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)
I’m not a fan of the Daylight Savings Time plan. Either way. Springing or Falling. I need days for my internal clock to reset itself, and I’m sleepy and weary for a week or so after the big day. Twice a year. But I know people who like it.
» Keep Reading
Sunday before last, I went to Fort Worth to keep Peter while April was spending time with her mom, who was having a couple of medical procedures done on Monday and Wednesday. Hah!
Monday, all of Fort Worth woke up to sleet and snow and freeeeezing temperatures and no work or school or traveling, and certainly no medical procedures. So, the only thing that happened was that Peter got bundled up and went outside with his parents to enjoy the unusual weather (while I stayed on the porch).
Things were still undecided on Tuesday (and thawing out), so I said I could go on home and come back when they needed me, and would it help if I took Peter back to Waco with me.
Aside: Ever since April got pregnant, Kevin has been asking me when I thought we’d be able to keep Peter for a night or so, so they could have a break/vacation/getaway. I said, not until he’s walking well and doesn’t have to be carried around all the time. Last fall, they came for a few days, to help a friend’s mom do some work at her home out in the country. One of those days, Peter was asleep when they got back to our house, and still asleep when they left in the morning. So, technically, we did a one-night sleepover with us and without them. I thought we could make it work this time.
Tuesday, over lunch, we decided that yes, it would help to have Peter away from the house for a couple of days, and April and I scurried around, me getting myself packed up (I only left my house shoes and a hanger behind), and April getting Peter packed up, trying to get us on the road before he fell asleep so he could nap in the car.
Tuesday night-FINALLY asleep!
Things went fine until Tuesday night bedtime. Ollie, Mollie, Gollie! He wept and sobbed and grieved-Mommy/Daddy/Mommy/Daddy, and for an hour or so, I rocked him and sang to him, until I was hoarse. I finally put him into the crib and said, “It’s time to go to sleep. I will rub your back; close your eyes.” He closed his eyes and put his darling little hands over his eyes to keep them closed, and he was so sweet, I got all mooshy schmooshy inside. But, I did think that, if this happened Wednesday night, too, he’d have to go right back home.
Watching the Waco snowfall on Wednesday morning.
But it didn’t; he was absolutely fine, for days. I talked to Kevin on Thursday and said things were going great, and Kevin said everything was on hold, medically, but April was getting lots of other important things done, and could Peter stay longer and I said, sure, we’ll bring him back Sunday after church.
We went to three libraries, one grocery store, one museum, twice to West Avenue Elementary School for Reading Club, and a trip to Target. But, no walks, no parks, no playing in the yard and not even any playing in the sand box in the garage. Tooooooo colllllld! But we did buy a set of construction trucks like he has at home. There, he plays with them in a sand box on the back porch or on a tray of dried beans inside. We got some rice instead and used Tupperware containers, not wanting to spend any time playing in the sand box in our frosty garage.
Granddad is an excellent playmate, and the instant he arrived home each evening, he was the preferred partner for dining, playing, bathtimes and bedtimes. Which made for restful evenings for me.
One of the funnier incidents: Early Saturday morning (before David had to go to a meeting), I made a quick trip to Target for more diapers. I spent several minutes looking at my numerous choices and got a small package of Huggies or Luvs or something, that had monkeys and purple designs on them, which I didn’t realize until I’d gotten them home and opened the plastic packaging. Too bad, I’d already torn open the package. But, they did what disposable diapers are supposed to do. Later, after the third trip to a library, we came home, David was home, and we had some lunch, and David put Peter down for a nap. About half an hour later, Peter came roaring out of the room, shouting, “I waked up, Granddad! I waked up!” He was waving the plastic packaging from the diapers. “I need throw this away,” he said soberly. So, what had happened was, he stayed in the crib for 5 minutes or so, then climbed out, got on the big bed, removed all the diapers from the package, strewing them all over the bed, looked at the package and developed a strategy that he hoped would fly. It did not. He did throw away the plastic, but then we kissed him good night once more, and put him back in the crib, with stern(ish) directives to stay in it and go to sleep. Which he did.
When we got home from Fort Worth Sunday evening, we came in, 
walked past the high chair, crunched over grains of rice on the floor, and walked by the room where the crib is. The little night-light was still on.
“It’s pretty quiet in here,” David said. And it was. In a good way, but in a lonesome way, too.
Two weeks from today, if you’re reading this on Friday, they’ll be here for a Waco ComicCon. I hope it’s warmer and we can move those trucks outside, because it will take me that long to get rid of all the rice on the floor.
Then, I think they’ll be here two weeks after that, for Easter. I’m grateful they live so close.
A couple of years ago, I went to a Christmas gathering which included one of those gift exchanges where everybody brings a gift. Then everyone gets a number. When it’s your turn, you choose a gift and open it, and everyone admires it. Then, the next person has the option of taking the wonderful gift you just opened, or choosing another still-wrapped gift and opening it. And it goes on until everyone has a lovely/funny/really interesting gift to take home to use/enjoy/regift to someone else, maybe at another one of those parties, where you might actually end up with that lovely/funny/interesting gift all over again. I’ve been at parties like that where the popular gift just keeps on getting swiped away, but most of the ones I attend now have a “three swipe” limit. So, if you’re the lucky third person to say to someone who used to like you, “Hey, hand that over to me,” you actually will get to go home with something you really want.
» Keep Reading
One afternoon last July, Kevin and April and Jeremy were here, trying to get some work done, and they suggested that they might be more
It seems to me that, from a toddler’s eye view, this would be a scary, deep, dark cavern, to be avoided at all costs. Apparently, toddlers are much more adventurous than I am. And they fit much better, too.
productive if Toddler Peter weren’t in the house, wanting to sit in their laps, around the table. So he and I went to WalMart. We walked into the store and toward the shopping carts, where Peter was thrilled to spy this tunnel-ish sort of walkway, thoughtfully provided by the WalMart people for the entertainment of little folks. He walked a little way in, could not be convinced to walk back towards me, so I had to wriggle in, grab him, and wriggle back out, where I popped him into a cart and strapped him in…securely, so we could go and get our shopping done.
» Keep Reading
This is another story about my Reading Club group at the elementary school. In December, we got a new member “Beth” (who seems quite healthy and I hate to call her Beth, but I’m at the last of Little Women names). She doesn’t need Reading Club, at all. Jo wanted her with us because they’re friends. She’s a great reader, which has had a completely unexpected result. The other girls were reluctant to read each session, and took their time, struggling with words and comprehension. The first time Beth read, she clipped through a couple of paragraphs, easily, and as she began the third paragraph, Meg jumped in and said, “I’m next.” Then Jo (my most reluctant participant) wanted to read. And now, they are always to eager to read aloud, they try very hard, and are ready to ask about new words and try to understand them, and are following the story really well.
I’ve never even tried these. They *smell* too hot for me.
And they all do have my number. Mrs. Lintz brings treats. I take Takis (TAH keys) every Tuesday and Wednesday (the “Fuego” variety, the hot kind, that they like best). There are cake pops for birthdays. And, for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I brought a jar of peanuts and packages of M&Ms and dried cranberries and yogurt raisins, and treat bags and funnels, and let them create their own holiday gift.
Last Tuesday, they had done practice state-mandated testing all morning, and were worn out. We read together, and as they left, someone said, “Takis?” Oh, no. I had forgotten. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Oh, that’s okay,” they said, so kindly, as they went off to join their classes for a well-deserved recess.
On my way home, I stopped at Target to get some small apples. I put them in the treat bags first (the mouths of those bags don’t seem narrow if you’re just dropping in candy, but they’re not really meant for apples, which I learned back at Halloween). Then I put in some Valentine’s candy and packed them up (along with Takis), to take on Wednesday.
At Wednesday lunch, Meg and Jo arrived first and were thrilled to tell me that they had passed the first part of the practice test that they had taken on Tuesday. A 68 for Jo and a 60 for Meg, just barely passing. (I know she must be frustrated, because if she were back in Mexico, I think she would be a top-level student, if she could always be working in Spanish). Beth came in, and, when asked, didn’t have her score from the day before. (Actually, I think that in her class, everyone always passes.) We talked a little bit about the future, what they wanted to do as adults. They didn’t really have any ideas. Jo said an older brother wanted to be a policeman; she might be “police,” too.
“That sounds great,” I said. “I can imagine you as a police officer.” And I can. She’s a tall girl and has a very serious stare that I think would cause any offender to cower.
But they were all soooo grateful to be done, at least until the real tests, in April. They were just bouncing off the walls, very hyper-energized. We read, a little, and then I said, “It seems really quiet out there in the cafeteria. (We meet on the stage, with the curtain drawn.) I wonder if your classes have gone outside, already.”
“Oh!” They looked at each other, and Meg jumped up and walked over to some chairs stacked by the wall (where, when she came in, she had said, “I just have to put something over here.”) She came back to the table and put down a heart-shaped box—Russell Stover.
“For me?” I asked.
They were soooo cute!
“We planned it together,” they said.
Meg and her mom had done the shopping, and she explained, “My mom said that if we get something paper, it might just get thrown away. But, this, you can keep it and put things in it.”
I don’t know what I’m going to put in my box (after the candy’s gone, which won’t take all that long). But it will be something very special and treasured, for certain.
Hatred starts fights, but love pulls a quilt over the bickering.
Proverbs 10:12 (The Message)
I wouldn’t call it “hate.” But there was a lot of mistrust from that “Jo” a year ago. She was never mean to me, but there wasn’t much eye contact, and she wanted me to know that she was cooperating because she wanted to, not because I asked. She gave off an “I don’t care about anything or much of anybody” attitude. This year, she’s still a strong personality, but less prickly around the edges. And I’m getting ‘waaaay more hugs these days, before I leave school each Tuesday and Wednesday.
A couple of weeks ago, I was cleaning up, and I gathered some things to toss in the blue recycle bin, which gets picked up every other Monday
Recyclables that I’m still reluctant to get rid of
(except, of course, for Monday holidays, when the alternate pickup day is Wednesday). There’s always the accumulated newspapers, junk mail, and the envelopes, etc. from the real mail. There was also a shoe box, a paper pulp egg carton, and some cardboard tubes from paper towels and wrapping paper and tape.
» Keep Reading
But, I don’t live someplace where the winters are fierce and long. I live someplace where winters are short and pretty mild. It never seems long enough, and I’m never really ready for spring when it hits. Okay, maybe it doesn’t hit. But it does jump in pretty quickly and intensely, and, two weeks later, summer arrives, and it does hit. Big.
I’m never ready for spring because I’m not ready to stop wearing my winter clothes. I wear the warm weather clothes for MONTHS! I am always weary of them by the time cool weather arrives, and cannot wait to wash them one last time and put them away for next year. Then, I have to get them out again, when the weather warms back up, wear them for a few more weeks, wash them, and put them away, again, for next year. Then, a couple of weeks later, I have to get them out again. I continue to let myself be fooled by that one morning when there’s a chill in the air that says fall is coming. I forget that the next day, the temperature will be in the 90’s again (or higher).
So, when winter really does settle in for good, in, say, November, I’m ready. And, truly, I’ve been shivering these past few January days, and drinking lots of hot tea, and making soup, and feeling pretty chilled most of the time. But it’s winter and it’s supposed to be that way! (And I completely understand that it’s easy for me to be happy with that wintery, bitter cold weather, because it lasted for about a week and a half, and yesterday, it was 72.)
But I like winter for other reasons.
And I really do enjoy what happens to the landscape.
I like that things don’t have to be watered nearly as much (and the water bill drops). And I like what happens to the trees.
God spoke: “Lights! Come out!
Shine in Heaven’s sky!
Separate Day from Night.
Mark seasons and days and years,
Genesis 1:14 (the Message)
And, I really do like the coziness of the early darkness in the winter months. I know it can be overwhelming and depressing and oppressive for folks who live in more northern latitudes than I. I might grow weary and stir-crazy if winter lasted longer than the comparative brief time it does here in Waco, Texas. But honestly, I’m never quite ready for it to end. I usually keep a couple of sweaters and heavy shirts in the closet longer than is reasonable, just in case.
I know, all of you who live beyond the mildness of Central Texas smirk and roll your eyes when we talk about how
The big coat AND the pashmina, which I didn’t realize I needed until I got one (and went to New York one October).
» Keep Reading
After graduating from high school, my dad moved off to Columbus, Ohio, and started college. He lived under the Ohio State football stadium.
Ohio State’s stadium (ca. 1940), home to the Stadium Scholarship Program
As part of the Stadium Scholarship program, young men could live in the make-shift housing, do chores to help defray living costs, and afford a college education. The program still exists, even though the students no longer live under the stadium.
» Keep Reading
It’s fun to visit different places and experience different kinds of things and see how people live in different ways. In New York City, in November, there were all sorts of different and new things.
» Keep Reading