Wow.

An article in the Wall Street Journal says that it might be a better use of your money to stock your pantry, than any other short-term investment.

We all know how much our grocery bill has gone up in the last year or so. Stocking our pantries (especially with the "sale" items every week) seems a natural for us with families--it's What We Do.

But equating it with getting a Much Better Return on your money than the interest you'd earn with a CD?

As the German guy used to say on Laugh-in:

Interesting. Ver-r-ry interesting.

hat tip to Meredith at Like Merchant Ships.

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Found on a vintage ad on the wall in Applebees restaurant:

"Karo Corn Syrup is the only syrup served to the Dionne quints. Its maltose and dextrose are ideal carbohydrates for growing children."--Allan Roy Dafoe, M.D."

Yum.

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I woke up to my bed shaking. That isn't really un-usual; it happens from time to time when Charming gets a cramp in his hamstring, and attempts to "shake it out." But, as I came to consciousness, I realized that he was not the one doing the shaking. It was an honest-to-goodness earthquake.

Now, some of you may find "earthquake" something you have experienced before. Some of you may run for the nearest doorway on a somewhat regular basis. My Auntie Marylin was nearby during the San Francisco earthquake of 1987. But here in northern Indiana, it's much, much more rare.

Charming told me that he has never felt an earthquake before. I have: once, when I was a teenager, I was taking a nap on the couch on a summer afternoon.  Suddenly, I found myself on the floor.

After this (early morning's) quake, I heard a few dogs barking, and a car alarm going off. A few minutes later, the birds resumed their morning songs.

Alvin Fernald came down to watch the early morning news on tv. Here is the info: The epicenter was 7 miles north of New Salem, IL, 61 miles northwest of Evansville, IN. It registered 5.4 on the Richter scale.

I probably won't even find a knicknack off the shelf. But I think it is so cool that God can make Himself evident in just a few seconds, and call us to attention. He has shown us again that HE is all-powerful: it is nothing for him to shake the earth itself. It really *is* a big thing, though, to think about something that can shake your house back and forth!

Thank you, Lord, for keeping us safe tonight. There is nowhere else I would rather be, than safe in Your hand.

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I "inherited" a set of books from my dear mother-in-love, when her own children had grown up. It is by McGraw-Hill, and has titles such as Life of the Pond, Life of the Forest, Life of the Jungle (now, of course, it would be Life of the Rain Forest), Life of the Marsh (ditto--"Wetlands"), etc.

My geeky children loved to read these volumes, mostly "redeeming the time" in the bathroom. Their favorite by  far was "Life of the Cave." A fascinating volume, with a lot of info on those creatures that, because of living in complete darkness, are both blind and colorless. Some of these species have only a scientific name; no common name has ever been given. Creatures who feed on things without chlorophyll--no use for it, since there is no sunlight.

As you may have guessed, I pulled out this volume over the weekend, for some personal enjoyment. Though what I find "enjoyable" about these things is a mystery--I mean, they are all CREEPY-CRAWLIES, you know...eeuuww.

One phrase is used over and over: "they spend their entire lives foraging for food to exist." Then, in turn, *they* become "food for worms," or bacteria, or fungi, whatever.

So many, many species, even the higher species, "spend their [entire] lives" doing this. Predators/prey. It's all around us. Only our domesticated animals are free from this. Our puppies, kitties, horsies, they "have a life." ("it's a dog's life," you know...)

Now, of course, most of these species aren't sentient--don't even know they exist. "Go to the ant," the Bible tells us, to see an example of a good work ethic. But you don't see those ants getting up a game of croquet after dinner dishes are done, do you?

When I was a little girl, I felt sorry for these kinds of creatures. What a life of drudgery. As I got older, I realized, of course, that "it's all they have ever known," so it didn't bother them. Like a rabbit done in by a hawk: after it was all over, did the rabbit care?

And, when I discovered Biology Class (one of my great passions in life!) I could see that all of these creatures fulfilled their place in God's creation. One species being food for another, on up the food chain, and then the Decomposer species, cleaning up after the picnic, "leaving the place cleaner than they found it." (sorry, I lapsed into the old Girl Scout mode...)

Wow, do I have a cushy life. A roof over my head. Warmth, or cool, depending on the season. Food and gasoline that I complain about the price of. Medical care in abundance, and an abundance of "alternative" health options. A library full of ideas, to think about, or relax and escape into. Church of my choice on just about every corner.

Then I remember that "to whom much is given, much is required." I don't work as well as the ant. I don't keep my nose to the grindstone like the earthworm or the fungi even. It gets quite difficult when, because of how God made me, I have Choices. And then I must Determine to Choose Correctly.

Well, I'd better get on to What Needs Doing. So I can get back to Life of the Cave during my free time.

Do you think I "think" too much???

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Well, it looks like I haven't posted in ten days! The big news, of course, is that Lily *did* finally have her baby, a beautiful son. You can read about him here.

I have been seeing either the new little one, Cambridge, or his one-month-old cousin Oxford every day, as well as my other grandbabies. Lots and lots of baby love going on around here!

My father, who lives in a nursing home, was in the hospital for a week, and they found he had M*R*S*A, that staph infection that lives in such places. (tho' he really got it in the nursing home, I think.) He needed to be in isolation for a few days, and his nursing home did not have a private room. Their "sister" facility in a little town south of us ("Population: 1,106 nice people and 4 Grouches!") had room, so he has been there.

Well! Does he LOVE it there! The biggest news is that Sister Nursing Home buys their eggs from farmers (Original Nursing Home uses powdered eggs--gross). He loves the food (or the cook!), loves the staff, loves the birds singing outside of his window.

I spoke with the social worker, and they do have space available for him, after he is no longer contagious. So, we will be picking up his things from Original Nursing Home, to move him "one more time." He is confined to bed, and it is so wonderful to see him taking interest in this thing. I'm so glad he is able to take control of Something in his life--there isn't much else he can control. To make this decision makes him feel once again Independent. It was just "by chance" that his home did not have a room for him to use. But then, we know that there is nothing that is really just "by chance." Our heavenly Father uses these "chance" happenings to move us along the path He has set for us.

Daddy had been in the room he and Mother shared at the Original Home, and still there two years after her passing. I guess he's ready to Move On with his life. Of course, at nearly 86 years old, he is also ready to Move On to the next life! But a few adventures still await.

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So here it is, April 1st. I see photos on many of my friends' blogs of beautiful hyacinths and daffodils. We have a few leaves struggling up through the soil here. It is a dreary, rainy day, though it will reach *almost* 60 degrees.

I know that spring arrives in Indiana later than in the south. I know that sunny days will come, when I can take a "wildflower walk" in the woods, seeing week-by-week the different wildflowers. I know I will see 65, then 70 degrees, as well, with a warm fragrant breeze.

I just want it NOW.

But then, I also want Lily (now 11 days overdue) to have her baby. But not as much as *she* wants her baby.

So I'll stop complaining.

Because "one of these days," it won't matter how many days late my new grandbaby arrives. Right now there is a "boy" quilt and a "girl" quilt waiting by the door, with my camera and extra batteries, waiting for the call. Soon, one of the quilts will be wrapped around the new little one. And the photo card will be full, waiting to be uploaded to the computer.

And "one of these days," I'll be wishing that spring was traveling a little more slowly through these parts. Mourning the passing of the spring beauties and Dutchman's Breeches for another year.

Okay. I'm all right now.

Thanks for letting me vent.

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"Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit." When He had said this, He breathed His last." --Luke 23:46

"Like David, Christ often gave His life into His Father's hands for His daily needs (e.g. Ps. 31:6). But here was a new turn: Jesus gave Himself over to death, thereby giving up all control over His life. He declared Himself willing to face the darkness and death of the grave--there where He could neither think nor pray. He trusted His Father to care for Him in His hour of darkness, and to waken Him at the right time."

--Daily in His Presence, by Andrew Murray with Bruce Wilkinson, entry for March 15.

Wow. I have heard many Good Friday meditations about how Jesus was completely *alone* when He died, because of our sin which was upon Him. He, who had never been separated from His Father, and how awful it must have been.

This devotional gave me an additional aspect to that alone-ness. Now He was alone, going into death, "where He could neither think nor pray." From here on, He must trust His Father to complete the work. Jesus declared, "it is finished," the once-for-all Atonement for sin. But He must also conquer Death, and rise again. 

Of course, He was placing His trust in One who is altogether Trust-Worthy. Still, the complete surrender of Himself to His Father astounds me. When I think about the little things He asks me to submit to Him, and my balkiness about doing so, I must needs be ashamed. You'd think, after walking with the Lord for over thirty years, I wouldn't have a problem trusting Him *every* time He asks me for something.

Pesky Sin Nature. Pesky Self.

Time to Step Up to the plate and Move Along here, Barbie.

When I was little, before the current polio vaccine (is it "live" or "dead" now?) we had to get polio shots every two years. My mother would brook no tantrums when it came to getting shots: "when the doctor says you need to do something, you Just Do It. (Nike got its ad campaign from her.) No complaining." My sister, brother, and I would have a contest to see who could be the bravest, and not cry. I think all of us were successful. Mother was a good coach! And she was right. Just Do It. No Complaining.

I had no trouble in *most things,* trusting Mother. I love that about how God set things up. We are so in love with our mothers by the time we get to the age of Reason that that pattern of trust is set in stone.

Now Mother is gone, and I wish I could tell her once again how much she and Daddy were examples of Christ. How I can take their example, and learn how to trust Him, who is ever more worthy. But I *can* thank the Lord, once again, for giving me the beautiful parents He did.

And, I can get to working on that Complaining thing.

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My daughter Violet turns me on to the greatest books. A few months ago I read The Treasure of Sutton Hoo, per her suggestion. I am now reading The Children's Blizzard, by David Laskin.

This is the story of the 1888 blizzard, the worst ever to hit the American plains. The 1888 blizzard was called the Children's Blizzard, because so many victims were caught as they walked home from school. The blizzard came on almost instantaneously, on a deceptively balmy January day.

I'm in the middle of the book (that seems to be my custom, to rave about a book before I'm even finished with it!)--not even to the Blizzard yet. The first chapter is about the wave of immigration, the pioneers who came to the great plains. Many Swedish, Norwegian, Ukranians came to find the idyllic life promised by the railroad companies. Perfect weather, perfect soil for growing, free land. Well, anyway, the Land was free. It made me feel sorry for all of those who burned their bridges behind them to find themselves victims of "the big three": grasshoppers (remember the Little House story about that one? 'Bout drove me crazy just reading it...), prairie fires, and extreme winters. Here those people came for the *prosperous* life, and they were left, year after year, barely surviving.

Many of us have read The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The Snow Winter (Laura's Long Winter) was 1880-81. Mr. Laskin uses many primary sources (diaries, newspaper articles) to show that Laura's rendition was a common experience that year. Grinding wheat in coffee grinders, because the storms began before the settlers had time to take their crops to the mills to have them ground. Twisting hay all day for fuel. The endless whining of the wind. Trains stuck until June.

(I usually re-read The Long Winter in the middle of summer, when I need to "escape" from the heat...)

The next chapter of the book deals with meteorology, sort of a short course on all of those meteorological terms we hear bandied about on the Weather Channel. It ends up that the Blizzard happened because of a freakish combination of factors that made it a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Or, they call them 50-year or 100-year storms. One thing I did not know, was how much meteorology was actually known then. Although not nearly as sophisticated as it would be in the next century, it was definitely "out of it's infancy" by then.

Then there is a chapter on the Politics of weather-prediction. It appears that the Army's forecasters and the civil meteorologists didn't get along. And, along with politics goes quite a bit of corruption. Also, the meteorologists were a tad lackadaisical about telegraphing the results from place to place. Timing was everything in this instance, and Timing Didn't Happen.

Yet to read? The accounts of the Big Day. The toll it took, and the Aftermath. Definitely looking forward to my Free Time today.

Wonder what Violet suggests next? I'll let you know when I find out!

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(did I get your attention with that lack-of-proper-grammar?)

I have not-a-green-thumb. What do you call that, a "brown" thumb? I used to dread, after giving birth, the standard Plant from Charming's work. You know the drill: Plants last lots longer than cut flowers. She'll appreciate that.

Let's make one thing perfectly clear:

I have killed every plant I've ever owned.

Even my cute-as-pie Shamrock plant I bought at the grocery two years ago. I put it in the middle of the dining room table for St. Paddy's Day. I managed to keep it alive until winter that year. By Christmas, all of what-was-left was brown and drooping. So I ripped all of the dead foliage out, and stuck the pot in the basement. Lo-and-Behold...a few weeks later, I had a small-but-healthy plant going strong again! I had blooms by St. Pat's last year.

Well, now, the plant is still alive, but not in the best shape. I really should just kill it, but I still keep watering it. It certainly isn't a thriving, blooming addition to any table centerpiece. So I'll have to move it to an inconspicuous place for next Monday.

Which leads me to Gardening. I've started a few gardens. Go gung-ho, preparing the soil, and planting things. Caretaking goes pretty well for a few weeks. By the time Memorial Day comes around, (and the heat of summer comes right along with it) I am Done. Being. Outside. on any regular basis. By July, if the plants are still alive, they are choking with weedies, and veggies are small and scarce. My neighbor comes to my rescue, supplying me with tomatoes...

This year will have to be different.

Have you seen the produce prices? $3.99/lb. for tomatoes? And on down the line...

I think that it is my Responsibility to have a garden. Even if it is not Giant, or have twenty-seven different vegetables. Tomatoes fer sure, no garden in Indiana is without them. I hear green beans are easy. Charming wants jalapenos. (we did do those one year, with a modicum of success.) Cucumbers are not *so* easy in my neighborhood--the bunnies come out of the woodwork for cukes.

My problem is that I am *already* second-guessing myself. Just because I find it hard to bring a garden to the "fruitful" stage, doesn't mean I'm not capable, right? My darling Mother-in-love is a great gardener. She loves to Get Her Hands Dirty. I love to Stay In The Air Conditioning and Sew... 

Better pray that I suddenly get a Love of All Things Veggie.

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"There were three ladies in the room and one gentleman. Before I had been standing at the window five minutes, they somehow conveyed to me that they were all toadies and humbugs, but that each of them pretended not to know that the others were toadies and humbugs, because the admission that he or she did know it, would have made him or her out to be a toady and a humbug."

--Great Expectations, p. 88-89

I wonder exactly what was running through Dickens' mind while he wrote these words. It surely was fun to read them aloud this morning!

Alvin Fernald likes to sit while we read, dictionary in hand. Here are his findings:

toady--a truckler to the rich and powerful.

(--truckler--to yield obsequiously to the will of another)

((--obsequiously--devoted; fawning.))

humbug--one who deceives or misleads; an impostor.

So, what I found out was that I really *did* know what a toady was--someone who ingratiates themselves to someone who's *somebody*. I've used the phrase "toady up" to someone many times; I've just never used it as a noun.

Now, of course, we use much cruder words to express the same thought. Several years ago, it was "brown-nose-ing;" now, the term of choice is "s*cking up."

Both of those modern terms are disgusting in their origins. Maybe "toadying" or "truckling" were???

Somehow I think not. The dictionary indicated their origins were allusions from other known activities--"truckle" referred to rolling a trundle bed under a big bed, usually the apprentice's bed under the "master's" bed.

So, I could go on and on about the Devolution of our Language (and culture, and...it *is* one of my soapboxes...) but instead, I think I'll make sure I throw "Toady" into every conversation I can, to replace that "other" term that is so, so common.

So, if you need a New Word to use, I have one for you:

Toady on up to someone today, and let them know you're doing it ;)

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...well, to be absolutely truthful, at Forget-me-not's house!

Go here to see photos of new baby Oxford! (the blog-name comes from a family joke...)

This Grandma is ready to burst with pride! Oxford was born Sunday night, and is ready to go home this evening. Big brother Blueberry is fascinated, of course. Violet is coming to stay with Forget-me-not for a few days--a special treat. But you know that I'll be parking over there part of every day. What a blessing that Forget-me-not lives only two miles away.

Better close this before I become silly or something...

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I grew up with record albums, those lovely LP vinyls. (in fact, we even had a number of the hard 78's, as well...) My mother had her Big Band collection, but I loved the Musicals the best.

We had a number of them: Camelot, Flower Drum Song, Carousel. But "Oklahoma!" took center stage one year.

My sister was six years ahead of me in school. When they announced the senior musical was going to be Oklahoma!, that record got "record" playing time in our house. I was in sixth grade; nothing could be more exciting than the process of Janny talking about tryouts, costumes, practices, songs... (you probably know what I'm talking about, due to the present High School Musical phenomenon.)

There was quite the controversy, however, about the part of Ado Annie, and whether they were going to allow her part to stand as written. If you don't know the musical, here are partial lyrics from two of her songs:

I'm jist a girl who cain't say 'no'
Kissin's my favorite food!
With or without the mistletoe
I'm in a holiday mood!
Other girls are coy an' hard to catch
But other girls ain't havin' any fun!
Ev'ry time I lose a wrastlin' match
I have a funny feelin' that I won!
Though I can feel the undertow
I never make a complaint
'Till it's too late for restraint
Then when I want to I cain't
I cain't say 'no!'

She falls in love with the "Will" character, and he approaches her, asking if she thinks she can be faithful to him after marriage:

Will:
I heared how you was kickin' up some capers
When I was off in Kansas City, Mo.
I heard some things you couldn't print in papers
From fellers who been talkin' like they know!

Annie:
Foot!
I only did the kind of things I orta, sorta,
To you I was as faithful as c'n be--fer me.
Them stories 'bout the way I lost my bloomers - Rumors!
A lot of tempest in a pot o' tea!

(later in the song)

Annie:
Would you build me a house
All painted white
Cute and clean and purty and bright

Will:
Big enough fer two but not fer three!

Annie:
S'posin' that we should have a third one?

Will:
He better look a lot like me!

Annie (holds up her hand in an "I swear on the Bible" pose:
Yer spittin' image!

Will:
He better look a lot like me!

Now, when I was in sixth grade, I had no idea what these lyrics were talking about. (Oh, if I could say that about my own children! But, maybe not, they need to know so much more now, don't they...) So I didn't understand the hullaballoo. Frankly, I don't even remember how the situation came out; all I remember was watching the play, looking for my sister's parts! 

Forget-me-not and MacGuyver were in a production of Oklahoma! in 2000. No mention was made of any inappropriateness--wouldn't anyone who scoffed been laughed at in derision? 

I had always heard that Oklahoma! had ushered in a new era of the Modern Musical. But, I was surprised to learn that it debuted in 1943. Guess maybe Rogers and Hammerstein wanted to push some boundaries?

We all know that when anyone (artist, politician, etc.) decides to "push some boundaries," they will often push way, way, too far, so that when the public complains, they "pull back," only not quite all the way. This "two steps forward, one step back," eventually succeeds in getting people's agendas where they want them to be. It is getting harder and harder to keep an eye on these things for our young ones.

'Way back when *I* was dating age, the Big Question was whether you would allow a boy to kiss you on the first date. I'm not seeing that discussion going on anywhere around me these days!

Charming and I have safely guided six children to adulthood, and two into marriage. We have two to go: Blackeyed Susan is 14, and Alvin Fernald is 13. I'm grateful for our church family and homeschooled friends with similar standards. Mistakes will still be made; sometimes Big Mistakes will be made. I pray that their Big Mistakes won't be the kind that will scar them for life. But the good news for them is, that they cannot do anything that will stop God from loving them, or their Daddy and Mommy, as well. God is a Fixer and a Redeemer. How my life shows that for a certainty!

I encourage you to spend some time today, thinking of how God has redeemed our sorry little lives in all those large and small ways. It will be Time Well Spent.

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Yesterday, our pastor preached on the miracle of feeding the 5,000. Now, I'm sure you have heard sermons on this passage before, perhaps more than once. But this time, it spoke to me in a different way.

You know the story, of course. The Crowds Came. In John 6:5, it is Jesus who asks Philip, "Where shall we find bread for these people to eat?" The passage also says, He said it to test Philip, for He already knew what He was going to do.

I love to imagine the little boy with the lunch. Maybe he was five years old, and overheard Jesus' question. Can't you hear him, holding up his little package: "Here, Jesus. You can use mine!" I know *my* little ones would have done so. Oh, if we could have that faith!

Well, I don't have to tell you what happened. Jesus blessed the food, and it held out, with plenty to spare. (the same thing has happened to me, but with about thirty people, not 5,000. And, there wasn't a lot "to spare." Guess I have faith for 30....)

This miracle is told in all four Gospel accounts, and in one of them, one of the apostles suggests sending the crowds home to find their own dinner. So, what was the new "twist" I got yesterday? Our pastor challenged us to ask the question a different way. Instead of, "where shall we find bread for them to eat?" try these:

Where shall we find answers to broken marriages?

Where shall we find answers for straying children?

How can we bring clarity to those with mental illness or depression?

How can we reach out to the hurting?

Is our answer, "Send them away to fend for themselves?"

Ouch.

The Good News is that, just like in the story, Jesus already knows what he plans to do. He just needs Miracle Bread-Passers. The answer is beyond my capacity, but not beyond His. Can I get *there* in my own faith, to really, really believe that? Is Jesus' resurrection power available now to transform MY world?

What do I do when the need is bigger than my answer? Just do what I can do, (and KEEP doing it). God will do the rest. This is His way of "growing" us.

So often, I get so caught up in my own stuff, I can't even think about doing stuff for God. He wants me to be willing to smell like fish and pass out bread. Do I have a servant's heart? Oh, I want one!

So, just a few thoughts from our sermon yesterday. These, for the most part, are not *my* thoughts. Just the notes I took while our pastor was sharing. But they were so good, I wanted to share them with you. The title of the sermon was "making room for the miraculous." I think if I can desire this, I'd better Get Outta The Way. Stuff is Going to Happen.

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I do not believe that the earth is overpopulated with humans. First and foremost, I believe that our Creator is *in charge*, and would not let the place He created for us, ever become too small. What, He didn't figure big enough, like when I don't get enough fabric to recover the sofa? You know, you go back to the fabric store, and they're all out...

I have, from time to time, heard the statistic that the entire population of the earth would fit into the state of Texas, with each of us allowed 1500 sq. feet of space. My house has 1850 square feet, and housed ten of us. So I'm thinking that the 1500 sq. feet would easily allow for a garden and a couple of rooms to live in.

I finally decided to "do the math," and see if this could actually happen. I had to do the calculations manually, as my calculator only allows eight places for numbers.

Texas has 267,339 square miles. To get the square footage, I need to use two "unit multipliers" of 5280 feet/1 square mile. This would end up as 267,339 times 5280 times 5280 times feet times feet, *over* 1. That calculation took half a sheet of notebook paper, and ends up to be 7,452,993,577,600 square feet. That's seven trillion and change. I rounded it to 7 trillion, 453 billion, (7,453,000,000,000) and divided by 6 billion. (Actually, I just divided 7,453 by 6.) The answer, tho' not technically 1,500 square feet, turns out to be 1242 square feet. And, in case you are asking, only 5,500 square miles are used up as lakes in Texas. You technically would need to either subtract them, or provide boats for those people to sit in...)

So. It looks like the entire population of the earth could easily fit into Texas, without nudging up against each other or anything. Plenty of "personal space."

A little different perspective on the Population Explosion, eh?

(and, don't forget, that Texas is less than half the size of Alaska.)

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"Nothing is intolerable that is necessary, [Jeremy] Taylor had written. Now God has bound thy trouble upon thee, with a design to try thee, and with purposes to reward and crown thee. These cords thou canst not break; and therefore lie thou down gently, and suffer the hand of God to do what He pleases."

--quoted in Home to Holly Springs by Jan Karon, p. 329

I grew up quite awhile ago, when many people suffered with cancer or any of a number of other maladies before they succumbed. The key word here is Suffered.

I remember asking my mother one time about how these people could stand the suffering. I loved her answer: Suffering is a gift that God gives only to those who can handle it. But if you are *chosen,* you have an opportunity to show people the faithfulness of God.

I also knew that those people did not suffer alone. They were surrounded with friends and family who prayed, as well as the Savior who promised "never to leave them or forsake them."

My parents knew suffering.  Besides two miscarriages and two stillbirths, four of their children were born with a congenital cancer-like syndrome. It was in remission at birth, but they knew that at some point, it would become active. My siblings died at 2 1/2, 3, 5, and 8 years of age, the last one surviving longer due to "new,"  "experimental" chemotherapy drugs.

The most beautiful thing about my parents is that, in their suffering, they turned to the One who comforts. They taught me that what seems like tragedy is not tragedy to God: all is in His time, and for His purpose.

We all suffer to one extent or another. We are all betrayed by someone who loves us. We are unfairly treated. No one escapes crisis in their life, of one kind or another.

In Where is God When It Hurts? by Phillip Yancey, I found an answer I can live with to the question, How can a loving God allow suffering? This is the gist of it, though I do not have the book in front of me, for a proper quote:

Say that any good act that you do would have an instant reward, and that any bad act you do would have an instant punishment. (isn't this the way you or I would design a perfect world?) Say that you would get some kind of "treat" for good actions, and that you would feel an electric shock for bad actions. How long would it be before you were doing good things because you knew the treat was coming, and *not doing* bad things because you didn't want to be shocked? Well, you know what that is--Conditioned Response. Psych 101.

But God, who *is* LOVE, wants us to love Him because we choose to, not to avoid punishment, or receive a reward. Think about our earthly relationships. Don't you want your children to love you for *you,* not because of what you can give them? Same thing for God, our Father.

The book explains it much better than I can. (so go get the book!) But here is where it led me. We live in a fallen world; the fallen world has suffering. The Bible tells me that the rain falls on the just and the unjust. So, since God knows a tad more than I do, I can leave the answers with Him, and not worry about it. He has proven to me in my own life, that He is GOOD. ALL THE TIME. So, if I am suffering, it is either a natural consequence of a choice I made, or the Lord has let it come to me.

The best part of all is that God Wastes Nothing. He is using everything in my life to "conform me to the image of His Son."

So, we're back to the quotation, and to my Mom's answer. (why, yes, she was the smartest lady in the entire universe!) Suffering. The Gift nobody asks for. But one of the most Precious of all His gifts.

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My devotion for today, for my marriage, is based on ICor. 13:4-8:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

Some of these I can check off the list. It took me years and years, but, most of the time, I "keep no record of wrongs." Pretty good on the "does not envy." The *patient* and *kind* part are come-and-go. Oh, I use all the excuses--too busy, hormones, whatever, then a quick "I'm sorry, honey." He always forgives me. But then I find that I can be selfish about doing something *I* want to do, and think, Oh, well, he'll forgive me later. You know that saying, "I'd rather ask forgiveness than permission?" I don't remember reading that in the Bible!

I think the last portion of the passage makes a great goal for a marriage:

it ALWAYS protects/ ALWAYS trusts/ ALWAYS hopes/ ALWAYS perseveres. Love NEVER fails.

So, a special Valentine's greeting to all of you married friends. And, remember that a married couple is the best picture God has of showing Himself to the world. We should seek to make it the very best we can. Never forget that *He* can make it that way!

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When I had all my little guys at home, they used to exert their influence so that I would buy their favorite kind of chips for lunch. It worked, because Aldi's had bags of chips for 59 cents. So I would buy barbeque, sour cream and onion, corn chips, cheeto's, and pretzels. By the end of the week, there wasn't much left. I would mix all the rest of the bags together in a bowl and call it Surprise Chips.

Same with cereal. Cheerios, Kix, and whatever else was left at the bottom of the boxes would go in a Tupperware cereal keeper, and I would call it Surprise Cereal. (don't use  Raisin Bran, though, it gets soggy in the bowl before the rest of the cereal--eeuuww.)

Neither Surprise Chips nor Surprise cereal were as popular as each favorite by itself. But the children learned to eat both of them.

It's kind of like being brothers and sisters.  Living together is a learning process, and, I guess it worked, because as difficult as it could be growing up, now, whenever my adult children get together, they seem to have no problem getting along. This, of course, translates into the experience of being college roommates, and then progresses to marriage.

A few years ago, I read an article that said America should not be called The Great Melting Pot. It should instead be called a Salad, because we are all Separate People, not a homogenous One. *Diversity* is the Goal.

Hmmm. Guess that person did not read his history text. During the period of the great immigration, the Goal was to become transformed into a different identity--American. Yes, we Germans and Greeks and Italians and Irish brought our cultures with us. But, like any great pot of *anything,* it is the little spices and other things "added" that make the dish shine. And then, the "pot" becomes its Own Thing.

And, frankly, I don't know of anyone who doesn't still have Ethnic pride. (Did you see My Big Fat Greek Wedding?) I remember the first time I saw Riverdance. It felt like I could identify with that Irish dancing clear down to my DNA. I just KNEW those were "my people."

Yet, there is so much about us that is distinctly American, different than any other people. During World War II, the Japanese didn't know what to do with "Yankee ingenuity." Neither did the Germans--it was Americans who had the idea to use Navajo code-talkers to foil the Germans. And think about MacGuyver--Americans can fix anything with a paper clip and a rubber band!

My thought for today was that this is how we should view the Church. We come from many traditions--I grew up Catholic, and I have a sister-in-law who was raised in the Holiness tradition. Yet, today I worship in an Assemblies of God church. We Christians are of all stripes(and you know what I mean!),and have to learn to "live together" in spite of our differences. We retain our "ethnic" traits, but come together into a melting pot that is distinctly Christlike. 

At least, that is the idea, isn't it? Gollee, if it could only be said of us, You are all Christians, aren't you? Just by the way we act. What a goal to shoot for.

And the very best thing? It is He that does the work. We just have to Get Close and Listen.

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Here is a quote from Laddie, by Gene Stratton-Porter:

"Schoolhouses are made wrong. If they must be, they should be built in a woods pasture beside a stream, where you could wade, swim, and be comfortable in summer, and slide and skate in winter. The windows should be cut to the floor, and stand wide open, so the birds and butterflies could pass through. You ought to learn your geography by climbing a hill, walking through a valley, wading creeks, making islands in them, and promontories, capes and peninsulas along the bank. ou should do your arithmetic sitting under trees adding hickorynuts, subtracting walnuts, mulitplying butternuts, and dividing hazelnuts. You could use apples for fractions, and tin cups for liquid measure. You could spell everything in sight and this would teach you the words that are really used in the world. Every single one of us could spell incompatibility, but I never heard Father, or the judge, or even the Bishop, put it in a speech." --Little Sister , p. 267

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Sometimes I have a great deal more fun homeschooling, than the children seem to have Doing It. Maybe it's because, once you get out of school, all of the learning you do is because of the Love of Learning thing.

I read on somebody's blog last week that it was -35 degrees where they were.  Celsius, even. I could not even imagine how cold that would be in Fahrenheit degrees. So, this morning, I called my darlin' Don Quixote for the formula to convert one to the other. Now, this is the boy I used to brag to everyone about, how he could multiply two three-digit numbers in his head. One day he asked me Why do you always tell people that? Then he said, "can't everybody do that?" Um, not in *my* world, honey.

So, it may not surprise you that, when I woke him out of a sound sleep to ask him, he said, "Well, Mom, to convert from Fahrenheit to Celsius, it's F minus 32 times 5 divided by 9. From Celsius to Fahrenheit, it's C times 9/5 plus 32. So, we tried it with today's temp. of 42F. That turned into 5.5C. Then we did my blog-friend's -35: -37C.

Wow. I called Don back: "is this possible?" "Oh, yeah, Mom, that's right." (what I actually said was, "we tried it with today's high of 42F," and he interjected, "well, that would be five and a half C." I'm proud to say *I* carried that boy under my heart for nine months!) "And, oh, by the way, Mom, C and F are the same at minus 40. You can do it algebraically, the equation is 9/5x plus 32 = x. By the way, thanks for waking me up. I'll always wake up for Math."

The answer to the equation is, of course, minus 40.

Now, this is not to say that I never learned that fact; and, of course, I did, at one time, or several times, learned the conversion equation. But it was JUST SO DARN MUCH FUN today, I had to share.

Thanks for reading.

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