The Christmas Nod

this has nothing to do with my post, but he is adorable!

Most people who know me know that I am a Christian. By that I mean that I go to church, try to serve in some way, and I pray about the important stuff. A good day starts with some Bible reading, but I am no scholar and I read in fits and starts. Most of the time I have a nagging suspicion that following Christ may involve more than my occasional nod.

This isn't going to be some self-deprecating post where I flail myself and vow to do better. I just wonder if I am all that different than everyone else.

Christmas brings these thoughts out in me. It doesn't help that I know that Jesus wasn't really born on December 25th and that the wise men didn't show until a couple years later. The gifts I give don't really have their origins in the tradition of the manger, but they come from the traditions of my childhood where Christmas was one of the best days of the year. I love to pick things out for my husband and kids, but I don't give Jesus a second thought when I do it.

This year we have been blessed beyond belief with the generosity of others, which I guess makes me stop and consider a little more. We will go to our Christmas Eve service and say Merry Christmas to the people who mean so much. I will get misty as we sing the carols and truly marvel in my heart at the mystery of God Incarnate. I will smile at my girls as we light our candles because we share a little joke about the endless instructions we get each year for sharing the flame. That is my Christmas nod.

The rest of our traditions revolve around food and gifts and the love of family. Christmas stockings, Christmas tree gifts, breakfast, Christmas dinner (game hens this year), and a movie in the afternoon. While I couldn't ask for more, I think I could offer more. That is my prayer, that I can do more than give Jesus a polite nod and a courteous smile, although for the life of me I don't know what it would be.

I will let you know how it  goes.

Loving Our Inner Doggy

This is something I wrote about our dog. We had to say goodbye today.


I have heard more than one sermon about how our relationship with Christ should be like a dog's to his master. The way  dogs are completely loyal and unquestioning.  A dog's way of greeting his master with enthusiasm and the desire a dog has to alway be with his master. 

Nice. If you like that sort of thing.

I have loads of respect for the nobility and integrity of dogs, but frankly their goody-two-shoe ways have always annoyed me. If you come to our house Randy will probably show off with our dog, Riley. Randy tells him to sit and stay, then he throws bits of food around the room. Riley will sit there until Randy says, "OK!" Then the dog runs and snarfs up the food  like it was the last food on earth and comes back for more 

Here is what I would say to Riley if it would make a difference: "Get some dignity, it is only scraps of  whole wheat toast. Just go lay down and act like you don't care. Seriously!" 

However, a couple of days ago Riley did something that pretty accurately illustrates my relationship with Christ. We took him to the park for a long walk. Because he is an old and trustworthy dog, we let him off his leash as we took a trail through the woods. Randy and I strolled along with Riley trotting ahead. The waning sun dappled the path before us as the birds sang their evening song. Ahh, perfect evening. Just me, my man, and our faithful dog.

About that time a deer crashes across the path in front of us. Riley gave a quick glance toward us as if to say, "Holy cow! Did you see that! I'm going to go wrestle that thing to the ground and devour it!" (This is the same dog who, as a puppy, chased airplanes.) He took off toward the direction of  his prey.

For a while we could hear him in the woods, smashing the undergrowth as he sniffed frantically around. We called and whistled for him with the assurance that he would come soon. He always does. Time passed and we couldn't hear him any more. I got a little worried. We had seen a baby copperhead earlier. I got more worried. We kept calling and whistling. Nothing.

We left the path and went out to the road, still calling. Even Randy's calls were developing an anxious edge. In time we saw Riley coming down the road. He was not dragging a deer in his jaws so I imagine he was disappointed. He came to us a little sheepishly, knowing he had messed up, but of course I greeted him with hugs and pats which he accepted gratefully.

The sun was setting as we walked toward the car. Riley, who is 12 years old, couldn't keep up and started to limp so I had to carry him most of the way back.He was heavy, stinky and probably covered with ticks but I carried him anyway. 

Riley is an obedient and faithful dog. The worst thing he ever does is sneak up on the couch when we aren't home and then he feels bad about it. One day something big and amazing came across his path and he couldn't resist. He took off into danger toward something he had no chance of obtaining. 

Thanks, dog, for being just like me. 

fuzzy memory

Way back in a very early post I marveled at how the writers of memoirs remembered things in such detail. Things like conversations and what they were wearing at the time. I am not convinced that people can really recall things as vividly as they can write them, but it is amazing what comes back when you start to put it down.

When I was very small, younger than three, we lived in a house at the edge of our little town. It was literally on the edge, a wheat field butted up against our backyard. We had a huge swing set that my dad made. It probably wasn't as big as it is in my mind, but he used tractor seats for the glider. Imagine getting clobbered by one of those

 I think we had one of those sandboxes in an old tire. I have a memory of the backs of my legs getting pinched by cracked rubber.

My dad doesn't play a starring role in my early memories but I clearly remember one afternoon when he called to me from across the yard, I could see he had something cupped in his hands. He spread his thumbs apart and I could see tiny little rabbit ears. I was delighted and instantly had to hold it.Of course I squeezed too hard and the baby bunny screamed like only a baby bunny can. My dad took it back, and I guess he let it go in the wheat field.

That is pretty much what I remember and I think it is mostly true.

Thanksgiving Thanks

Thanksgiving hasn't always been my favorite holiday. It was just a nice day with a good food that came before Christmas. That was the celebration that counted, what with Baby Jesus and the wise men and all those lovely presents.

I did have one problem with Christmas, and that was thanks giving. I would open my gifts,which were always pretty great because that was something my step mom was good at, and then I would just sit there. Oh, I said thank you but I would mumble it like some shy foreign exchange student who wasn't sure of the language. I'm pretty sure I was just embarrassed, but it must have come off bratty. My parents would sigh and say something about how hard they try.

Meanwhile my little sister would be bouncing around the tree, dumping out her stocking, shrieking with unabashed joy over each item no matter what it was. She bubbled her joy all over the place and I wished I was more like her. The personality differences exist to this day,though I am proud to report that I am much less churlish and have developed some social graces.

So now I am a Thanksgiving girl. There's nothing like an entire day of cooking,eating, laughing and loving to make you feel grateful. Even missing the people who can't be there makes you glad that you have them to miss.

This Thanksgiving morning I offered up my mumbled, dutiful thanks to a God who knew I was trying and doing my best. Tonight, at the end of a long, lovely time with kids and grandkids, I will fall into bed and give my Father all the thanks my heart can give.

Gloria

She was a woman who was good at doing what she was good at doing. I say that meaning she didn't waste time. She didn't waste time doing things she didn't care about or that she didn't have a knack for. She was good at singing, so she did it all the time. She was good at decorating so she made things beautiful every chance she got. She was good at knowing what people needed to hear, so she listened and thought and considered, then let you know what she thought.

She hated school, small talk, and Jack Nicholson.

One of many favorite Gloria stories:

She was at the library where I work, bemoaning the fact that she couldn't find any books to read that didn't have a lot of sex and cussing. A sweet lady over heard her and suggested she read Janette Oke.

Her response?

"No, not nearly enough sex or cussing!"

Love you Gloria! So glad you were in my life and I will remember you every time I put a shopping cart where it belongs or arrange my stuff in groups of three.

in memory of flossie: an old xanga post

Flossie: A Cautionary Tale

The first thing you will notice about Flossie is that she is fat. You may have seen fatter cats, but only on the front of funny birthday cards with a joke about too much cake. Next you will notice that she is out of proportion. Her head is too small and her tail too short for such a large cat, she was never meant to be this big. She balances her furry rolls on improbably skinny legs. The third thing you will notice is that she is an attractive tortoise shell, as in: "She has such a pretty face!".However, like all of us, Flossie has a story, a past that will help you to understand her better.

Flossie is a foundling. One early July evening, I was out for a stroll when a tiny scrap of fur came skittering in front of me, frantically crying, obviously lost. I did what you do at the sound of an infant cry, I scooped her up, cradling her in one hand. She was that tiny. Her eyes were open, her umbilicus healed, but she surely had a mother somewhere close by. I have to admit my search was feeble. I knocked on a few doors and poked around a nearby office building but no one knew where the kitten belonged. I folded my hands around the bitty thing and held her against my chest for the walk home.

We were relieved when she ate and drank because we weren’t real sure how she would do. She seemed to adjust well with one weird exception. She was adopted by a burgundy colored afghan. We would find her snuggled up to it, kneading it with her paws and nursing! I finally threw it in the corner of the living room so she would know where to find her "mother" whenever she needed her.

Sadly, Flossie’s surrogate mother did not provide her with the emotional support she needed to overcome her early abandonment. Flossie became a floozy. She started hanging out with the neighborhood bad boy, a dirty white tom cat that had obviously been around the block a time or two. We tried to tell her that she was too good for him, but she wouldn’t listen. Late nights of wild animal behavior and before her first birthday she was pregnant.

She carried her kittens well, and had an uneventful pregnancy. Late one night she gave birth to four kittens in Mia’s bed. Mia was in the bed at the time. As surprised as Mia was, no one was more surprised than Flossie. She let out a yowl that seemed to say "Look what just popped out!" Our dog, Riley, who up to this point was Flossie’s best friend, was amazed as well. He went on to become a favorite uncle, but that comes up in another story.

We had the little mother fixed as soon as she had her kittens weaned. Most of the kittens went to a farm where one of her daughters has been the mother of countless litters of kittens. Riley County, Kansas is littered with tortoise shell kittens. Flossie has aged as well as can be expected. A very needy cat, she craves affection as much as Meow Mix. She carries herself with the demeanor of someone who did all her living when she was just young.

more prom 2010

Prom 2010

coming out of the Twilght closet

Let me first go on record as being Twilight ambivalent. As a person who works in a children's library I am pleased to see so many girls reading. As a person who loves literary fiction I am appalled at Stephenie Meyers lack of writing talent. (Notice I am overlooking the fact that she has produced volumes of work and has enthralled millions, whereas I haven't even written a blog post for five people in nearly a year.) To Ms. Meyers credit, she did improve with each volume.

Oops, I'm out! Yes, I have read all four books, which takes a proficient reader all of a week at most. I could plead professional curiosity, but in truth I had to see what happened when Edward took a bite of Bella.

I have seen some facebook outrage lately, from both teams. No, not Team Edward and Team Jacob, but Team Righteous and Team Don't Judge Me. Humor me while I attempt to bridge the gap.

What non-Twilight readers don't realize is that this isn't a book about vampires. It is a book romance and restraint. It is a book about how it is possible for a man to care so much about the woman he loves that he will deny his most basic needs and his most powerful urges. That is why it appeals to at least three generations of women who have been socialized to believe that all men are dogs and that their own sexuality is cheap.

In defense of the believers out there who are offended that their sisters are getting so much joy out of these books and movies, popular culture is indeed a miry maze and to say that as Christ followers we don't need to be careful what we put in our heads would be naive at best. If your best tactic in the war to to stay completely away, then you are not missing much. There are other ways to teach our daughters that they are valuable and cherished.

This goes so much deeper than Twilight. It speaks to all the issues that divide us as the Body and there are so many of those. We all go around poking each other in the eye screaming, "Don't judge me!" and, "Don't judge me for judging you!" There is where an is enemy lurking. If we can be thrown off by all the trivial little pish posh in our lives we will miss what is really important.

if you want to laugh til you cry

because i think it is ok to post a picture of a cute guy kissing my daughter...

I love this picture and I haven't posted for awhile.

Here is a funny thing that happened yesterday: I was texting some friends to meet me for lunch and I accidentally invited the first person on my contact list to join us.

This is funny because he is a man and he used to be a pastor at our church.

His name rhymes with Will Sanderson.

I don't know why I thought this was so hilarious, but I cracked up all day long.

so here's what's new...

nothing and I'm pretty sure its gonna stay that way because I am finally on FaceBook. May I say it makes me feel like a real dork, but it seems like I can't stay away. I have already been in contact with a few people I haven't seen in years, so I'm pretty sure I'm gonnna like this. As long as no one I hated in high school finds me we're all ok. 

I hated most people in high school.

coming out of the closet

Most of you know that my youngest daughter is 16. I just cleaned out my hall closet and found a coat that was size 10. Little girl 10, not big girl 10. I got rid of gloves that would fit Max, scarves that were early 90s at best, and some strange incense. I put everything in a bag for Good Will, who I'm sure will be thrilled to get winter stuff just as the daffodils are blooming. They will also get some vacuum cleaner bags for a vacuum that I bought used more than 20 years ago. I know they love to see me coming.

Now I can put my vacuum, table leaf, four folding chairs, and six coats easily in the hall closet.

I also started a Lenten devotional today. A week ago Wednesday was the start of Lent, for those of you heathens that don't know that. The devotional is on prayer so I guess you could say I'm cleaning out my prayer closet, too. Ha ha, groan.

I also wrote a letter that I have been meaning to write for over a week. No closet references there.

My point, if I had one, is that I am a terrible procrastinator. I wouldn't be so bad but it seems like late is often really better than not at all. My closet is really clean and I did three days of a simple devotional and I might hear back from someone I thought I lost contact with. 

I inspire myself so much that I may go tackle something else... later.

sometimes my job sucks

Anyone who knows me knows I love my job. I am grateful that after 20 plus years of being at home and with no college degree I was given a job with so much satisfaction. Everthing I get to do fits some little niche in my personality. I get to be around books and people who love books. I get to help people one on one and they think I am smart. I get to be creative and to make things, someting I never knew I was good at.

Very occasionally the job can be heartbreaking. People come in for all sorts of information. A young girl, giddy and giggly, takes home books on what to expect now that she is expecting. A grandmother, voice breaking, whispers to me that she needs information on what to do for a child who has been molested. 

The other day was the worst.

A woman who appeared to be in her thirties or fourties, spent a long time on-line, printing out information from Planned Parenthood. Everything prints out from the front desk, so she had to come up to collect her copies and pay for them. She did this a couple of times and each time I was the clerk to help her. Right before she left she came up to get one last document. 

It was an informed consent form to perform the procedure on a minor child.

I took her fifteen cents and prayed. 

I feel awful.

i'm giving up my best friends

for Lent. I don't think I've ever sucessfully given up anything before. I remember once trying to give up sugar. You can imagine how that went.

This morning I was wandering around, opening the curtains, sipping coffee, just the usual morning thing, when it occurred to me that today was Ash Wednesday. I grew up protestant so I didn't know what Ash Wednesday was until after college. I was working in a clothing store and made the embarrrassing mistake of telling a woman that she had a smudge on her forehead. 

Anyway, about the time I realized that today was Ash Wednesday, I realized that I hadn't yet had my morning meeting with my best friends. That would be Matt, Meridith, and Al, or Robin, Diana, and Sam. I have watched morning "news" every morning for decades. I used to be a die hard GMA fan but after Charlie Gibson left I switched to the Today Show. Lately I have been watching which ever one is the least depressing. I will run across the room to change the channel whenever any talk of the economy comes on. If Dave Ramsey is on I am even faster. He is seeming a bit smug these days.

So I am giving it up for lent. I'm not sure how I will manage. How will I know what is up with the octuplet mother? What if they have an on air wedding and I miss it? There are probably going to be new color palates for spring and I'm not even going to know what they are! 

This morning I listened to Norah Jones and did a cross word puzzle. I'm planning on getting a little more spiritual with this, but that wasn't a bad start. Actually it was a much nicer way to start my day.

Let me know when Lent is over. I may be on a walk or have my nose in a book.

bad cusser

As soon as I posted the last post I felt awkward, but when I went back to edit it I saw that it was too late. I should have used cartoon cussing @$$#*%! or said poop head. I think if you are going to cuss you should do it with a completely clean conscience but when I do it I feel like I am in fourth grade, trying it out for the first time.

I will try to redeem myself. This morning Brother Al led music. I love his Sinatra renditions and the fact that he chooses old choruses that I haven't thought of in years. I also love that he has a running commentary that is relevant and useful.

Today he said that when God's love is mentioned in the Psalms, it is preceded more than 20 times by the word unfailing. That is such a comfort, not just as a lovee, but as a lover. I fail people all the time in the way that I love them. I'm so glad that the Creator of love has me covered and He does a much better job of it than I do.

I'm not going to stop trying, though. Just thought I should warn you.

Today God gave me an Anne Lamott book. Ok, He made me pay five dollars for it, but it is hardback and just what I need. I don't know how many of you have read Anne, could be that you wouldn't like her. She somtimes refers to God as She and she pretty much hates George Bush. I like to think I am a lot like her, minus the dreadlocks. She has a lot of angry negative thoughts, like me. She can be crass about it, like me. She puts it all out there and doesn't worry about what people think, not like me. Maybe if I were more like her I would write genius books and have a Guggenheim fellowship. Like I even know what that is.

Here is an excerpt: 

"I nursed my resentments and disgrace like young plants, watering them, trimming back the dead leaves, making sure they got enough sunlight."

"At times like these, I believe that Jesus rolls up his sleeves, smiles roguishly, and thinks, "This is good." He lets me get nice and crazy until I can't take my own thinking and solutions for one more moment. The next morning I got on my knees and prayed, "Please, please help me. Please let me feel You while I adjust to not getting what I was hoping for." And then I remembered rule 1: When all else fails, follow instructions. And rule 2: Don't be an asshole"

She's not Beth Moore. but she makes her point.

Yup, that's where I've been for awhile. Crazy tired of my own thoughts. So how nice to have a little gift show up at Borders today. Plan B, Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott.

lil livvie

So Liv has a great weekend coming up at Life Change Camp. The band she plays in is doing worship for a high school rally. This is a picture from when she got to do a recording session last summer.

I haven't posted about what I am reading lately because it is trashy. Sometimes you just need a break. I have started Reading Lolita in Tehran which is going to be very worthwhile.

More later.. I have been thinking about how chic lit hasn't really changed over the years and how women fantasize about weird things.