I have finished two "classic" works of literature that I had never taken the time to read before: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Frankenstein.

I actually became interested because they were on a resource list for a Worldview Course that I was researching. I was not surprised that each of the tales was different from the our common connotations, based on movies that, for good or bad (good: the Spencer Tracy "Jekyll,"; bad: the myriad other versions of both!) could not give to the viewer the torment and anguish the title characters felt.

Each of the two stories is written either in first person, or from another "eyewitness" point of view. The authors were extremely talented in "pulling me in" to the stories.

What you don't get from the cheesy movie versions of Jekyll is the reason Henry Jekyll experimented with the good/bad parts of the human nature to begin with. He wanted to find a way to separate the good and the bad in order to allow man to live in his "good" nature all the time. As we all know, after drinking the potion and entering his "evil" nature, he wreaked havoc on the town, until he took his antidote to return to "normal." He found he had a problem when the evil nature returned to him without notice, and without taking the formula. This happened at shorter and shorter intervals, and he found himself trying to make his way home to get the antidote before he was found out.

Eventually Jekyll finds himself in his evil state without any more antidote, and he must find a "final solution" to his problem.

Then I moved on to Frankenstein. Dr. Victor Frankenstein again had a noble motive: he thought that if he could find the "answer to life," then he could bring people back to life, for example, children who died from disease.

He gathered the most beautiful "pieces and parts" that could be acquired from cadavers. He also decided that he would be more easily successful if he worked in a larger (giant) format. He was extremely excited, thinking that he was advancing God's cause, as he did the electrical and chemical maneuvers that brought the being to life.

He was immediately horrified: the eyes and mouth, instead of being beautiful, were hideous. He ran away from the being, and was relieved to find the being gone when he came home again.

Frankenstein spends the the next years haunted by what he had done. He calls the being alternately daemon, fiend, and monster. His act causes the death of everyone he loves; the monster treks across the earth looking for acceptance and love, and failing that, turns to vengeance and murder. The knowledge of what he has done affects Frankenstein's physical, mental, and emotional health until he eventually dies.

Both Henry Jekyll and Victor Frankenstein had noble motives. Both wanted to better mankind. Both believed they had a "calling" to do so. But they both entered into places that belong only to God--those of Author of Life, and Redeemer of Mankind. We are more than a collection of organs and chemicals, "turned on" at the beginning of our life. We must not forget that the first man, Adam, had life "breathed into him" by the Father God himself.

Adam messed things up, and then left to all his descendants the Sin Nature. The Bible says that we are all "desperately  wicked" by ourselves. It takes Jesus' resurrection power to redeem that nature. All the good in us is because of Him. Do you see that both Jekyll and Frankenstein were doomed from the start? They had nothing to give their creations except from their own stores--which were inherently flawed.

These stories have many layers--definitely worth a read. They are short enough for summer reading, as well.

After spending some time this weekend thinking about the two stories, I went to church this morning. During worship we sang the "Revelation Song." Look at some of the lyrics. They meant so much more to me, after reading these two stories:

Worthy is the,
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy, is He
Sing a new song, to Him who sits on
Heaven's Mercy Seat

(Chorus)
Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come
With all creation I sing:
Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything,
And I will adore You…!

Clothed in rainbows, of living color
Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder
Blessing and honor, strength and
Glory and power be
To You the Only Wise King,

Filled with wonder,
Awestruck wonder
At the mention of Your Name
Jesus, Your Name is Power
Breath, and Living Water
Such a marvelous mystery

********************

So here is the Short Version:

Man disappoints, but Jesus Never Disappoints.

Man fails, but Jesus Never Fails.

God is good. All the time!

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We are moving closer and closer to the day when Charming will, almost certainly, be out of work. I related in my last (two-part) post that, to my *natural* self, this would be a source of great anxiety to me. But it seems that the Lord has other plans this time. He is ever-so-gently preparing me, day by day, for what is to come.

Last night we began our "summer series" in Ladies' Bible Study. Throughout the school year, our church offers a number of classes that have ten to fifteen ladies in each. But in the summer, we all come together in the large hospitality room at the church for a somewhat lighter Theme. This year we're calling it Beach Talk, using the wonderful little book, A Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.

If you don't know the book, it was written in 1955 by the wife of aviator Charles Lindbergh. The fiftieth anniversary edition says this:

"Lindbergh casts an unsentimental eye on the trappings of modernity that threaten to overwhelm us: the time-saving gadgets that complicate rather than simplify, the multiple commitments that take us from our families..."

Sounds like either she was incredibly "ahead of her time," or women have always had the same challenges!

I happen to have picked up a 1955 copy of the book in a thrift store for 50 cents. I'm anxious to read it as a woman would have in that day. (by the way, my copy says "first and second printing February 1955." My mother was pregnant with me at the time...)

Last night was kind of an Intro night. At each table, we discussed what we look forward to at the beach. I've not spent any time at the ocean, but have spent time on Lakes Michigan and Huron. Not the smell of salt, exactly, that others at my table raved about, but the vastness, the rhythm of the waves, and the Sounds are there. A perfect place for contemplation.

Our teacher went on to relate an experience she had last fall at a beach in North Carolina. She was lucky, lucky, lucky enough to have a getaway with a girlfriend just to get some alone-time with the Lord. Nancy is kind of a chicken like me--it was October, so she wanted to do her walking at the place near the breakwater where the water was still warm, and she could see the bottom of the water. That was "safe," she figured. (Safe is such a Big and Necessary Word for me, you know?)

She found that, although she could see the bottom of the water (and did, indeed, feel "safe"), the Lord led her down the beach to a place that she couldn't see her feet. It was, however, a more pleasant place to walk, and only a little colder in temperature. There the Lord spoke to her: You want to walk where you know it is absolutely Safe. But there is a place where I am leading you to walk, and you need to trust Me that it is Safe there, as well.

That struck me like a bolt of lightning. I need to step out, and trust my Father that He will not take me to a place that He can't make safe. If I do feel like my feet are falling out from under me, that He is right there beside me.

Wow. Now, friends, I am in my fifties. The Lord has led me through a Whole Lotta Stuff in my life. He is always, always faithful and worthy of my trust. I have, like all of you, found Him not to be on my timetable, but when it's over, found His timing right. Every time. But, of course, every step we take in our faith brings us to another place of learning. This is why Jesus is called the "finisher" of our faith. This is how we become "conformed to the image of God's Son."

This is probably going to mean a big learning curve. It may involve some "growing pains." But how very grateful I am that I have had time to adjust to this new circumstance. How gently My Father has prepared me. And then He'll be right beside me, like my own Daddy was when I learned to ride a two-wheeler, or had to 'fess up to a neighbor that I broke a window. I'm never, ever alone. Jesus promised that He would never leave us or forsake us.

What's coming, I don't know. But He does, and it's getting to be Enough for me, just to know that.

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[if you care to read Part I, it is below...]

Charming has had a decades-long desire to be in vocational ministry. Music is his main vehicle, but the man can teach, and preach as well. The wisdom that comes out of his mouth Astounds Me.

Through the years, he has ministered in and out of our local church; playing for and leading worship on Sundays, Wednesdays, and for retreats and meetings, also teaching marriage classes, and many other things.

Except, of course, for the last 3 years, which has meant a severe limitation on his availability to minister.

We've prayed, oh, we've prayed, for a different job, one that will leave him available for ministry, and possibly to lead to full-time ministry. However, I had a specific picture in my head of What That Would Look Like; i.e. a new job would be waiting for him when the present one ended...

Two months ago, Charming was told that, due to the economy, the company was probably going to let one of the managers go. Since Charming is the highest-paid guy, you can see where this conversation was leading. Charming will hear their decision any ol' day now.

Now, probably my biggest Need is security. Under that come all those other "love languages" like Loving Touches and Words of Affirmation--they make me feel Secure. What does NOT make me feel secure is the thought of unemployment!

Psalms 56:3:

"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."

The Lord is gracious, giving us (me) time to prepare our (my) head for this.

Joshua 1:9:

"Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

Has not God ALWAYS been faithful? Yes. Can He take care of me better than I can? Of course. Isn't His plan better than mine? I believe it!

Haven't we prayed for three years for an "escape?"

Yes, Lord, but not by Losing His Job. That's not how I Want It. I need Security, remember? We've done the unemployment thing, a dozen times before. I've Done My Time, Lord.

"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."

I DO trust Him. He has proven Himself worthy of my trust. He DOES know better than I.

Look at the verse one more time:

"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."

I can trust in Him *while* I'm afraid. He knows I'm afraid, but that's okay. He loves me anyway, like I love my children. When my four- or six- or thirteen-year-old has been afraid, I just hold them and tell them it's okay--they don't need to worry because Daddy and Mommy are there. I can climb up in my Father's lap and tell Him all about it, and He tells me it's going to be okay. He'll be taking care of it.

I think I'm ready to face the day now. How wonderful that I'm *not* in charge! Wouldn't that be a mess!

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[I'm writing this for myself, to get these thoughts down "on paper." It will probably be long, so Caveat Emptor, so they say...]

Psalms 56:3

"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."

Thirty-three years ago, Charming took a job at Pizza Hut, training to be an assistant manager. He figured to work in a restaurant only long enough to figure out "what he wanted to do with the rest of his life."

Over the next nine years, we endured a number of bouts of unemployment. Back in the day, "standard practice" in the restaurant industry (Charming had also worked for four other companies) for a newly-hired district manager was to fire all the managers and begin again with people of his own choosing. In between times, Charming tried lots of "own your own business" things: Christian books, Amw*y (twice), carpet cleaning, insurance, business brokering. All commission-only, all miserable failures.

We learned the truth of Psalms 37:23-25:

"The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in His way. 24Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholdeth him with His hand. 25I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread."

We have never gone without a meal.

Once we had a case of blue-box mac-and-cheese (24 boxes) to cover lunches and dinners until the time the first paycheck came for a new job.

Once we had pb&j sandwiches for a week, three meals a day, except for the last two days when there was no peanut butter, just jelly sandwiches.

We have been bored, but not hungry.

We also have not been unemployed since February 1984. That's when Charming took a job with W*ndy's, for whom he worked for 21 years. The last two years were extremely stressful. The day he was admitted to the hosptital with chest pains and his heart beating 150 times a minute, he got a call from Cr*cker B*rrel. The job looked promising for rapid advancement and good money.

The price has been high. The schedule is brutal, with some weeks having to rise at 3:45 am to open the store, some weeks getting home at 1 am when he had to "close," and some mid-shifts, where he misses seeing the kids for days at a time. Worst of all have been the weekends. At W*ndy's, except for the first eight months, he had weekends off. For 3 1/2 years, he has had only a handful of weekends off a year. Worse still, he only gets to go to church about once a month.

[Part II to follow...]

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Wow. This is the second memorial tribute in a row here on this blog. You'd think I had nothing better to do all day than read the obituaries!

I read in the paper that a schoolmate of mine passed away. He was a year ahead of me in school, and our paths only crossed for a few months in my junior year.

We both tried out for the spring musical "Fiddler on the Roof." Denny wanted so, so badly to get the part of Motel, the suitor of Tevye's oldest daughter. He went "all out" at the audition, singing Motel's song "Miracle of Miracles." He got that part, and I got the part of one of the other daughters.

One day at lunch, he sat across from me. I had bought my lunch; he showed up with a brown paper bag and a thermos. With a string hanging down the outside. Curious, I waited while he opened it up, pulled on the string, and pulled out two hot dogs, steaming from their boiling-water bath.

As he continued to prepare his lunch, he started talking to me about JESUS. Now, it being 1972, the Jesus Freaks were out in force. I politely let him state his case, then responded that I didn't see the need to embrace the new Jesus thing.

You see, we were Catholic (it was a Catholic high school), and, well, I told him I already believed all that stuff. I felt privileged to pray to the Father, and didn't see the need to add Jesus to the mix. It went, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and that to me meant that the Father was most important.

I made a new commitment to the Lord in 1975, that made a great change in my life. I still believe that I was saved in third grade, at my Confirmation, where I made a public pronouncement of my desire to follow the Lord my whole life. As a matter of fact, when I "got saved" in 1975 (tho' I really don't use that term to describe that encounter), nothing really changed in my relationship with Jesus. Outward things changed--reading my Bible, praying often, lifestyle changes. But I think that the changes were a result of God saying to me, in effect, "now you're grownup--it's Time To Get Serious."

I have not seen Denny Kite since his graduation, 37 years ago. But I have thought of him often through the years, witnessing to me over two hot-dogs-on-a-string. I rejoice with his family today, knowing he is worshipping the Lord, face to face. He faithfully witnessed of the "hope that was in him," and I thank God for that.

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I read in the paper that Mrs. Shirmeyer's husband passed away.

That's how I always thought of him. I know his name is Paul--they were members of the church I grew up in, and my parents' friends. But Mrs. Shirmeyer was my first-grade teacher, and that relationship supersedes any other relationship I had with her, even to this day, forty-eight years later.

The Catholic school I went to did not have a kindergarten, so first-grade was my first school experience. I remember we got to wear a dress the first day (instead of the navy-blue uniforms every other day). My dress was purple, and I remember being called out by Mrs. Shirmeyer the first day, when the class was asked to find something in the room that was red, blue, green...I was the only thing that was purple. I was so proud!

So many, many wonderful things that year. Learning to read, and add and subtract. The lollipop tree you got to utilize once your "seatwork" was done. I won a reading contest with a copy of The Little Engine That Could as the prize. Moving from one Dick-and-Jane reader to the next. (I never found them a dulling influence, as many homeschoolers today do--they were pretty exciting to me!)

I have two memories from that year revolving around red tights. Mrs. Shirmeyer had told us that if we ever had to use the restroom (we called it the Lavatory), we just needed to raise our hand. We were all doing our seatwork, and Mrs. Shirmeyer was re-doing a bulletin board, with her back to us. I raised my hand, and after a couple of minutes, waved my hand more and more frantically, but then...it was too late. And I was wearing tights. eeuuww. She asked me why I didn't come up and tap her on the shoulder. But, you see, I didn't know then that I was a very Literal thinker, and she had said to raise our hand if we had to go, and it would have Never Occurred To Me to do anything else.

At Christmas time, I was honored to play Mary in the afternoon Christmas program. All the Moms were there, and the Daddys who worked second shift.  Joseph Kapp played Joseph, in his green chenille bathrobe. I had a beautiful blue satin scarf on my head, and red tights under my bathrobe. The rest of the first-graders were behind us, singing Silent Night. I was kneeling by the manger, in a very holy way, you know, when my tights began to ride down. It was very irritating, and I wanted more than anything to reach down and pull them up. But I was determined to wait until the song was over.

Three verses is a Very Long Time to do nothing but think about how your tights are riding down. By the last chorus I couldn't stand it any longer, and reached down and yanked those babies up! The crowd burst into laughter. Humiliated again!

So you would Think that first grade would be something to Forget. But Mrs. Shirmeyer was magic. And I never forgot that magic.

I last saw Mrs. Shirmeyer three years ago, at my mother's funeral. She came with Mrs. Shirmeyer's husband. (yes, I still thought of him that way, tho' I did manage to call him Mr. Shirmeyer...) I can't help it. She still seemed magic to me. How many doors of wonder and awe she opened up. No one could have had a better "first" teacher, outside of their own Mommy and Daddy.

And today, I am praying for Mrs. Shirmeyer, that she will be comforted by our Father in her time of loss. And thanking our Father, once again, for the privilege of knowing her.

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hey, interj. sound made to attract attention, to express surprise or other feeling, or to ask a question.

--Thorndike--Barnhart High School Dictionary, 1968.

Look at the date of my last entry: more than a month ago. I have been blogging on my other blog pretty regularly, but this one, which my family calls my "thinking" blog, has been neglected. Perhaps I've done no "thinking" of note...

I was watching the Schoolhouse Rock dvd with my grandkids the other day. Do you know it? This is the one we watched over-and-over:

Interjections show excitement or emotion. They're generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point! or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong.

I've been thinking about the word *hey,* which led me to look it up in my old-school dictionary. You see where it says it is used to "attract attention, express surprise or other feeling, or to ask a question." What a multi-purpose word!

I sort of wondered if it came from the word "Ahoy!" which is also used to attract attention. You could probably also use the word Ahoy to "express surprise," as in, Ahoy! What have we here? Or is that "asking a question?" And am I way off base thinking that Hey and Ahoy might be related?

As usual, when I look up a word in the dictionary, I wander. While getting to the right page, I find a word or two among the guide words (the beginning and end words at the top of the page, if you, like me, have forgotten the term) that I have never seen. This morning I found "fricative" (in phonetics, pronounced by forcing the breath through a narrow opening formed by placing the tongue or lips near or against the palate, teeth, etc...f, v, s, and z are fricative consonants." Also, "gibingly" (the adverb form of "gibe"). I also noticed, in my dictionary wanderings today, that "hi" was not included as an entry. However, the word "high" had a total of fourteen different meanings. I knew all of them except number 12: slightly tainted, as in Game is often eaten after it has become high. Of course, I love number 14: excited by alcoholic drinks (or drugs: he's high.)

All of this has, of course, no real meaning at all.

I just wanted to say Hey.

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...and over at Fresh Starts.

You need to bookmark this site. Every Monday, Jen has a devotional for Moms, to get you through your week. It is really, really good stuff.

See you there!

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Have you heard about the senator from West Virginia who wants to ban the sale of Barbie dolls (and other similar dolls) in his state, because they promote the idea that, to get along in the world, you don't have to be smart, just pretty?

Of course, we have all heard the argument before, and it does have some merit. 

This is what my first Barbie(1962) looked like. She was the red (titian) ponytail version with the zebra-striped swimsuit. When Barbie was introduced, she was a "fashion doll," meaning that you bought One Doll, and then Many Outfits. And they were kickin' outfits, let me tell you! By the time my girls were into Barbies, you bought several to play together, all with different outfits.

I certainly understand the concern of parents at Barbie's inhuman proportions (like, a 17" waist on a 7'2" body, if the proportions were on a real person), but I think that a law to ban the sale of Barbies is one of those "putting a bandaid on a gunshot wound" kind of deal. What about "role models" such as Beyonce or Britney Spears? Celebrities who gain fifteen pounds make the covers of magazines at the checkout. Strolling through the mall could make the most "perfect" girl feel inadequate.

I remember being thirteen and awkward, with no figure at all, and my mother telling me I was beautiful. I answered that she *had* to say that, she was my mother. Of course, I have had three 13-year-old daughters now who felt the same way, and I have said the same thing to them. The key to bringing up our daughters successfully is the same as it has always been: teaching them that true beauty starts from within, that a beautiful mind is more needful than making a fashion statement. Most of all, that we have value because God made us, and nothing else we can do can give us more value than He gives us.

However, we are foolish to think that the outside doesn't matter at all. But if we teach our daughters that our adorning should begin with "that meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price," (IPeter 3:4) then we can build on that. God loves beauty, and He created us to love beauty, as well. Great shoes are wonderful! And who doesn't like pretty things to wear, as our budgets allow?

There is so much more to say on this subject. How important it is to a girl's self-esteem for her Daddy to tell her she is beautiful. To have women in her life to be *good* role-models. To talk about celebrities, and how all the trappings are a facade. (did you ever see one of those tabloid covers where they show the celebrities "caught without makeup?")

One thing I know for sure. Unless we step up to the plate to steer our daughters' paths, they *will* follow the path that is more obvious to them, or one selected by their peers. I'm also sure that Banning Barbie is *not* the answer.

You can take it from me. I have been my Daddy's "Barbie Doll," since he gave me my first one, in 1962.

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Awhile back, I wrote about Teaching Our Children to Think. This is one of the goals for our family that Charming and I discussed before we married.

Last night, while Alvin Fernald was at basketball practice, Charming, Blackeyed Susan, and I found ourselves discussing eternal security: whether or not a person can lose his salvation. (Now, I realize that some of you may differ in your belief system, and I don't say this to start some kind of discussion.) Our church is a large Pentecostal one, and many of them believe that a person can, under some circumstances, lose their salvation; Charming and I, though we did believe that for a number of years, have come to a different belief through Years of study and prayerful consideration.

Susan mentioned how, when some of her friends are talking about the issue, the arguments they use seem weak. Charming pointed out that, when we discuss this with friends, the Scriptures they use to support their argument are the same ones we use to support ours!

Then Susan said, "don't you think, that if salvation is of number 1 importance, then Losing that Salvation would be of number 2 importance, and would be mentioned more directly in the Scripture? Look at Paul--he talks about "now that we have this freedom in Christ, do we use it as an excuse to sin? God forbid!" Don't you think he would have, like, made an entire epistle dedicated to 'You can lose your salvation! Be sure not to do it!'"

Thinking! My almost-sixteen-year-old is thinking. Figuring out the reasons for what we have taught her all her life. Putting the pieces together with the things she has learned at church from cradle-hood.

My proudest moment? When she commented that we need, once we have secured this "so-great salvation," to not take it for granted, and to live our lives carefully. Not because we can lose it in a moment's time, but because of the unbelievably high price God had to pay to secure us for Himself.

I am One Proud Mama this morning!

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The other day, very early in the morning, I heard a train whistle.

I hadn't heard one in quite awhile. Granted, it *is* winter, and the windows are closed, but what I noticed when I heard it was... I noticed.

We've had train tracks close enough to hear a whistle in almost every house Charming and I have lived in since our marriage. It is such a warm, Friendly Sound, I think.

The house I grew up in was too far away from any tracks to hear. Charming, on the other hand, lived in a tiny town (actually called a Village) with a tiny depot. The story goes that, at two years of age, he wouldn't go to bed at night without going down to the depot and waving at the engineer. I have been to that place, long gone and overgrown with weeds, trying to imagine a slower time (think Mayberry!) when a young Daddy and Mommy took their toddler to see the train every evening, supper dishes done, and a long evening before them.

Our lives today are so darn Complicated. I *could* be so involved at church as to have an excuse to be there about five nights a week. Of course, I have access to a Girl's Night Out (to have time for *me*), or the gym, or myriad opportunities for my children to be Enriched: little league, ballet, on and on...

I was lucky to be raised in the fifties and early sixties, in that Mayberry time. I used to think my life was boring, because my Mother never "went anywhere." I only had a babysitter who wasn't my older sister once in my life, and that was my aunt. Now, that is the life I want, and I don't think I can have it here in 2009. Oh, I know some people *are* doing it, but I'm talking about ME here.

But I really wonder about why I hadn't noticed a train in so, so long. Am I really not hearing it, with all of the other "noise" in my life? Here I am, running my tail off while I'm wishing things would just slow down. Maybe it's because my last two children are 14 and almost 16. I always heard the train when I had pre-schoolers; I would point it out to them. Alvin Fernald was a train nut like his Daddy; all of his Thomas stuff is packed away in a big rubbermaid tub in the basement.

Hmmm. Maybe it's time to get it out, dust it off, and make a big mess putting it together. Maybe then, we can all Hear the Train once again.

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Charming and I went out last evening with Johnny Tremain and Lily, and friends Bryan and Michelle. We went to a [free!] screening of the movie Fireproof, with Kirk Cameron. If you haven't heard of it, it is about a firefighter whose marriage is troubled, and how he wins his wife's heart back to himself.

Before the screening (sponsored by a local Christian radio station) one of the morning DJ's greeted us. He asked if there were any couples married less than two years, then asked if there were any couples who Knew How Marriage Worked. My and Charming's hands went right up, and Lily and Michelle pointed at us. The crowd laughed, and the DJ made a comment about anyone needing to see us after the movie?

I realize that his question about knowing how it worked was hypothetical, and if he had asked if any couples Had It All Together, I wouldn't have...well, maybe I would have raised my hands even then. But I have been thinking about how I would answer the question, and I *do* have a few things to say. Please be advised that this is by no means an Exhaustive List:

Number One (and the list is not in any certain order, either): Marriage is like anything else, in some ways. When I was first married, I wasn't a very good cook. After 33 years, I do pretty well. In order to get to this point, I had to acquire a skill set. Part of this skill set I acquired by trial-and-error ("Barbie, it's okay if you never make this recipe again...") part of it by reading cookbooks (making use of other people's experience and *their* skill set), and part just by observation (do you know that, outside of one brownie recipe I have, I have never seen baking Powder used with cocoa? It's always baking Soda.). So, number One: get yourself a skill set. The Bible has verses like "live with your wife with understanding." There are a gazillion others. Read a good book on marriage. Go to a seminar. Find an older couple to mentor you.

Number Two: Understand how God does things. In nature, if something is not growing, it is decaying. There is no such thing as a holding pattern in living things. Did you ever see the tree trimmers coming to cut off a tree branch that is, say, obstructing a stop sign? (I'm not talking about trimming dead branches here, but one from a healthy tree.) That branch, full of leaves, falls to the ground, and it doesn't look any different than it did when it was attached to the tree. But if left alone, there would soon be evidence of decay, because it was no longer growing. You have to always be Growing your Marriage. Spend time talking. Listening. Kissing.

Number Three: I love what our pastor said one time. "A loving couple in a devoted marriage is the best picture God has to show Himself to the world." Marriage is a picture of Christ's love for His church. If you're not looking like that, do something about it. And then, let your light shine, baby!

I wish I had a green thumb. My neighbor Linda has the coolest yard. Besides gorgeous veggies, she dabbles in raspberries and blueberries. She has a large number of perennial flowers, but she is always adding bits of this and that. People will give her something from their garden. She moves this or that around to make a place for the newcomer. She is always dabbling out there, almost every single day, three seasons a year. She also gets a great reward (read: harvest) from her work.

This is How It Works, baby: Dabble every day. Move things around. Fertilize the good stuff. Trash the stuff that's not working, or that is stealing nutrients from the good stuff.

So, at 33 years and running, I know How It Works. The secret is, Keep Working.

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Blackeyed Susan, Alvin Fernald and I have just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird for school. We finished up by watching the movie last evening.

As in many cases, the book is so much richer than the movie (tho' the movie is an excellent adaptation, of course), but Susan and Alvin really benefited from *seeing* the characters, setting (Alvin: That's exactly how I pictured their street!) and the "attitude" of the day. The movie was made within a year of the book's publishing, so the feeling was the same. Alvin asked me if they would ever re-make the movie. I hope not--they would never be able to recapture the tone of that time in that place.

I read aloud two chapters a day, then we did two chapters by ourselves. My read-alouds were with a dictionary by my side: who knew that "scuppernongs" were a variety of green grape?

Their assignment for the end of the study is very timely. They'll write an essay *by* Scout as an old woman, watching the inauguration of President Obama. Like my own parents (born 1921 and 1922), Scout's (six years old in 1932 in the film) generation saw more changes in her country and her world than any other. My mother used to say she lived in the luckiest generation: they lived through the Depression and the War, but saw the post-war prosperity, and many, many conveniences and luxuries. As she aged, she saw the moral degeneration begin to become so "in-your-face." My own growing-up was much like Jem's and Scout's. We had a little more money, but summer was endless, and made-up games were the order of the day. I cannot say the same for Susan and Alvin. They know way-too-much, way-too-early. But they are growing up in the Information Age, where everything is right at hand.

I'm hoping that much thought will go into their essays. They cannot even conceive of a justice system that could ignore physical evidence and put prejudice in its stead. Or that holding people of different values could be a part of any collective consciousness. Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech ("that someday my children will be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character") is History to them, not something to be reckoned with day-to-day.

I hope Susan and Alvin "get it." We must never forget.

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100Thngs

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Go check out my blog entry today at Monday Mommies.

And check out Monday Mommies (linked on my sidebar) every Monday for a devotional to get you through your "Mommy-week!"

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I think if I had to make just one New Year's resolution, it would be not to meander through life this year.

Meander. Now, isn't that a word that means exactly what it sounds like? Especially when you add the suffix -ing:

Meandering.

Actually, in print, it looks MEAN: MEANdering!

All of the things I think I'd like to accomplish can come under that one resolution. Getting more organized. Having a defined devotional life. Getting finances under better control. Getting my Body under better control.

I love to meander through the clearance racks at any store you could name: I've got the locations memorized, and I know the most efficient way to negotiate the store, hitting all of the racks with the big red signs. I also love to meander through the thrift store, going from the clothing to the housewares to the shoes to the books. And, of course, a good long meandering walk through the woods? Nothing more relaxing, right?

But I don't see a lot about meandering in the Bible. (except that incident of the Israelites taking forty years to make a two-week trip, of course.) But I do see a lot about discipline, especially self-discipline. Discipline is Training, and I need a refresher boot-camp in that department. Just like when Dave Ramsey says, "every dollar needs a name"--well, every hour in my day and my week needs a name, as well.

I had a friend once who used to call me up every morning and keep me on the line for forty minutes or so, recounting the day before, how her husband let her down, as well as gossip of every sort about people I did and didn't know. I learned to say No to her (and other such people) who wanted a "biggie" portion of my day. Now my problem is mostly of my own making--I am perfectly capable of wasting time all by myself.

I had plans to go out of town today, which have just been cancelled. So, I guess I'd better take some time to decide some Definite ways to begin my journey.

I'll be letting you know how it goes.

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As is usual for me, at this time of year, I am looking for ways to Slow Down. Get Simple. Do less, but More With Meaning. Aren't we all looking for that?

It seems to be quite hard to do so, with three sets of family, and my own children to boot. Johnny Tremain is in the church play, and Blackeyed Susan is dancing in the Program on the Sunday before Christmas. And, don't forget Charming's work Christmas party--he is a manager, so it is on the Must Do list. My Must-do list is long, and I don't even have a School Holiday Program to deal with!

We have been on this mission for our entire life-with-children. We wanted to keep the gift thing simple: three gifts for each, just like Jesus received. The Problem was Charming--as Christmas approached every year, he began thinking of more and more gifts that he wanted to give the children. Our admonishment that "this is not going to be a *big* Christmas" became a family joke.

I can't really blame Charming--he is not alone in being a generous father. Our heavenly Father loves us more than any earthly father can--and doesn't He "lavish us with gifts" that we can't even number?

The last couple of years, we have had a smaller Christmas because we purposed to do so. We only have two children at home (tho' we have four adult single children, who don't have families of their own), and so the pile under the tree is, by default, smaller...

...but not less complicated. Crafting gifts by hand does save money, but not time. We decided with our first grandchild, that our gifts for the grands would be books or handmade toys. I love to make flannel jammies or knit scarves (I did that two years ago--eighteen scarves!), and I harbor a dream of making everyone in the family a pair of red mittens (should have taken care of that while the kids were still at home: would have been ten pairs, instead of nineteen-and-counting....). Wonderful food mixes or cookies or fudge--also good, except that isn't my favorite thing to do.

So here I am, again. In the summertime, all this looks so simple: make a plan, and don't let it get out of hand. And, if you think you were going to find an answer here...ha ha on YOU!!

I am seeing a recurring theme in my blog-travels this season--don't be so frugal that you worry about spending money [that you Have in Hand--I'm a Dave Ramsey girl], and don't feel guilty if you do Buy presents instead of Thrifting them or Making them or whatever.

I (in my own Infinite Wisdom here) do have a couple of rules of thumb: 1) don't buy frivolous presents; that is, don't buy something just to be buying something. Make sure that it is a gift that will be appreciated and used. I can't tell you the number of times I have found a *perfect* gift in the thrift store. The bonus was saving money; the Real Deal was Finding the Perfection. But if your Perfect Gift is a little pricier, and in the department store, if you have the money, Go For It. 2) Every year when we "attempted" to give the children only three gifts, we used this rule of thumb: give Something to Wear, Something to Read, and Something to Do. I used their own wishes for the something to do, gave good books for their own collections, and, of course, clothing served a double purpose as a gift/need thing.

Where else but in America do we angst about not having a simple life? Last year, I went to the library for the book Hundred Dollar Christmas, a book about simplifying the holiday. I found it on a table display of at least forty books on Making Your Life More Simple. What, living simply is an Industry now?

Another problem I have had (gollee, this is getting long, sorry) is the Wonderful Holiday Tradition thing. Charming grew up in a home with several traditions; so did I. When we combine these with the Number of Cool Traditions in our own family, as well as any number of new ones in the Simple Holiday books....

...can't do everything.

Wow. Epiphany. Light bulb Moment.

If you're like me (the all-or-nothing girl) deciding is the most difficult...decision. Maybe you can't get to your ideal in one year. The last two or three years I have liked better and better. Maybe I'm on the Path to being Satisfied.

Nah. That prob'ly won't happen. But I'll die trying. 

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Charming says I'm a hypocrite. I blogged here about how I wasn't going to the after-Thanksgiving sales. Well, I had no desire to go--it was LILY who dragged me out! And, it wasn't at 4 am, it was going-on 7 a.m.

And, it was only to the fabric store. Not that JoAnn's wasn't a madhouse. Our friend grabbed a "take-a-number" when we first started shopping, so that we wouldn't have to wait so long in the cutting line. And the line for the register, tho' it had to be 30 or 35 people long, only took 15 minutes to go through. Seven registers move you along pretty quickly.

I still stand by my blogpost, tho'. It doesn't hold the Adventure it used to. I'm glad I got my bargains at those great prices, though, so I won't try to rationalize it any more.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault." Yep, I still remember Latin Mass back-in-the-day.

Or, maybe this comes under the "confess your faults one to another" thing. In any case...

Charming, get off my back.

(love ya'.)

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Wow, you never really know all about your parents.

My father, who is 86 years old, told me a story yesterday that I had never heard. When he was eleven years old, he went to the Chicago World's Fair (1933). He and his father started out about 3:30 am, and went to a different town to pick up my grandfather's cousin, Tom. A little ways up the highway, they stopped at an all-night diner to get some breakfast. As they left the restaurant, Tom asked my grandfather (Dick) what time it was. [at this point, my father said, "Dad was always extremely precise about the time."] "The time is 4:30 am, exactly."

They arrived in Chicago near eight o'clock. Grandpa gave Dad some money, and told him "to meet back here at six o'clock." Can you imagine leaving an eleven year-old to his own devices for ten hours anytime, much less at a World's Fair? [shudder]

Daddy told me, "I knew why they sent me off by myself--they wanted to spend the day at the Girly-shows."

tee. hee. I imagine they were exhibits called "Spices of Asia," or "Arabian Beauties," or some-such. Daddy, like so many boys of his time, was an airplane fanatic. Besides the many airplane exhibits (Dad specifically mentioned the 1933 Lockheed Cargo Carrier), there were plenty of freak shows and other carnival fare. He said he had planned to ride the Sky-ride to the man-made island that was a big attraction, but one of the cars had crashed the day before. Eleven year-old Adventurer that he was, he wasn't foolishly careless. Good for *me*, or maybe I wouldn't be here!

When they got home, they heard on the radio that John Dillinger and his gang had broken into a jail in a little town in Indiana that morning.

Across the street from the little diner where they had had breakfast.

At Exactly 4:30 a.m.

Somehow, I don't feel like I've had a very exciting life, ya' know?

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We voted yesterday, on a day that was sunny and 75 degrees. Now, *that* doesn't happen every time. We live just a block from our polling place, so we always walk. Blackeyed Susan and Alvin Fernald accompanied me, as they have every election since they were born. Since it was Charming's day off, he was able to vote with me at the same time. An added bonus was that Lily and the children drove up just as we arrived!

Lily went the extra mile. Tuesday morning, a nine-months' pregant friend with two toddlers told her that her babysitting hadn't worked out, and that she was not going to be able to vote. Lily went to her home with her own four, During Naptime, to allow her friend to vote. Now *that* is going the extra mile!

We treated ourselves to KFC for supper, as we gathered around the tv to watch election returns. As the night went on, of course, it began to be apparent that our candidate was going to lose. Susan and Alvin began to get a little worried about their immediate futures: well, we had had more than a few discussions about What Would Our Country Come To if the "other candidate" were elected...

So, here is the discussion from that point:

God is still on the throne. The Bible clearly states that He is the one who gives power--"He lifts one up and takes another down." When Jesus stood before Pilate, and Pilate said to Him, "don't you know I have the power to crucify you?" Jesus replied, "you have now power except what My Father has given you."

Life is gonna look Pretty Much The Same for them. This morning we are Still Doing Schoolwork. Tonight is Still Youth Group. They may still hear complaints as the new administration gets to work, but we have survived tax-and-spend administrations before.

Not sure if this is Judgment on America, or just a cyclical political thing. We have always had One Party for awhile, then Another Party takes over. It has happened for over two hundred years. Just like the Present Financial Crisis. It is not the end of the world. If I remember correctly, one or two people survived the Great Depression. If we believe that God is our provider, then we need to pay attention to Him, and not look at the political arena to decide whether or not to panic.

Am I disappointed? Yes, definitely. Things don't bode well for things such as Supreme Court nominations for the next four years. But God calls me to follow HIM, and for me, today, that means doing the Next Thing.

God is good. All the time. Yep, He really is.

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