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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)

It Feels Like Some of the Old Year Is Still Hanging Around.

| Joy, Kindness, Love

Post-Christmas and holidays, and things are settling down back into normal, or usual. But the memories are still fresh.

Last Christmas, I found a notebook that had one of those sequin covers where the sequins can be brushed one way or the other to create designs. The sequins were black in one direction and gold in the other, and Peter enjoyed creating ominous black clouds on the covers. I’ve seen more and more of those sorts of items in the ensuing months. I’ve thought they were intriguing, but I wasn’t interested in buying another sequined item until I was at the HEB last month. This large pillow seemed like another compelling item for family fun. Basically, brushed one way, there are green wedges and white wedges. Brushed the other way, there are red wedges and white wedges. Peter discovered that he could make a spiral. And, if you’re really careful and concentrating, you can have a green/red version. Rather mesmerizing.

It seems that my consistent struggle with chilly temps has been taken to heart by family members. I got a muff, hand made hand warmers, handwarmers, and, that black thing that looks like a computer mouse is an electronic, rechargeable handwarmer. Toasty days ahead for me!

And, I also got some books, to warm my soul.

I’ve talked before about Peter’s interest in The Great British Baking Show, which I watch when I’m walking on my treadmill. And he will encourage me to take a break from whatever I happen to be doing so I can have my walk. (And he can watch bakers.) His most recent idea is that we should have our own Great Baking Show, and has created an imaginary kitchen, stage, and bakers to be contestants on that program. “We’ll ask them to make a cake,” he suggested. “A two-layer cake. No!” he changed his mind. “We’ll ask them to bake just one layer, and then they’ll have to slice it in half. The bakers have a hard time slicing a layer in half,” he says, knowingly. He likes to make things challenging for our imaginary bakers. He wanted a brown sugar cake, which I had to go online to find a recipe for. And he wanted vanilla frosting in the center. I suggested a browned butter frosting, since it might look prettier with the brown sugar cake. Then, we made dark and white chocolate stars for the top. Just because.

I’ve recently read this biography of Fred Rogers. His growing-up years were interesting to learn about. His family was a wealthy one, and his parents quietly helped employees in their company who might have been struggling with overwhelming bills, and made sure that needs were met. They supported their son, and later a daughter, too, in their interests, and provided a strong spiritual foundation. Fred had imagined that he would grow up to be a Presbyterian minister. Thank goodness he went the early childhood route!

I really enjoyed the book, and recalled hearing Mr. Rogers’ songs played every weekday morning in our house when the boys were preschoolers. And I wondered if the library might have some Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood videos. Of course they did. I got one, planning to introduce Peter to the the charm and delight of Mister Rogers.

Peter stayed in Waco for several days after his parents went back to Fort Worth, and, that first morning, I explained about the program that his dad and Uncle Jeremy had watched. Peter was uninterested. “I don’t want to watch that,” he said. “We’re watching it,” I said. He whined. I reminded him that I am always doing the things that he asks me to do and, this time, it’s my turn. “We’re watching it,” I said.

Peter groaned and got up on the day bed and barricaded himself behind pillows. I started the video, and Fred Rogers came through his door, singing, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?”

“I wonder what he’s carrying?” I said. (It was a pasta maker. Mister Rogers always brings in something interesting.) By the time Mister Rogers had sat down and taken off his street shoes and put on his tennis shoes, Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling. We watched the whole episode, and, by time the second episode began, Peter was sitting in my lap. A Fred Rogers convert.

Meanwhile, I just put away the last of the Christmas boxes on Wednesday.

 

 The Lord‘s unfailing love and mercy still continue, Fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise.

Lamentations 3:22-23 (Good News Translation)

“Fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise.” That seems like a wonderful way to welcome in a nice, new year.

 

 

 

Am I Awesome or Am I Not?

| Kindness, Self-Control

Several years ago, I was part of a team working with a church to help organize and improve their Sunday School. There were four age-group people (adult, youth, children, and preschool [me]), and we had a team leader, who, I think, was a Minister of Education. We were members of various churches around the country, and I don’t even remember where we were working.

Our team leader had a phrase that he really liked to use. And use, and use, and use. He wanted people to “buy into” whatever it was that he was talking about at the time, like the ideas we were suggesting, the locations of teaching rooms, the enlistment of new teachers, and that sort of thing. We were at the church for a whole week, with each team member meeting with their age-group teachers and staff people. The team leader met with the pastor and other workers, both staff and volunteers. At the end of the week, we all came together, team and church members, to present the ideas and plans and to think about how the church could implement the things they had planned. Our team’s members sat at the back of the group.

I’d heard the phrase “buy into it” so many times during the week that when our Team Leader began to present and explain all the details, I had a pen and paper pad out, for taking notes, and, honestly, for keeping count of how many times he asked folks to “buy into” the plans. Many years have gone by, and I cannot recall exactly how many tick marks I made during the 40-minute presentation. But there was at least one per minute and some minutes had two, or more. I am not making this up. (I was also, sort of, taking notes, so as not to seem so obvious as to call attention to my documentation.) Then we bowed our heads as our Team Leader prayed. And, I promise you, I am NOT inventing this or recalling it wrong: when the man prayed, he actually asked God to buy into our plans! Seriously. And I am truly embarrassed to tell you that I could not hold back a snicker, which I quickly tried to cover with a pretty serious and extended cough.

I really wanted to send the man a Thesaurus, anonymously, of course, with pages marked at places where other words like accept, agree, confirm, endorse, and  recommend would be good choices.

Anyway, I recently remembered this guy when I attended a large training event with some other people from my church. We listened to a few, brief, speakers, who had encouraging words for us. Then, the primary speaker talked, giving us ideas for the work we were going to be doing and suggestions for supplies and for how to teach. That woman apparently knows only one superlative word: AWESOME!

About halfway into her presentation, I was so very sorry that I didn’t have a pen in my hand, because I would love to have known how many times she used the word. She used it when she talked about our opportunities, she used it when she talked to other people on the stage, she used it when she shared examples of things we could and should use when we talked and taught. I want to send her a Thesaurus.

And then, of course, I began to pay more attention to the words I use and the things I say. My “superlative” word is, apparently, amazing. We’ve recently had an amazing amount of rain, here. Our pretty, solar, outside Christmas lights are amazing. (Actually they haven’t been very amazing recently because we had all that amazing rain, and the solar cells cannot power themselves up unless there’s sunshine.) The Thursday after Christmas, David and Peter and Kevin went to Thursday LateNight at the Mayborn museum. April and I went to see the new Spiderman movie, which had gotten really good reviews. It was, as you might expect, amazing. (It is, after all, Spiderman!)

Now I’m thinking I need to retire “amazing” for a while, and try to expand my vocabulary use.

Looking at “A” words, there’s: astounding, astonishing, admirable, ambitious, awe-inspiring, august (dignified, noble, grand), A-1, accomplished, adroit (very able, skilled). I’m thinking that, if “amazing” is the first thing that pops into my mind, “astounding” and “astonishing” might be the easier to pull up into my head as I try to increase my vocabulary.

 

The right word at the right time is like precious gold set in silver.

Proverbs 25:11 (Contemporary English Version)

 

I’m not usually invested in New Year’s resolutions, because, I guess, I’ve never been all that successful at keeping or maintaining them for any length of time. But, I think I’ll spend some time this year trying to increase the variety of words I use.

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Note: I was writing this and also watching the Baylor Women’s Basketball Team play UConn, the #1 team in the country. Baylor (#8) led from the beginning, ultimately beating UConn by 11 points. Near the end of the game, David walked by and said, “Are you watching the game?” And I said, “Amazing.” Looks like it might take a while to break the amazing habit.

 

 

 

 

Yarn Yarns

| Faithfulness, Kindness, Patience

 

 

The living room, when the yarn first arrived.

The room where I emptied out *all* the large bags and worked to organize everything. It felt as though any nice yarn shop could have gone into business with the inventory that I had in my guest room.

I’ve mentioned before, a couple of times or so, the twenty large bags of my Mother-in-law’s yarn that David brought home after his sisters had cleaned out and organized the house after her death. There were 40 bags, but he couldn’t get them all in the car. He had packed the trunk and the car, up to the lower edges of the windows. At our house, they filled the living room.

Eventually, I moved it all into the guest room. I had consolidated all the yarns, finding the same colors and types of yarn and putting them into zip-locking bags, to make it easier for the folks in my knitting/crochet group to locate yarns they were interested in and being able to determine if there was enough for whatever project they were hoping to complete. They meet twice a month, and each time, I took three, four, or five bags

In October, I mentioned the yarn again, saying this: “Tuesday, I took three more big bags of very nice yarn (mostly cotton and wool, this time) to the Knitting and Crocheting group, thanks to David’s mom’s yarn-buying habit. I think one more trip might get them all into the hands of those crafty ladies.” Hah. Here it is, looking January in the face, and I still have yarn.

 

When Jeremy and Sarah came for Thanksgiving (and were scheduled to stay in the guest room), I moved everything to the only spare place I had: my car. Large, black bags of wools and wool blends, and large white bags of man-made materials (acrylics, nylons, that sort of thing) were stuffed into the trunk, filling it up completely, front to back, side to side. Using the two colors of bags helped the yarn workers know which bag they should be searching, to find the kinds of yarn they were interested in. Cottons went into the back seat. I felt like a mobile yarn store. The second Tuesday and the fourth Thursday of each month, I opened up the trunk, pulled out three or fours bags and toted them into our meeting spaces.

Many members of the group knit and/or crochet furiously, daily, to create items for helping agencies around town. Hats for the homeless in our area, shawls and lap-sized afghans for people in nursing homes and rehab facilities, warm “chemo” hats, for cancer patients going through chemotherapy, scarves for participants and families involved in Special Olympics, tiny hats for newborns in local hospitals, hats for young children who attend the therapeutic nursery in our town, and other things I don’t even know about.

People also choose yarns for gifts for family members, and for items they will create for themselves. Because the yarns my mother-in-law purchased are of better quality that those that might be available at Wal-Mart, the yarn-workers are able to make nicer items for themselves and their families. Several people choose skeins of 100% wool because they are learning felting techniques (which require wool), and wool is more costly than acrylic yarn.

There’s a senior adult lady who lives on a meager, fixed income. She makes things that she sells at a monthly craft fair, to earn a little extra. For a while, she’ll be able to keep all the money she gets, because she hasn’t had to buy yarn. And, some things will sell for a little higher price, because the yarn is a better quality than she can afford to buy.

One young member’s spouse is out of work. She has a part-time job, but it’s not enough. She’s furiously making items to sell at a regular craft fair in a nearby town. Free yarn for her work! It’s making a difference.

If, at the end of a yarn group meeting, there is any yarn left, the group’s leader will take it to a woman who is home-bound, on chemotherapy. She knits the yarn into items for a local abuse shelter. She makes toys, hats, blankets, and anything else the shelter needs.

At church, we put out devotional books a few times during the year. Different people are asked to contribute pieces, and they are printed up for us to have, and they are also posted online each day during the season, too. A couple of weeks before Christmas, I read one by a church member that I don’t know. At the end of each devotional piece, the writers are asked to write a one-or-two sentence biographical blurb. This writer said that her hobbies were “voracious reading and crochet.” CROCHET!!  After that week’s worship service, I asked a couple of people if they knew her. Nope. Then, as I was about to leave, one of those folks came and said, “That lady over there in the green flowered shirt. That’s her.” “Did you just go around, asking people if they knew who she was?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said, as though it was the most sensible way to solve the problem, which, of course, it was. I gave up too soon.

I went over and she said, “Gayle! I heard you were looking for me.” I said, yes, that I had read her devotional, and I saw she liked to crochet. She said, yes, and I said, “I have yarn.” I explained the whole mother-in-law thing, and she said she’d love to come over and look at it, and I said, “Oh, no. It’s in my car.” She looked skeptical, as though Who would drive around with very much yarn in their car. I said, “My trunk is full of wool and acrylics and the back seat is full of cotton.” We went straight out to the parking lot to the car.

She was delighted. As she burrowed through it all, she turned to a friend who was with me (we were on our way to my house to make Christmas cookies). She said to my friend, “Do you do needlework? Don’t you want some of this?” “Oh,” said my friend. “I was the first one who got to go through it. I took home four tote bags full of yarn.”

I talked to my sister last week. Thursday, I sent off two large envelopes of yarn to Seattle. She’s not going to knit it, but my brother-in-law is. And my niece.

 

And now, there are two bagsfull still in the trunk, and two handle bags full of the cotton yarn, transferred from the back seat. There’s also a box of yarns that have been partially used and have no label, so knitters might struggle to know the exact size and weight of the yarn, the fiber content, and the care instructions. But they might be great for practicing new stitches, designs, and ideas.

 

 

Another trip or two to knitting/crochet group, and I should be yarn-free. I did keep a couple of things for myself, but, really, I already had some yarn.

 

 

 

She keeps herself busy making wool and linen cloth.

Proverbs 31:13 (Good News Translation)

   

and with her own hands she gladly makes clothes.

Proverbs 31:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands.

Proverbs 31:13 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

She searches out continually to possess that which is pure and righteous.
    She delights in the work of her hands

Proverbs 31:13 (The Passion Translation)

  

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing.

Proverbs 31:13 (The Message)

I usually compare different translations, which have the same content, but I like to see what the different word choices are as I choose. I have to admit, I do like The Message’s translation best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like I Need to Get Busy

| Joy, Patience, Peace

Does anyone ever feel like they’re completely ready for the birthday, the graduation, the big event, the whatever’s going on? It just always seems like there’s one more thing I need to do. Or, worse, one more thing that I’d forgotten I should do. It seems like I’m ready, but I suspect that there will be that Oh, No! moment when I remember that I’m NOT ready. I made cookies with a friend last weekend, and mine are in the freezer. I’ve mailed off all but one of the packages that needs to go. I’ve worked on Christmas cards (don’t you like to get them, surprise-like, a few days after Christmas?). The stockings are crammed full. I’ve put together most of the parts of our Christmas lasagna. The room where Kevin and April stay when they are here is getting close to being “guest-ready.” I might need to go to the grocery store tomorrow, and maybe the next day and the next.

Meanwhile, last weekend I went to Fort Worth for April’s graduation ceremony on Friday. Then, on Saturday, I went off to one of my favorite places to shop, the amazing grocery store Central Market. The main entrance opens onto the fresh foods area. It’s enormous. I got some apples. It was pretty chilly in that part. I walked around the corner where the meat market is, but it was really cold in there, so I turned around.

There are many vegetarian shoppers at the store, and they complained at some point about having to walk through the meat department (which includes live lobsters) to reach the other parts of the store. So, a while back, they cut an additional doorway from the fresh food section into the personal care area. I did go that way, and it’s where I get the soap I like. But, by then, I was pretty chilled.

They use the best bags there. I always try to remember to take my own reusable bags; I sometimes forget. But, since the bags are these nice, brown paper, handled bags, I save them and use them for all sorts of things. Here are my lovely apples, Snap Dragon, and Autumn Glory and Green Dragon.

 

At home, I’ve tried to sprout “micro-greens,” like I did for Thanksgiving a few years ago. I’m not having much success this time. The micro-greens aren’t sprouting particularly well, and they are all leggy. I don’t really think the mushroom spores were included in the seed packet. I guess they just wafted in from somewhere. I pulled these out, but another, tiny one has come up. Maybe our Christmas dinner salad will be micro-green-free.

 

 

 

Shout praises to the Lord! Praise God in his temple. Praise him in heaven, his mighty fortress.

Praise our God! His deeds are wonderful, too marvelous to describe.

Praise God with trumpets and all kinds of harps.

Praise him with tambourines and dancing, with stringed instruments and woodwinds.

Praise God with cymbals, with clashing cymbals.

Let every living creature praise the Lord. Shout praises to the Lord!

Psalm 150 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

How lovely that, just when we need to feel thankful to God for Jesus, here is this very nice Psalm that we can use.

I Prefer the Term “Efficient”

| Joy, Patience

A less kind person might say that I’m rather lazy. I must admit that I’m always searching for the way that’s less trouble, no-so-involved, easier, etc. Efficient.

Years ago, in our other house, I created a large swag made of pine and holly (the artificial kind), and hung it across the top of the large doorway between our living and dining rooms. I added a string of small, white Christmas lights. Over the years, I purchased clear, plastic ornaments meant to be attached to those lights. It’s lovely. One year, I found an apparatus designed to be plugged in to an outlet, and the other end was a metal snowflake. You touched the snowflake to turn those little lights on, and you touched it again to turn the lights off. It was handy, even though the plug, in that house, was easy to reach.

Now, in the house where we currently live, the swag goes around the large windows at the front of the house. The Christmas tree sits in front of that window. The only plug on that wall is right behind the tree, and therefore difficult to reach. The you-only-have-to-touch-it snowflake is extra handy now, and I touch it every morning to turn on the lights. Easy-peasy. And, there’s a step-on button at the bottom of the Christmas tree that turns on those lights. Efficient.

There are also two candle lights in the windows. We are careful, as we prepare to decorate each year, to plug those in at exactly six o-clock, p.m. They come on, the stay lit for 6 hours, then they go off. And, for the rest of the season, that’s the routine for them. On at six. Off at midnight. Efficient.

For all the years we lived in the other house, we never did any outdoor decorating. When we moved, I began to consider it. The next-door neighbors particularly loved Halloween. They also put up stuff for Christmas. Some others did, too. Not tons and tons of lights and stuff, but enough to make the street look merry in the evenings. I wanted to do some decorating, but, remember, I’m, um, efficient. I didn’t want strings of lights that had to be put up on the roof, unplugged and replugged each evening and morning, and then removed again in January. We don’t have space for those lit metal figures that would have to be stored for eleven months of the year. And I just didn’t want to try to tackle those large, inflatable figures. I found the answer at Target. Solar lights. Seemed perfect for the person who is, um, efficient.

I bought some.

They have these little solar collectors, which must get lots of sunlight during the day. Then, the lights come on at dark, and shine for several hours. They lose their power at some point in the night. Then, you hope, they gather up enough sun for the next night. One set of our lights are hung on a pine swag across the wrought iron rail along the porch. They are working fine. The lights (here on the right-hand side) are on a mesh sort of arrangement, and they have not worked at all this year. I know it’s not a lack of sunlight, as the two solar collectors are right next to each other, as you can see (over there on the left-hand-side).

So, the mesh-set ones are out. I found some snowflake-shaped ones and ordered them. They just arrived today (Thursday), and are, therefore, outside, powering themselves up. I also bought a plain set for the holly hedge across the front of the house. I’ll have to let you know next time how everything’s working.

Oh, ’tis the season!

 

 

 

Here, on the left, is what the railing swag looks like. This is, of course, a flash photo, since I didn’t think about it during the daylight hours.

On the right, you can just barely see the little solar lights on the swag. They look brighter if you’re actually walking or driving by. And, I don’t really know how long each evening the lights stay on. I’ve gone to bed long before they use themselves up. But, you can see in the photo the two candle lights in the window, some of the lights from the tree, and at the top and down the side, the lights from the swag that easily turns on with the touch of a snowflake.

 

 

The only drawback, and it happened for a couple of nights earlier in the week, is that it only takes a couple of cloudy days to completely shut down the solar lights. So I guess it’s not a great choice for places in the northern reaches of our country, where the days are so much shorter. And, not so good in places where it’s overcast for much of the winter months. But, for us here in Texas, there’s usually lots more sunny days that cloudy ones. Perfect for someone who’s, you know, not exactly lazy, but … efficient.

 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17 (Christian Standard Bible)

 

Every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father who created all the lights in the heavens. He is always the same and never makes dark shadows by changing.

James 1:17 Contemporary English Version (CEV)

 

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

James 1:17 Contemporary English Version (CEV)

 

Every gift[a] God freely gives us is good and perfect,[b] streaming down from the Father of lights,[c] who shines from the heavens with no hidden shadow or darkness[d] and is never subject to change.

James 1:17 (The Passion Translation)

 

Everytime somebody give you someting nice an spesho, all dat come from yoa Fadda up dea inside da sky. He wen make all da lights inside da sky — da sun, an moon, an stars. But God no change jalike da tings inside da sky.

James 1:17 (Hawai’i Pidgin)

 

 

Beautiful lights. Just one part of a beautiful Christmas celebration.

 

 

I Do Some Things Better Than Others

| Joy, Love, Patience

As a senior adult, I’m growing accustomed to being a little bit (or a lot) behind on things. I don’t know that I’m up-to-date on much of anything beyond what medications older folks are taking these days, and what’s new in Baby Boomer-related issues, such as Medicare, Social Security, and those sorts of things.

But, I was a little bit dismayed when Kevin sent me a link last week after reading last week’s post about the issue of “that’s a great question.” The link relates to a podcast about that same issue. It was dated “January 15, 2015.” Yes, I’m almost four years late noticing it.

However, do know that the podcast is really interesting, and you should listen to it.

So, I’m not necessarily up on all things current. But, I do get some things done.

I like to rake. Mowers (and Edgers and Leaf Blowers) have been coming on Tuesday mornings since springtime to mow and tidy up the yard. A couple of weeks ago, I said I thought it was time for the winter break from yard work, and the guy in charge brought up the leaf issue. He wants to mow the leaves to shreds. I want to rake them up. I reminded him that I like to rake, and that we have a compost where I put them. For every bowl of peelings and cores (and things that have sat too long in the crisper) that I dump into the compost container, I add an armful of leaves. After a year, I leave Bin #1 to decay,  and I pull the nice, composted stuff that’s been percolating in Bin #2 out, to put into the garden. Then, I start adding stuff to the newly emptied Bin #2.

 

 

 

For years, Christmas crackers have been part of our holiday celebration. Sometimes, I can find them in local stores. Sometimes, I order them. This year, we put up the tree and decorated it the day after Thanksgiving, because everyone was here to help. Then, for the next days, and days, I got down a Christmas storage box and put out things. One box every few days. And I thought, Oh, do I need to order, or search for, crackers? Finally, a couple of days ago, I took down the big red basket that holds a variety of holiday things. And, there, TA-DAH, was a box of crackers, purchased, I suppose, a few days after Christmas, on sale probably!

 

 

Along with some other folks from my church, I volunteer each week as a Reading Buddy at an elementary school close to church. Every Tuesday, three second graders spend their lunch time, half an hour, with me, reading, to try to bring their reading skills up to grade level. We started in October. The information I got said that the kids were reading at Level 1, which turned out to be, um, mostly inaccurate. I have one girl who was in my reading group last year. She was reading behind the other two girls’ abilities, but tried hard. This year, she’s the star reader, mainly because the other two kids are way behind. There’s a boy who struggles with the simplest words. There’s another girl who, and I’m not exaggerating, could not read the words “the,” and “and.” That’s not a Level 1 reader. So now I’m choosing the 0.4 and 0.6 books, which still are not easy for those two.

I made some word cards. First thing last Tuesday, I laid out a sentence that began with the struggling girl’s name. I helped her read the words that were hard for her. Then, I put out the words for the boy, and he read his sentence, with help. Then, the last girl had a sentence three times longer than the other sentences, which she read pretty easily, as the others looked on. Then we moved on to our book, and each kid read a two-page spread (just a few words appear on each page). And by the end of lunch, that first little girl read, all by herself, “and” and “the,” every time they showed up!! AND, she read the word “wait,” which she had seen several times, as the book is about waiting.

We now have read all the 0.4-0.6 books that are on the shelves for the Reading Buddies to use. I think this week I’ll need to write a book about three second graders who like to read and eat lunch and go to school. (I plan to use the words “and” and “the” several times.)

 

 

Put your heart and soul into every activity you do, as though you are doing it for the Lord himself and not merely for others.

Colossians 3:23 (The Passion Translation)

 

Of course, it’s not all that difficult to put one’s heart and soul into every activity if it’s interesting and fun and satisfying.

 

Is It REALLY a Great Question?

| Patience

I’ve been noticing for a while, quite a while, I guess, what seems to be a bit of a change in question/answer situations. When a well-know person (in acting, in government, in a leadership position) is being interviewed by the press or voters or people who are simply interested, here’s what I’m hearing: “(Question gets asked)” and interviewee responds, “That’s a great question.” And, they then answer, explain, inform.

I hear it over and over again. “That’s a great question.” Sometimes, it’s only “That’s a good question.” But, the almost identical response happens. Again and again. No matter how many questions are asked, no matter what the particular topic, the interviewee almost always says: “That’s a good/great question.”

I wonder if the agents, support staff, or mothers, are giving the advice that says, “Always affirm the person who’s asking you a question. Let them know that you’ve heard what they asked and that you think it’s important, whether you think that or not.”

And I suppose it’s pretty good advice. When the hoi polloi are seeking answers and/or information, being treated with respect can go a long way toward getting elected, having one’s books purchased, or choosing to attend the touted play, movie, lecture, or meeting.

As with anything, too much repetition of a word or phrase can make the expression sound trite, which might make the listeners loose interest, turn a deaf ear, or completely ignore the response. I’ve been hearing, “That’s a great question” for months. And months. And months.

So, I have some suggestions:

“That’s an interesting question.”

“That’s an intriguing question.”

“I’m glad you asked me that.”

“That’s a topic I really enjoy talking about.”

“I’ve been doing some research about that very topic.”

“I was hoping someone would bring that up.”

“What a splendid question!”

“That’s a worthy question.”

“Super question. Thanks for asking it.”

Thesaurus.com‘s top thirteen synonyms for “good” are:

 

 

 

I admit, I don’t quite get the “bad” reference, unless it’s akin to “you’re so bad, you’re good.” And, “acceptable” seems a little wishy-washy. But I’m fond of “marvelous,” “superb,” and “valuable.”  Of course, after the interviewee has said, “That’s a valuable question,” they’d better have a really solid answer that proves the value of their information.

I do understand that often times, the people who are being interviewed have been interviewed scores and scores of times about their new movie, new job, race for office, desire for a new job or promotion, or more. They have responses and answers that they may have given lots of times. They’re pretty weary, I imagine. But, they might be able to learn a few more adjectives to help their listeners stay engaged. And, if they’ve said “That’s a great question,” then they’d better be sure that they’re going to give a great response.

 

It’s stupid and embarrassing to give an answer before you listen.

Proverbs 18:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

And it’s also stupid and embarrassing to make up an answer if you don’t know what the actual answer is.

 

 

 

 

I’m Not All that Great a Gardener

| Faithfulness, Joy, Patience

Years ago, when we lived in our house that was built in 1912, I saw an idea for a small, compact garden, described in a women’s magazine. A ring garden. The plans said to dig up a nine-foot circle. Then, with metal stakes and wire mesh, we made a three-foot diameter compost area in the center. The plans gave specific instructions for what to plant and where, in the ring garden, with the plants that needed staking at the edge of the compost (like beans and tomatoes). Plants that needed the most moisture and nutrients were planted closer to the center. Plants needing less, were planted closer to the edges. The suggestion was to pour a bucket of water into the center, compost area, once or twice a week, if it didn’t rain. We followed the instructions to the letter. This, however, was a garden plan for some other part of the country–someplace where it rained more and the summer wasn’t scorching hot. We got some beets, I think, but not much else. We kept putting peelings into the compost, along with the errant squash or tomato that got left behind on a garden plant. Then, in the spring, as suggested by the magazine article, we pulled compost from the center and dug it into the garden to begin anew.

And, we did begin anew, but with seeds and plants that we knew we liked–summer squash and zucchini, tomatoes, and cucumbers.

Early one spring, I saw a little vine pushing from the edges of the compost bin. Obviously a squash, it was growing, I imagined, from something spoiled or bug-eaten that had been tossed into the compost the previous summer. Deep in the warmth, with rotting leaves and vegetable peelings, the seed germinated, and the sprouting plant pushed out into the sunlight. I watched as it grew, more vigorous than the squash vines I had started in the garden. It thrived, flowered, and began to set fruit. Hmmm. The two little round, green fruit on our vine were certainly not summer squash or zucchini, the only kinds of squash we plant and eat. I wondered what they were, thinking hard to recall some other kind of squash we might have had.

The squash grew bigger and greener and rounder, and I grew more and more perplexed. Not knowing what they were, I didn’t know when pull them from the vine. Then they began to turn orange.

One year, we planted cantaloupe. I think this was the total harvest. But, that is the ring garden, behind the boys.

Oh. Of course. Pumpkins. From last Thanksgiving.

When they were completely ripe, I picked and cooked and froze them. The next Thanksgiving, we enjoyed pumpkin bread and pumpkin pie from our surprise pumpkins.

 

A tree is identified by the kind of fruit it produces. Figs never grow on thorns, or grapes on bramble bushes.

Luke 6:44 (The Living Bible)

 

Squash, however, come in many varieties, most of whom grow on vines that look deceptively alike. Sometimes, you just have to wait and see what shows up.

One year, we had several volunteer tomato plants, scattered around in the ring garden. And, another year, the little garden was rife with, oh, yes, pumpkin plants. They are pretty aggressive, those pumpkins.

Brrrrr

| 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.

 

 

 

They’re Just Birds, After All

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Peace

We’ve had some problems around here, over the months and years, with birds. City birds. Grackles. For several years, they’ve been congregating, especially in the evenings, around intersections where there’s lots of traffic and lots of people, especially in places where people are having fast food and leaving crumbs. And dropped French fries. And crusts of buns. Etc.

I think all the instinctive behavior of eating, like finding worms and bugs, has given way to the easy route of people food. I don’t know what the biological issues are. Maybe they’re just as healthy, living on a diet of food from McDonald’s and Wendy’s and Jack in the Box. It seems like not, but they’re thriving, from a population standpoint. This is not a phenomenon I recall from my childhood, or even my kids’ childhoods. But, it’s certainly part of Peter’s childhood.

My local grocery store, years ago, planted attractive trees at the ends of the rows of parking spaces closest to the store’s doors. They didn’t provide much shade, but they looked nice, and, in time, they might have made some shade. But, after a few years, the grocery store folks cut them down. There was a whitewash of bird poop under all the trees, and also on cars that had parked at the ends of the rows. Messy and unattractive. There are some trees growing at the farthest ends of some of the rows. And, I do park there, in the heat of the summer. It’s an acceptable trade-off for me. I have to walk through the heat, and I might have to clean off the windows, but at least the car’s not scorching hot, May through September, when I get in with my groceries.

Lack of lots of trees doesn’t mean that the birds have left the area. Nope. They have not conceded.

Here’s what those annoying, pesky birds do instead. As soon as the sun gets close to the horizon, they gather themselves up, from whatever fast food restaurants they’ve been hanging around, and arrange themselves on the utility wires. And they sit there. Until the sun goes down. If you watch them for a while, you’ll see that a few of them fly away, or swoop around, and then settle back into place. If there is an empty space, a bird will drop down into it. If a bird tries to land in a space that’s not really big enough (from the birds’ reckoning), the other birds won’t give up their place. The interloping bird will have to fly away, swoop around, and find a new settling place. But, for the most part, they just sit there. Staring down at the humankind, driving, walking, jogging down below. It’s been like this for years, but it still seems creepy to me. Many years ago, I was driving my dad home after a dinner together. I commented on the precise spacing between the birds. (And, my dad passed away more than ten years ago, so, again, not a new thing the birds are doing.) Daddy looked at them carefully and said, “I suppose it’s the amount of space that they need to take off.” That does seem right, doesn’t it?

 

Meanwhile, when Peter was here a month or so ago, I was driving him to the Baylor area to meet David for their Thursday evening “Late Night at the Mayborn” museum rendezvous. We drove through Chick-fil-a to get them some dinner, and there are many fast food places in the area. So, of course, birds were gathering on the wires for their eveningtime meet-and-greet.

“Look, Mimi,” Peter said, calling my attention to the CVS pharmacy sign. “There are so many birds, I think they’re going to fall off.”

Indeed. Pharmacy birds apparently do not need the same amount of space for perching as do the other birds. Or, maybe, as Peter suggested to me, it’s just warmer up on that lighted sign than it is on the wires.

 

 

Look, if you sold a few sparrows, how much money would you get? A copper coin apiece, perhaps? And yet your Father in heaven knows when those small sparrows fall to the ground. You, beloved, are worth so much more than a whole flock of sparrows. God knows everything about you, even the number of hairs on your head. So do not fear.

Matthew 10:29-31 (The Message)

And I guess I’m also supposed to consider what it means that I am worth so much more than a whole flock of sparrows. If I’m worth that much, then so are each and every one of my brothers and sisters who are walking in this world.