and Saturday nights, I use the bathroom plug for recharging and for quiet.)

Last Tuesday evening, I was really tired, and turned in at 9:00, after setting the phone’s alarm and plugging it in. I snuggled under the covers and went right to sleep. At some time later, I was jolted awake with a loud clang noise and a very bright flash of light, coming from just above my head. I quickly reached for the phone and pulled it down. That sort of commotion is usually caused by an Amber Alert or a bad weather alert.

I looked at the screen, and, seriously, this is the information I got: a three or four sentence recap of the Democratic Debates. IT WAS MIDNIGHT!

I certainly want to be an informed citizen, but, Apple guys, I can wait until morning!

Then, of course, I plugged the phone back in to its power source, up there on the window sill, and snuggled back onto my pillows and under the covers . . . where I tossed and turned for an hour. Or more. I guess I could have gotten up and made a nice cup of hot, decaf tea. I could have gone into the bathroom and, in the quiet and warmth of that space, read for a while. However, I wanted to go back to sleep. So I kept trying. And kept trying. And kept trying.

I don’t know when I went back to sleep. I was making an effort to not look at the clock, because not being asleep at 1:00, at 1:30, at 2:00, at 2:30, etc. was just going to make me feel angrier and sleepier. If I didn’t look at the clock, then I could imagine that it might only be 12:20, or 12:25, or at the very latest 12:40, which, of course, it was NOT.

I did finally go back to sleep, whenever it was. And I slept deeply, I think, because I was seriously startled when the phone alarm kept going on and on and on, with it’s little beeping sound. What IS that annoying, unending, beeping clamor?!?!? Oh, yeah, the phone. And I got up. At 7:15, or so.

 

Complain if you must, but don’t lash out.
Keep your mouth shut, and let your heart do the talking.
Build your case before God and wait for his verdict.

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

Psalm 4:4, 5, 8 (The Message)

 

 

Here’s my phone, up on the windowsill, charging up, and getting ready for tomorrow’s new day, hopefully after I’ve had a nice, uneventful slumber, what with my life being put back together and all.

 

If Someone Is as Old as They Feel . . .

| Faithfulness, Joy

then I’m really, really old. Really.

All parts of me hurt. Some more than others. Some more unrelenting than others. Some come and go. Some have come and stayed. And stayed.

I thinking things are not going to improve.

Meanwhile, or, it’s about time, I enrolled in Baylor’s Lifelong Learning program, designed for retired people. A friend recommended it. I signed up for “WWII, the Pacific Theater,” where I felt like a youngster, as several, actual, real-life WWII vets spoke to us.

And I signed up for a “Behind the Scenes at the Zoo” course. We’ve gone twice so far, and have two more sessions.

They’ve had these recyclable grocery bags made, and encouraged all of us to take one, or more, for public awareness. I took two.

The first week, we went to the zoo’s classroom building, where a couple of bird caregivers described two kinds of birds (which they had perched on their forearms), and how they came to the zoo and how they are cared for. They are rescue birds and had injuries that could not be completely corrected and they therefore could not safely be released into the wild again. And we learned about the other kinds of animals that come to the zoo for similar reasons, and now have a safe place to live, and give local folks an opportunity to see animals living in habitats that resemble as closely as possible where those kinds of animals live in the wild.

We also got lots of information about expansion and a new penguin habitat, African penguins, who are warm-weather penguins. A man asked, a little skeptical, if they were just going to go and get some of these fair-weather penguins and cart them to Waco. Well, no, not at all. This habitat is going to be a rescue and rehab facility. The Cameron Park Zoo is part of a world-wide zoological group that seeks to find animal groups that are endangered and/or at-risk, and bring unhealthy animals to a space where they can become hale and hearty and be returned to their home environments.

We got some information about the number of visitors who come to the zoo, annually, and how those numbers are rising. (There are folks in town who seem to resent the “Magnolia” effect–the idea that the rise in tourism numbers is the result of the enormous popularity of the Magnolia franchise. “We’ve always had a great __________________ (zoo, Dr. Pepper Museum, Mayborn  Museum, city park, etc.),” they say. And that is true, but if there weren’t many visitors to Waco, then who knew about those things. Now, people flock to Waco to visit the Magnolia store and then they say, “As long as we’re here, what else is there to do?” And we are thrilled to show them. The bar graph of zoo visitors for the past few years shows a steady rise, but, after the Magnolia properties were built, there’s a larger rise.

Last week, the zoo veterinarian talked to us a bit about his job and then we got to go see some behind-the-scenes stuff. Our zoo has several large primates, and, in an effort to create a healthy environment for them, the zoo staff has created some ways to determine the health of these animals, like taking blood pressure readings and doing blood draws. They’ve then shared their knowledge with other zoos.

We walked around to the back of the orangutan habitat. This long metal drawer-like apparatus is for taking blood draws. The orangutans are trained to put their arm into the drawer, on a cue. Then the primate professional wriggled her fingers while saying “Fingers!” When the primate stretched fingers through the openings, they were held while the blood was taken from the arm. Then, the fingers were released, the orangutan pulled her arm out, and, as is satisfying, she got a treat. Blood pressure is taken the same way. This is a temporary space for animals who are getting their medical evaluations. They live in an appropriate space. They take turns being out in the open or in spaces with viewing windows, and being in their own private space.

The Cameron Park Zoo is part of a large network of zoos that seek to learn how to keep animals healthy, because animal populations around the world are declining. If they can work with animal populations in other zoos and in the wild, then we can maintain the biodiversity that our planet needs.

 

 

Then we walked around to the back of the elephant’s habitat. We heard lots of interesting information about African and Asian elephants and how African elephant ears are larger, because Africa is hotter and they need their larger ears for flapping to help cool themselves off. This is an African elephant. You cannot tell here, but she’s holding a harmonica in her trunk. The animal keepers explained that they do not teach the animals to do tricks (like playing a harmonica) to entertain zoo guests. In the wild, elephants would take in lots of water from a lake or river, and then swoosh it out, cleaning off their bodies and clearing out their trunks. In a zoo, they have to be taught how to inhale deeply. So the elephant keepers used the harmonica as a teaching tool, to inhale deeply and then to expel quickly. It worked, and now the elephants can inhale water and then whoosh it out, cleaning out their trunks. But, the animal keepers learned that the elephants apparently do like to make sounds with the harmonicas and will do it for quite some time. Even if no one else is around to hear it.

 

 

Let the wise hear and increase in learning,  and the one who understands obtain guidance,

Proverbs 1:5 (English Standard Version)

 

Learning for a moment. Learning for a lifetime. Learning how to make a difference.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, I took this photo on September 25. The temperature was 95 degrees. Not exactly pumpkin weather. And now we’re in that “cool today/roasting again tomorrow,” “possibly not horrid/but hot the day after that,” and then, “it’s anybody’s guess” weather. Whatever I put on in the morning is inappropriate by afternoon.

In the Air. Left Hanging.

| Patience, Self-Control

I remember my first airplane trip.

My Dad traveled every other week for a great deal of my growing up years. He would leave on Monday mornings and return on Thursday evenings. He worked for the Veteran’s Administration (as it was known then, now Veteran’s Affairs). He was a Field Examiner and traveled to meet with veterans who were too far from an office to make regular visits. I’m not sure where all he went. I think he had an East Texas route. And I’m sure that he went to Austin.

One summer, we made a family vacation out of one of his trips. He stayed in the same motel for every Austin visit, and he was glad for the motel manager to meet his family and for us to meet her and to see where he spent so much time each month. And, it had a pool! It seems like we stayed two or three days, and did some visiting around Austin. Then, oh, yes, indeed, Mother and JoAnne and I flew home to Waco. JoAnne’s and my first airplane trip.

I don’t remember a whole lot about it, except that we got served breakfast. A real  breakfast. Eggs and toast and bacon. And cigarettes. There was a small carton of cigarettes on each tray. We collected all three of ours to hand over to the friend, a smoker, who was picking us up from the airport. Different times.

The stewardess came over to ask if I’d like to see the cockpit, but before we could make that visit, she realized that we didn’t have time. That trip from Austin to Waco, a hundred miles, wasn’t long enough. But, we got some pilot’s wings to wear.

 

I’ve done quite a bit of plane travel over the past years, mostly going to do training conferences in churches for preschool Sunday School and weekday teachers. But sometimes I was flying out to visit friends and family. Plane travel has changed a lot in those years. I remember when, not only did I get a hot meal, I got to choose if I wanted beef or chicken. I remember when they just handed you earphones to hear the movie.

Once, I was traveling to Nashville, along with other friends who were also going to a writers’ conference. The plane was a big one, with rows of three seats, five seats, and three seats across. It must have been a plane that needed to get to Nashville to ferry a much larger group of people. We had whole rows all to ourselves. It was great! (And we got a nice meal.)

Planes are different now. The rows are closer together, the seats themselves seem more narrow, and if I want any nourishment, I’d better bring it myself.

I like a window seat, only partly because of the window. I guess having the window makes that seat seem less crowded, with that light and open-seeming space next to me. Mainly, people aren’t trying to climb over me if they need to get to the aisle. If I’m napping, I’m less likely to be bothered when I’m sitting by a window. There are drawbacks, but I avoid drinking too much water for quite a while before boarding and always make that “as late as possible” trip to the bathroom.

On my last plane trip, I enjoyed the, um, entertainment center, I guess, on the back of the seat in front of me. It had several music choices and there were a couple of movies. So, I had only to put in my earbuds to have something to listen to. I didn’t watch a movie, because it was already in progress by time I figured out everything, and anyway, I was reading the airline magazine and doing the crossword puzzle. As we neared DFW, a flight attendant began giving us our “prepare for landing” guidelines. Seat backs up. Tray tables stowed. Check for possessions. Gather up trash to hand over to attendants. All that sort of thing.

And then she said, “Return head and footrests to their stowed position.” Headrests? Footrests? Seriously!!!

Yes, there were First-Class passengers on this plane. Maybe eight of them. Maybe twelve? And the scores and scores of the rest of us! She could have very easily walked by each of those First-Class rows and quietly said to them, “Headrest and footrests stowed, please. Thank you.” And not reminded the rest of us that we were Second class folks. Or less.

 

Remind them to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show every courtesy to everyone.

Titus 3:1-2 (New Revised Standard Version)

Meanwhile, we’re approaching an event’s anniversary that still makes my stomach tighten. October 14, marks the beginning of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. It lasted thirteen days, and happened when my Dad was still traveling for work. He was only gone for four days, every other week, so he wasn’t away that whole time. But, I do remember that he was away for part of it. I have never been so scared.

Some neighbors in the next block up from us were so very concerned that, after that particular crisis was over, they had a bomb shelter installed in their back yard. We kids in the neighborhood called it “Big John,” which was a popular song at the time, and the thing looked like the grave of a very large person. It’s still there. I drive by it a couple of times a day. Every now and then, I consider dropping by and asking the current homeowners what they are doing with it, now. Maybe it’s still all stocked up and waiting for a disaster.

Working at Church, in the Most Interesting Way

| Joy

 

 

I purchased these plastic pipes and connectors several years ago, for kids at church to build with. I’d found a few (with a smaller diameter) in our Resource Room. The kids enjoyed them, but there were so few of the pipes and connectors, that the children were frustrated by not being able to build more complex structures. I went to one of those big ol’ hardware/do-it-yourself stores. I chose a larger diametered size of pipe and the connectors that went with them. I discovered that the helpful employees would actually cut the very long pipes into more reasonable kid-friendly lengths.

Once, a boy was thinking and working and planning and putting pieces together, and, Ollie, Mollie, Gollie, he’d made a football goal post. He and two friends then went to work making another, identical structure, because everyone knows that you need TWO of those things.

 

 

 

 

And then, one morning, a few years later, somebody had a new and different idea. I think it was a couple of men who had volunteered to be in the room during the worship service hour. They created an over-sized version of a marble run.

You can see the wooden beads on the floor of the loft. We used to string them together to make a length of beads. That rarely happens these days, as it’s ‘way more fun to send them down a chute.

 

 

 

 

A few weeks in to this hilariously interesting activity, we determined that we needed to require the kids to create some sort of dam to prevent the beads from careening around the room and getting stepped on. Or, on some occasions, no beads could be found, and we had to move the larger pieces of furniture, like the block shelf and sink cabinet, to be able to locate the many, many beads that had rolled underneath them. That curved piece on the left is to re-direct beads under the loft, instead of zinging around the room.

But this one, on the right, is by far the best rampant-bead-rolling solution. It was the child’s idea. They made this a couple of feet longer than it shows in the photo. And, by time the beads rolled all the way down this corridor, they’d slowed down quite a bit and were easily retrieved.

 

 

And, these are some other bead-stopping solutions.

This was a very interesting addition to the original structure. However, it wasn’t really a reasonable addition to the original design. Balls that got dropped into the run just sat at the bottom, not really having enough momentum to travel to the end of the line. Or, not being to levitate up and over. But, that’s what trial and error are for. And, it certainly has value as a piece of preschool artistic design.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Recently, some interesting new parts showed up. I suspect Dads again. (Dads who knew where the rolls of colorful duct tape are stored.) And, I did have one Dad who looked at the thing and said it needed some stablility. He added some parts to make the whole structure more durable. You can see, in the right-hand photo, a gray band around one of the pipes. There are three of them, securely holding up some of the important parts.

I looked at all of this and thought, “How hard could it be, to get some more of those things and make other parts more secure.” I removed one of those gray things and took it to Home Depot. I went to the department where the white pipes are and showed them to an employee who was working in the area. He didn’t recognize it. Hmmmm.

Then, he went to ask around and came back and said, “I think it’s in the electrical department.” Bingo

 

 

It was that easy. And I was so excited to so easily find these that I didn’t look at the package and see that there it was a 5 Pack. And 5 was not enough. Which I figured out when I got to church and started putting them up.

I took some drill bits and some screws. At church, there actually are a couple of hand drills that we use when we’re talking about Bible people who were woodworkers, like Noah, and Joseph, and Jesus. But, the drill bits the kids use are really large. I took my own, smaller, drill bits. I drilled some holes, I screwed down some pipes. I pulled off lots of duct tape. And I cleaned lots of duct tape adhesive from the Plexiglass.

And I went back to Home Depot and got more of those Conduit Clamps.

 

This is what it looks like now. Maybe not as colorful, but somewhat more stable, I think.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do your work willingly, as though you were serving the Lord himself, and not just your earthly master.

Colossians 3:23 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

 

I must admit that it’s lots easier to work willingly when I doing work for the kids.

And, an update from last week—

A photo from Thursday afternoon

At the carpool driveway–no cones!

 

 

 

 

 

I TRIED to Be Nice . . .

| Kindness, Patience, Self-Control

I’m helping a friend with some carpooling. For a schoolkid. It’s taken a little while for me to get with the program and go in the right way and go out the right way. And how things change a little for the morning drop-off and the afternoon pick-up.

FYI-Nine cars can get through the light at the turn signal and then on through a driveway. Or, if I’m too far back in the line (car #11, for example) I can go straight and enter through a different driveway.

It’s a bit of a dance, and morning’s always easier, because not everyone’s arriving at exactly the same time. And the school employees who are guiding things along are fresh and calm. Afternoon is a little more challenging, because all the kids are getting out at the exact same time, and the school employee who is tasked with keeping us all in order seems a little bit stressed.

I also am stressed because they put traffic cones across the primary exit. Yes, they do. The rationale seems to be to keep cars from coming in that driveway, and therefore causing a traffic snarl. I, personally, have never seen anyone come in that outgoing space, but, of course, I’m not there all day. And, in all the days I’ve been on carpool duty this fall, I have never once seen a school employee come and remove the traffic cones so we carpool drivers can get out. I’ve seen parents get out of their cars and move a cone or two, but not anyone else.

A couple of nights ago, when I was having trouble sleeping, mainly because I was thinking about the next day’s afternoon carpool and how I needed to get in line first, or so, to be able to get going. I stewed and grumbled, and then had an epiphany. I needed to improve my attitude. I thought, I can move the traffic cones to make the exiting easier for all of us. And, I can do it nicely and creatively.

My plan consisted of moving the cones and putting them in interesting, creative patterns. My plan for that day was to stack all four cones and put them in the center of the driveway, so there would be plenty of space for cars to drive past easily and turn onto the roadway. Then, the next day, I thought, I could put two cones next to the left-hand side of the driveway and two cones next to the right-hand side of the driveway. Then, I could put pairs of cones on the grass next to each side of the driveway. I was satisfied with this idea that would take away the anger and frustration I was feeling and would give me a sense of helpfulness, and, well, whimsy.

Then, when I got up, I read through a little devotional that comes to me through e-mail. That day, it said, “Mercy is an act of grace or unmerited favor when other options are available and seem more appealing. It’s taking your foot off the neck of someone when, by every standard of this world, they deserve to be crushed. Mercy is a characteristic of mature Christians. It’s not easy, and it’s not consistent with the messages of today’s world — to hit back hard, to wall ourselves off from the undeserving.” Okay, the afternoon school employee who supervises carpool hardly deserves to be crushed. But I felt affirmed in that I was making a plan that would be a kind thing for me to do and I could feel like I was doing something helpful.

Here’s how it worked out: That afternoon, I arrived earlier than on other days, because I had something I planned to do and I wanted to get there a little early to be able to pick up my carpoolee and get going. I parked close to the exit driveway, got out, and moved the first traffic cone. I slipped it on top of the next cone and was picking them up to move them to the center of the driveway, when the afternoon carpool lady came racing towards me, yelling, “Don’t move the cones!!” (Lest you think I’m doing something egregious, every day some parent moves one or two cones, to be able to leave the parking lot.)

I said, “But I need to move a cone to be able to get out of the parking lot.”

She said, “The cones are to keep people from driving in.”

“Yes,” I said. “But, we need to be able to leave the parking lot. School is out for today.”

And she said, “You can go out that way,” as she pointed to another lane in the parking lot.

I looked at her with absolute astonishment.

“When I tried to do that last week, you got angry with me,” I said.

She did not have a reply.

“How about,” I said, “I can pull my car up close to the space where the cone was, and that will keep anyone from driving into the parking lot.”

She again did not have a reply. But she walked away.

I got in the car and pulled up close to the coneless space. Then, a few minutes later, a lady whose student had apparently rushed out of school and hopped into the car, rolled down her window and called out to me, “Can you move your car a little bit, so I can get out.”

“Sure,” I called over to her, as I began backing up. And, of course she needed me to move, as the driveway was blocked by the remaining three traffic cones.

 

Kindness is its own reward, but cruelty is a self-inflicted wound.

Proverbs 11:17 (The Voice Translation)

 

 

Perhaps I should find out the afternoon carpool lady’s name, so I can thank God for her. It cannot be an easy job.

Safety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, RoadSafety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, RoadSafety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, RoadSafety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, Road

In With the New

| Goodness, Love, Peace

Our first computer was little more than a toy. It used (you may need to sit down to process this) cassette tapes to copy and store data. Once, I lost an entire Vacation Bible School session: activities, group time plans, snack ideas, recreation suggestions, and information for preschool teachers, for a session that would be three hours in length. I still, of course, had my notes and plans, but I had to immediately sit down and re-enter it, while it was all fresh in my mind. Ordinarily, one would save material, and then print it out, just in case there was some glitch in the printing process. Not this time. After I’d completely re-entered all the material, I printed it out. Then I saved it. And that time, the saving process went smoothly. I don’t remember how long we had that computer, but when the family of a friend of Kevin’s was getting a new computer, and he was talking to Kevin about the computer they weren’t going to keep, Kevin suggested that we buy it from them, and we quickly did. And, while it was nothing like the computer we have now, it was a mighty improvement over what we had. It was an Apple II. It used floppy disks to store data.

Some time after that, we had a brown-out at our house. (That’s what the electric company guys called it.) A branch fell from our big pecan tree onto the electric power line, in the middle of the night. Jeremy, who was ill and not sleeping well, noticed that the numbers on his clock were dim. He came in and woke us up. When we turned on the lights, they also were dim. David called the electric company, and repair people came right out, in the middle of the night. There’d been a surge before the brown-out, and we discovered that a few things had been damaged by that surge. The air conditioner!! (Of course, this thing happened in the heat of the summer.) The VCR.  Jeremy would be unable to watch movies we’d gotten for him to watch while he was under the weather. And, yes, the computer. Actually it was some box (which had important wiring) that was part of the electrical wire that plugged into the socket.

We called the air conditioning repair guy as soon as we could. Even though it was August, it was a rainy few days and we didn’t swelter too very much before they were able to come and fix it. Then, I went and purchased a new VCR. I called the computer people. I don’t remember how much the new electrical cord with the important box on it cost, but it was a lot and, really, the computer was old. In computer time.

I made the suggestion, over dinner that night, that instead of replacing the damaged cord, we put that money toward to new computer. BUT. That new computer would be an early, family Christmas gift. And, given the cost, that would be what we would be getting for Christmas. No other gifts. It seemed like a good idea. Maybe not a great idea, but a good idea. I reminded them that they would be getting gifts from grandparents and other family members. And, we would have, right now, a brand new, fabulous computer.

We got a Mac. Next, we got an iMac, that blue, roundish kind. Then we got a red iMac, because the first on got stolen. Yeah. Really. And then David got a computer, too. And then we upgraded.

And now, I’m as bad as anyone when I complain that my present computer seemed so slow! It WAS so slow.

A few months ago, I was complaining to Kevin about it, and his immediate reaction was, of course, that I should get a new computer!

This is the new computer. The picture is a dune from the Mojave desert. It changes during the day, and at night, the sky will be dark, as will the dune.

And it is way too easy to get a new computer. Kevin made the choice for me, I gave him my credit card number, he ordered the thing, and Bob’s Your Uncle.

Kevin was planning a trip to Waco soon, and he got it all set up for me while he was here.

 

 

Meanwhile, I also had, on a shelf above the computer, a television set. It was a verrrrry old television, and I didn’t watch it a lot, but, I did watch it some. And it just seemed like a nice, new, up-to-date television might be nice and work well and look nice. So I got a television, too.

The television we have in the main room is a nice, newish, television, and there’s a TIVO box that brings a lot of television programming into the house. We don’t really watch that much of it. The box that was in the room with my archaic television is a smaller version and only provides something like 90 channels.

When Kevin came, we got the computer out of the box, and he got it all set up. He moved all my mail/work/photos/etc. from the old computer to the new computer. And it is very nice.

The new television with the remotes

The television proved more challenging. There were lots of cables and wires, and after several tries, he finally got the right cable in the right place and used the television’s remote to get all the channels up and running. But they didn’t quite run. Kevin said to call the cable company and tell them that and find out what to do. And, after a few weeks, I finally did, earlier this week. First, I had to call the cable people. I had to wait a long time for a human being, but a guy finally came on. I explained that I had this new television and it came on all right, but I couldn’t get the channels to come up. He said was I using the cable company’s remote. I said I was using the television’s remote. I didn’t have a cable company remote. He was confounded. How did I use the TIVO box if I didn’t have the cable company’s box? I said that I didn’t have the TIVO cable box on my television. The main television, in another room, had the TIVO box. My box was small and it didn’t have its own remote. We don’t use those small boxes any more. You need a TIVO box. Okay. But someone will need to come and bring it, right.

So he said, “Tomorrow. Times are ‘between 8 and noon,’ and ‘between 1 and 5,’ and ‘between 5 and 9.’ ” I went with “between 8 and noon.”

A very nice young man showed up at 8:00 a.m. and went to work. Turns out, I do not need a big TIVO box. I just need the small box, which is what I said. However, my small box wasn’t working well, so I got a new small box. And he had to do some work with wires outside, where he found a wasp’s nest. He said did I have some dishwashing liquid, which I did. I put it in a cup with some water and he went out to take care of those pesky wasps who had made a nest right by the wiring he needed to work on. And, turns out that the little box does have its own remote, which must be a new thing, because for years, I didn’t have one to use and watched all the channels by using the television’s own remote, but none of that matters now, does it.

The cable guy was gone by 9:30, and I sat down to enjoy my new equipment. I checked the television schedule (conveniently on my computer) and ended up watching 9/11 programming for most of the day.

I think that the rhythmic phrase “Remember, remember” was first used in a poem dated as 1870. The event, poetically described, refers to a rebellion in Britain led by Guy Fawkes on November 5, 1605. The poem’s title is “The Fifth of November” and the first lines are:

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!

There’s also a song, “8th of November,” that refers to a military event from the Vietnam War.

We’re encouraged to remember! Remember the Maine!    Remember the Alamo!

And it is easy to recall and say “Remember. Remember, eleven September.”

My children do remember. Kevin will be able to explain it to Peter, who can say to his kids, “Yeah. I remember my dad telling me about that.” And we can hope that in Peter’s generation, the rallying cry “Remember!” could refer to a different kind of event. One that doesn’t make you cry.

 

I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord;  I will remember your wonders of old.

Psalm 77:11 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

 

Remember! Remember! The great deeds! The wonders! Remember!

 

 

 

 

I Learn a Lesson. Hopefully.

| Kindness, Patience

I bought a book last week. Truth be told, I was required to purchase a book last week.

Here’s how that happened.

Monday, a week ago, I had a doctor’s appointment. There’s usually some sit-around time at a doctor’s office. Could be short; could be long. Often, there are magazines lying around for folks to read. At the kidney place, there are quite a few exactly identical magazines that are professional kidney-related periodicals. They all look like they’ve never been touched, much less read.

And, if there are interesting magazines at a doctor’s office, and I pick up one to read, then I’m often in the middle of an interesting article when I have to go in to a see the doctor, and I never am able to finish the article. I guess I could go to the library, and see if they had a copy in their periodical room, but, given that what’s in the doctor’s office is often six months old, the out-dated copy of what I want isn’t there. It might be in a box that’s going to the annual library book sale, and I could find it there and buy it, but, really, what are the chances.

Taking a book (that I want to read) with me seems like the better choice, and that’s what I did. It was a “Maisie Dobbs” novel.

Several months ago, I popped into the library to look for an audio book to listen to when I was making a trip to Fort Worth to get Peter. I found several of them by an author named Jacqueline Winspear. It caught my eye because we have a niece whose last name is Winspear. (I should ask her if there’s a relation to anyone in her husband’s family.) I chose one and took it with me. The character is a private investigator in post WWI England. The book I chose was, of course, in the middle of the series, but I liked it. I looked up the series and started back at the beginning to catch up. Most of the books are on CD, but a couple of them aren’t, which means I have to stop in the middle of audio-enjoying a book while driving around, and actually get a hard-copy book and read it.

That’s the situation for the book in the physician’s office. I read in the waiting room, and then on to the “let’s check your vision” room, then to the “let’s scan your retina” room, and on to the “let’s shine the light of the sun into your eyes” room, then “wait here in this shadowy room,” and, finally, to the “wait here for the doctor” room. (We are very busy at the retina place.)

Then, and I am absolutely positive about this, when I went to check out and get a card for my next appointment, I had put the book on the counter. I remember seeing it there. Later, at home, when I wanted to read it, I couldn’t find it. It’s wasn’t in my purse, which is pretty big and where I usually put books when I’m toting them around.

It must be in the car I thought. It was not in the car. I guess it’s somewhere in the house. No, it was not anywhere in the house. Maybe I left it at the doctor’s after all.

Tuesday morning, I went straightway to the doctor’s office. I waited for my turn in line (where others where checking in), and then explained to the receptionist.

“I had a book with me yesterday morning when I was here. I thought I had it with me when I left, but I cannot find it anywhere in my car or house. Did someone find a book yesterday?”

She got up and stepped away from her desk and came back in a few seconds, with two books. I was briefly (very briefly) excited. But, although other people had left books (and who knows how long ago), mine was not there. She took my name and phone number and promised to call if it turned up.

I didn’t feel hopeful.

A couple of days later, I went to the library’s online site to check to see if any other books that I had might need to be turned in or renewed, and there was a message that said I couldn’t renew any of the books I did have, because I had an outstanding fine. OF 28 DOLLARS! I didn’t think it could be the book that I was afraid I had lost, because it wasn’t due for several more days. But, oh, yes, indeed. It was  the book I couldn’t find. I couldn’t find it because it had been turned in. Damaged.

I guess I dropped it when I left the doctor’s. On my way out of the building. As I got in the car. As I got out of the car, at my next stop. Wherever it was, it was in a parking lot or roadway. Because it had been run over.

Years ago, if you damaged a library book, you had to pay for it, but they didn’t give it back to you. I complained about that, because they were going to get rid of the damaged book and replace it. I should get the book back I argued (after I had #1-dropped a book in a puddle, and #2-dropped a different book in the bathtub.). They did not agree. However, recently, I learned that they had changed that policy. And, just in time! I went to the library, all contrite, and handed over my library card so they could start the process, and I paid for my very own, run-over-by-a-car copy of the Maisie Dobbs novel, A Lesson in Secrets.

What I find most amazing is that someone found the book, saw that it was a library book, and turned it in!! Otherwise, I’d have had to pay for the book and then waited for them to order another copy and then, hope-against-hope, that they would let me check out the new book to be able to finish the story.

Saturday morning, when the patio was in the shade, and before outdoor temperatures rose to oven-like, I sat on my new bench and finished reading the book. Let me know if you’d like to borrow it sometime.

 

Pay to all what is due them—taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due.

Romans 13:7 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

. . . and library fines to the library, if I ever again want to check out a book.

 

 

Trying to Get It All Done

| Joy, Patience

How hard can it be, hmmm? There are errands, there are places to go, there are lists. And, there is time. So one would think.

Somewhere, some time . . . in school, I think, I heard the maxim “Plan your work and work your plan.” It sounds so easy. Maybe it is easy. Or, when I was a younger woman, it might have been easy.

“Everyone has the same number of hours in a day.” Hah! It just seems that way, until I try to manage those hours. Then they seem elusive.

 

I have had these jasmine plants for a few weeks, and finally got them in the ground.

1. Make bed. Get dressed. Have breakfast. Run a time-sensitive errand. Go home.

 

2. Change into yard-working clothes. Hurry outside to try to get some yard work done before the temperature rises. Plant some plants. While listening to podcasts. I can’t determine if the podcasts make the planting go more slowly, or does the planting interfere with getting the most out of the podcasts. Move to the front yard to hand-water the plants in front of the porch, because the sprinklers don’t get to them. And, while they are warm-weather plants, they do need some water.

 

3. Go inside. Do some mealtime preparation, well, after carefully washing my hands, which have been inside gardening gloves, but are still pretty dirty. Work to ferret out the remainders of food that is left from last week’s guests. Yes, that lettuce is too limp. Those tomatoes are too old. The blueberries seem all right. The sugar snap peas seem to be just on the edge of all right. Looks like salad for dinner.

 

4. Have a grilled cheese sandwich while working an online jigsaw puzzle.

 

5. Check e-mails, calendar.

 

The bag I have carried to and from church for many, many years. It has held up pretty well. I have had to replace the handles twice.

 

 

6. Change from yard-working clothes back to going-out-in-public clothes. Last Sunday, I was so weary from the previous very busy week (see Apostille and Crayola), that, on Sunday, I went right home after Sunday School, and forgot to pick up the bag I use to tote stuff back and forth from church. I needed to go get it, and this afternoon seemed like the best time. Also, I needed to pick up the literature for the new fall quarter. And, the church office closes at 3:00 p.m., so I needed to get on over there. I made it in time, got my bag, looked in several places for the literature, asked a couple of people, and no one knew where it was. I’ll have to go back tomorrow.

 

 

 

7. Back home. Change back into yard clothes. The sun has moved on to the front of the house and the patio is now in shade. It’s not really cool out there,  but it’s not blazing.

8. Sweep all the dirt and debris from the patio, clean up out there. Go inside and straight to the shower.

9. Write blog. Add photos. Thank God.

10. Eat that salad.

11. Maybe I’ll read a little.

12. Go to bed.

 

Within your heart you can make plans for your future,
but the Lord chooses the steps you take to get there.

Proverbs 16:9 (The Passion Translation)

We plan the way we want to live,
    but only God makes us able to live it.

Proverbs 16:9 (The Message)

 

 

Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Psalm 8:1a) Thank You for my home, thank You for my family (at home and at church), thank You for each day that I can wake up (and get up), and thank You for Your unfailing love.

Make me an instrument of Your Peace. (St. Francis)

 

 

 

Crayola Wonderful World of Color!

| Joy, Patience

Last week, my sister JoAnne came, along with her sister-in-law (for a night). Then, we washed and changed sheets, and on Sunday, Kevin, April, and Peter came, bringing with them, Jeremy, who flew in the day before. Such a great time with so much of the family with us. We FaceTimed with Natalie, all the way in Nicaragua. We had strawberry shortcake for dinner (a tradition from my Dad’s mom). That night, all the beds had occupants, in addition to a couple of inflatable mattresses with sleepers.

Monday, we played games through the day and into the evening, and had Schmaltz’s for lunch (we’re trying to incorporate all the family traditions). Tuesday, we went to Butter my Biscuit for lunch (we also like to start new traditions). We were going to cook out, but nobody really wanted to spend any time at all outdoors in the sweltering heat, so we broiled those hot dogs in the oven.

Wednesday morning, we got up early and Jeremy and Peter and I took JoAnne to DFW airport, to fly back home to Everett, Washington. (She says, at the last minute, the plane couldn’t land in the smaller Paine Field, due to fog. They had to fly on to SEATAC to land and refuel before flying back to Everett. Arrival was 3 hours late. Kevin suggests that planes allow all passengers to carry a ziplock bag of jet fuel with them, so the plane could be refueled in midair.)

After leaving JoAnne at the airport, Jeremy and Peter and I went to Plano to a mall, where, per JoAnne’s sister-in-law, there was an interesting place called The Crayola Experience. She’d taken her great-nephew there and he’d enjoyed it. And, oh, my, it is pretty nifty.

We put all the crayons (and there were several) in a bag that we had gotten when we came in, as the Crayola Experience knew that we’d be taking home quite a bit of stuff.

 

There is a playscape area where kids can also climb and slide and bounce, bounce, bounce, when they need a P.E. break.

There was a little theater that had some animated crayons that talked about crayon-creating. There were some crayon-creating apparatus at the front of the theater, too. Then, after the crayons said their information, an actual human being came out and showed us how the melting machine worked and how the crayons came out of the liquid wax and became actual crayons. And, when we left, we got actual crayons (but not the ones that had just been made).

 

 

There were a couple of places to purchase food. For lunch, I had a salad, Jeremy had chicken strips, and Peter had a slice of cheese pizza. We shared an order of onion rings. So, snack sorts of food, but, folks don’t really go to the Crayola Experience for good food, do they.

 

We had received a few tokens when we went in. They paid for the crayon wrapping area, and the Model Magic. Most things didn’t require any extra payment. The panning area did. There were four sizes of bags, ranging from $7.98 to $24.98. I told Peter I would pay for the $7.98 bag or the $9.98 bag. He graciously chose the less expensive one. He’s been really interested in panning for stones, lately, and this was, I think, his most favorite activity.

 

 

I suppose that most folks don’t spend much time evaluating crayons, unless they’re involved in making art, but, as a person who’s spent years working with young children, I can tell you that Crayola crayons are really and truly much better than other crayons. The cheaper the crayon, the less effective it is. Crayola crayons last longer, cover more effectively, and melt much better. One thing that preschool teachers sometimes do is to melt down crayon stubs and broken crayon pieces (in an old muffin tin, or a foil baking cup in a muffin tin) to make chunky crayons for drawing. Inexpensive crayons melt unevenly, and often the ingredients separate into a waxy clear part and a uneven color part.

When I was getting ready for collage day at Fun with Friends this summer, I went through a big box of broken crayons at church. I threw away any non-Crayola crayon. I found lots of the colors I wanted, all in Crayola versions. I took them home and removed whatever papers were still on them. I actually have an electric crayon sharpener (like an electric pencil sharpener, but made for crayons). I spent a few hours, shaving down the pieces to make crayon scraps.

I had this station in the hallway, with an extension cord on an iron (set very low). My plan was to take only one kid at a time out to this table to make a crayon shaving design on a piece of waxed paper. Then I would cover it with another piece of waxed paper and iron over it. It’s pretty interesting to see how all the colors melt and mix. When he took his melted crayon design back into the room, not only did every other kid want to do it, but they all gathered by the table to watch everyone else’s designs melt together. Lower-priced brands of crayons do not do this well.

 

“Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!

Luke 6:31 (The Message)

 

 

We often look for quality in the things we purchase, the books and papers we read, the movies we watch. We want quality in the fresh food we purchase, the clothing we buy, and the vehicles we drive. If we value quality in the things around us for which we seek, we should also seek to be the quality people that other folks observe.

 

What is an Apostille?

| Patience, Peace

Good question

An Apostille (pronounced “ah-po-steel”) is a French word meaning certification.

An Apostille is simply the name for a specialized certificate, issued by the Secretary of State. The Apostille is attached to your original document to verify it is legitimate and authentic so it will be accepted in one of the other countries who are members of the Hague Apostille Convention.

In the United States, all 50 states and the Federal Government (US Department of State – Office of Authentication) can issue an Apostille.

Variants: also apostil \ ə-​ˈpäs-​təl, a-​pə-​ˈstēl \
Legal Definition of apostille:
1 archaic : a marginal note
2 : a document used in international law that is issued by a government in accordance with the Hague Convention and that certifies that another document has been signed by a notary public

History and Etymology for apostille:

Middle French, from apostiller to add notes, ultimately from Medieval Latin postilla note, probably from post illa (verba textus) after those (words of the text)

It’s always fun and interesting to learn something new. Right?

My sister needed to get apostilles for my niece’s birth certificate and college diploma. She’ll be teaching this year in Nicaragua. (I was thinking that we had to get documents apostilled. But, no, it’s not a verb.) From the information above, you can see that those things are issued by the Secretary of State, and that all 50 states can issue an apostille. The Secretary of State in Texas is, of course, in the state capital, Austin.

We went to Austin, which is only 100 miles away, and not a difficult trip. Interstate all the way.

First, we needed to get a copy of the the birth certificate, which was not exactly hard to get. Just time consuming. Some of the time consumed was trying to follow Siri’s instructions, and she was reasonably patient as I maneuvered around construction, many official buildings, and several parking lots, which did not have entrances and exits that meshed with Siri’s plan. She did keep saying, “There are construction areas, but you are going the fastest way.”

We eventually got to the building where the birth certificates are, went in, and took a number. Number 42. We looked at the illuminated number on the wall.

Two. Yes, number 2. Two. II. Forty numbers away from our number. Frankly, it went better than it might have. Nobody complained (at least not out loud). Folks waited their turns. Kids didn’t act up. Babies weren’t too fussy. But it did take two whole hours. At last, they called number 42, and JoAnne took her papers to a clerk.

When JoAnne was done, I got up and walked the few steps to the end of row where we’d been sitting. The man on the end of the row turned his whole body sideways so I could easily get past.

“Thank you,” I said. “The man who was sitting here when we arrived had his computer in his lap, and he stretched his legs all the way out, under the chair in front of him. No one could get by. We had to walk around him from the back, and scoot chairs out of the way. Thank you for being kind.” He grinned when I wished him a short stay.

Then we had to make our way to downtown Austin to the Secretary of State’s office. We drove around for a few minutes, trying to find a place to park. The parking garages were for tenants and employees of the buildings. There was on-the-street parking, but we drove around a few blocks without success. JoAnne said to let her out and try to find a place. As we pulled up to the door, TA-DAH, there was an empty spot.

We parked and got out and I put three quarters into the meter. Who knew how long it might take to get the apostilles for the documents.

Twelve minutes.

I hope someone, or a couple of someones, enjoyed having a pre-paid parking meter.

We got back in the car, and, before we pulled away, JoAnne put a request for the nearest In-And-Out Burger. Great trip.