His Mother's Sister

This time of year I naturally think of the very first Christmas. I try to imagine what it would be like to get a visit from an angel, find out I'm pregnant, almost lose my fiance' and then have to travel far from home and give birth in a barn. Doesn't sound too fun. The focus many times is on Mary and it makes sense. I'm singing Breath of Heaven with two friends tomorrow night and the lyrics very much take us inside Mary's mind and how she may have felt. I'm glad that we now have some songs that talk about Joseph and the thoughts that must have been going through his mind. But this weekend I found myself wondering about Jesus' extended family. My niece McKenna turned one on the 21st. She is a bucket of fun for sure. She has a thousand expressions and each one of them priceless. I find myself watching her, just being herself and loving her more and more because of it. So Sunday was a big day, not only was she turning one with a big party, but she was also dedicated in church. We braved the icy conditions to watch my sister and brother-in-law promise to raise her in faith. Their prayer and the prayer of all of us, is that she come to know Christ as her savior. I had the rare pleasure of staying at my sister's house all weekend. I had a company Christmas party in the area Friday night and then stayed to help with decorations or whatever needed to be done. Saturday was my time to keep McKenna occupied. We had a lot of fun together. I kind of felt badly that Janelle and Brad were running around, cooking, fixing things, and I'm watching some imagination show with McKenna. But being a fantastic Aunt has it's price and I was willing to make the sacrifice. When it was time for McKenna's bottle I was told that she would probably fall asleep and I was glad because she is so active I don't get to hold her much. So, true to fashion, she sucked the bottle dry and fell asleep. I sat there and watched her for a while. Peaceful, still, quiet. I became tired myself and settled into the comfy chair. I closed my eyes and began to pray. I thanked the Lord for McKenna, what she means to me already in her short life so far. I praised God for his blessing, for her parents wanting to show her what it means to be a Christian. I prayed that she would someday come to know Jesus as her own. I prayed that she would be kept from harm, danger, terrible things too many in this world have seen. I prayed that when she faces rejection or disappointment she would always come back to the Throne of Grace for comfort. As I sat there holding her I began to cry. I realized it is because I love her so much. I realized it was because she would face rejection, disappointment, and there is no guarantee of her safety. It hit me how much is in the hands of God. How we must trust Him regardless of circumstance. I love each one of my nieces and nephews as much as I humanly know how. And knowing that it cannot possibly be as much as their respective parents love them is truly amazing to me. So all of those feelings I was feeling I imagine would be magnified exponentially. Still I do not discredit my love for this little one. So I began to wonder if Jesus had any aunts. I did some searching on the Internet and found John 19:25 "Now standing beside Jesus’ cross were his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene." How many times I must have read this verse or heard in in an Easter message and never realized He had an Aunt. I don't know much more about her, but I know she was at the cross when he died. And as much as I always thought about Mary and how terrible it must have been to witness her son's death. I can relate to His mother's sister. I wonder how much fun she had with Him when he was a boy. If she tried to hang him upside down and kiss his forehead only to be told, please don't do that. I wonder if she was sad when she had to go home because she just wanted to stay and watch Him play. I wonder if she ever held him while he slept and prayed for Him. I wonder if she was there when he was dedicated in the temple and saw Anna prophesy over him and Simeon praise the Lord for seeing the face of His redemption. And I wonder if she pondered those things in her heart as well. I have a deeper appreciation for this woman because I am her mother's sister.

Time Time Time, What's Become of Me?

Last Friday marked the one year anniversary of my grandfather's death. Leading up to Friday, some of us in my family would remark on how it is almost a year already, or can you believe it is almost a year. It is strange. The year goes so quickly and yet it seems as though it was longer than that in some regards. Time is a funny thing. Sometimes five minutes seem like and eternity and then fifteen can go by in a second. It made me think how I still measure time and my Pop-Pop doesn't. I thought of a service at Pinebrook about twenty years ago. We sang "Every Day With Jesus, Is Sweeter Than The Day Before". As is the custom at some hymn sings the song leader asked for testimonies. He asked if anyone could agree with the song, any true life stories. My grandfather stood up and said he had been a Christian for over fifty years and every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before. I'm ashamed to say this now, but at the time I thought it was nice, but wondered if he just said it so that the song leader would move on. I know better now, my grandfather would have just sat there and not said anything if he didn't believe it. And knowing him as I grew up, I could see that he really did believe it. Perhaps the most wonderful thing is that I can see that becoming true in my life. I look back over the year and see how sadness a year ago has been turned into rejoicing for a loved one gone home. How in years past I've seen God provide in ways I could never have imagined. How it is Him and me for life. What better gift could I be given in this life. And while my sweeter than the day before is still going on, my grandfather is in the sweet by an by. I cannot imagine what it will be like to not look forward to anything. I look forward to family gatherings, holidays, bonuses, all sorts of things. But to finally be perfectly content in Heaven will be a feeling never experienced on earth. It doesn't get any better than Heaven. I just think that is a really wonderful thought.

Sometimes I Am Not Very Thankful

Today I had to go to the bank for work and then I decided to go to the grocery store right next to it and get my lunch and a few things for our Mexican Thanksgiving tomorrow. Of course the car in front of me must have been waiting for their money to be wired from Switzerland because they took forever and a day. I finally finish with the bank and go to the store. I grab this grab that, oh excuse me, this and that, move it lady, shut up kid, you know all the things that always happen, but are heightened because of my lack of time. I get to my salad bar that I always get at the grocery store. I love it. Cheap, healthy, quick. Not today, instead of beautiful sliced colorful peppers and an array of assorted lettuce, there were pre-packaged fruit and veggie trays. Not one piece of cut lettuce to be found. I looked at the hot bar, no gracias. I looked at the ready made sandwiches and chose turkey and swiss, not what I wanted, but it would have to do. I finished the rest of my running around like a headless chicken routine, paid and said a not too heartfelt Happy Thanksgiving to the cashier and the bell ringer, got back here and complained that the salad bar was not out today. I said that I should be "thankful" (sad to say, I actually did the air quote thing) because that is the reason for this season. I sat down to eat it and thought, no dumb head, you should be thankful because it is there. You have a meal, how many people in this world don't? Did I have to pick the bugs off of it? Did I have to cut off the moldy part off any one of the components to the sandwich? Did I have to buy it? Was I guaranteed the money to be able to buy it in the first place? Not the best start to the Holiday season, but I hope it has kicked me in the rear enough to realize what is important, and to find that in everything I should give thanks.

There's Always A Catch 97

I heard the funniest thing yesterday. My grandmother told me she saw two ten dollar coupons for a store in the paper. They were good for anything ten dollars or more. She is a coupon junkie, so naturally, she went. And though she has gotten money back from coupons at times she was hoping to come out pretty even. She told me of her struggle to find something that was over ten without being too much over, but she found slippers that were 10.97. When she got to the cashier she was told that she could not use the coupon. In the fine print it said it was not good on anything ending in a 97. I had to take a minute and let that sink in. I started laughing. Probably harder than she thought was warrented, but it just struck me so funny how we like to pull everyone in with a free ten dollars and then say, oh, sorry, there is a catch. You can't use it on your birthday, if you had cereal for breakfast, your last name starts with a Y, you are an only child, know an only child, have ever eaten a chili dog, or if you can sit throught the entire song of K.C. and The Sunshine Band's, "Shake Your Booty". Seriously, if something is given, shouldn't it be given. I know some who are not Christians may look at the Christian life this way. You are "free" but you can't do this, this, and this. I'm just so glad that it really isn't like that. Because unlike the coupon in the paper. The headline the world wants you to read is the list of things we should not do. The fine print however is so wonderful. It says, no you shouldn't do them because now you are free. Now you are no longer a slave to sin, but a servant to righteousness. I have the ability to do all the things I should not. The key is to live my life as much a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God for the free gift of salvation, with no fine print, that I don't want to do any of those things. But the most wonderful thing is that there is always grace. Grace that when I do mess up, I am loved as much that day as I was when He thought of me as He gave himself for me. No catch anything there!

Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles

Last night I was able to accomplish something I had not been able to do in all my 30 years on this planet. I was able to visit my Nana without eating ice cream. I know those of you who do not know my Nana are thinking, really, that is a big wonder, some fantastic miracle? And those of you who know my Nana or have her as your Nana will be calling me for my secret. Nana, Nana. Just thought I'd write it a few more times. But to sum it up best, I just never gave up hope. She is the funniest woman in the world. Not that she is telling jokes and wanting to make you laugh, she just is funny. As long as I can remember, there has always been ice cream in her freezer. You go and visit, you may get away with it for a while, but eventually, she will say, "How about some ice cream." To which, you could reply any number of things, but the result will be you eating more than you had planned. I remember talking to my friend at work and telling her that I cannot say "no" to my Nana. She said, "You are an adult, that is rediculous!" To which I responded, you just don't know my Nana. She just wants to make sure you have had enough to eat. When I call and ask to come and visit, she says sure, and the next thing out of her mouth is what she can offer me for dinner. And if it would happen to be soup, or grilled cheese, or cereal, well she apologizes and says it will hold you until you eat right. Which when my grandfather said it, was a joke, but she is being serious. Saturday I had been there and brought her a small loaf of banana bread my mother had made for her. She saved some of it for yesterday. If you have had my mother's banana bread you know the discipline not to eat it all in one sitting let alone save it for a possible guest four days later. She offered it to me which I could not say no to because she had saved it for me. You see, she is thoughtful to the point that it makes you feel guilty if you refuse it. And so while her ice cream just sat in the freezer, the banana bread was a different story. She told me that when I left Saturday she felt badly that she did not offer me the banana bread that night. I said Nana it is for you, don't worry, I never leave here hungry. Full and a little queezy sometimes, but never hungry. She said I always think of what else I could have offered, I just don't think of it at the time and then I feel badly. And that is when it hit me. The devil is a big freakin' jerk. Here is my Nana, she is going to be 87 next month. She has raised three children, helped nuture ten grandchildren and twelve great-grandchildren, tirelessly cared for her ailing husband, and still she has insecurities about not doing or giving enough. She does too much really. One time I was over and she offered me a peach, I started to peel it and she was so upset she didn't do it for me. I said, I can do it, it is no problem. Well, you who know her, know she peeled it. The woman has arthritis, she has a shoulder out of socket, and has osteoporosis, but she does everything she possibly can. But Satan knows our weaknesses and he digs in deep. I know I have conversations with myself after parties or discussions or small group wondering if that was taken the wrong way, "I hope they didn't think I meant that!" Or my mom who is fantastic at menus and baking and getting things together for pot lucks and banguets. She is mulling over menus for weeks, trying things out, then once the occasion is here she hopes the people enjoy it and wants to know if everyone liked it. The answer is always yes. Still we wonder, we worry, we become second guessers. I think maybe too we worry about what people think of us too much.

Oprah speaks of hyperbole

I watched a clip of Oprah being interviewed last Tuesday as the nation voted in our 44th president. The results were not even in yet and the interviewer posed the question. What does this night mean for you. Oprah said there are not even words to talk about what the night means for her. She said that the word historic keeps being said, but that there has never been a night like this on the planet earth. Nothing can compare to this. I understand her sentiment and get the reference to the first black president of the United States. In no way am I diminishing the acheivement of overcoming racism to reach the highest office in the nation. I do find it a rediculous statement to say there has never been a night like this in the history of the earth. The reason being it places so much importance on ourselves. We become the qualifying ingredient for the greatness of the moment. Would the moment be any less great if she were not there? Or if she were white? It isn't about Oprah bashing, it is about how we have all become egocentric. So we could all agree that the earth is not the center of the universe, but we've begun to think even smaller than that, we now think we are.

Settle This Like Men

With all of the back and forth and purchased airtime for propaganda, I think we have lost sight of what is truly important in this election. What are the values of the American people? What do we spend our time on, give our attentions to, and where do we spend our money? We don't care about social issues, human rights, or constitutional integrity, no, we care about rhythm! Ella was right, vote for Mr. Rhythm. So, I am proposing the election be settled in a new way, the change we really need. We should just have a Great American Dance Off For The Presidency! Where the feet do the talking and hips don't lie. Yes ladies and gentlemen, each candidate will have 90 seconds to perform an interpretive dance to the soundtrack of their choosing. It should be a narrative of the state they see the nation in today. There will be a follow up round comprised of a two minute contemporary piece from each candidate that is to be the proposed changes they feel would correct our troubled world. To spice things up, the running mate for each candidate will provide the soundtrack for this round. All forms of musical instrumentation are acceptable and encouraged. There will be extra points if they can tastefully incorporate a didgeridoo. This will show adequate foreign policy experience and tactfullnes. After both candidates have completed, the phone lines will be opened for two hours and you can vote as many times as you'd like for the one you want to keep in the running. The votes will tabulated by an outsourced company in Bombay. The following week, we will tune in to see who is the next President. The losing candidate will say goodbye with a reprise of his first piece. No voter registration worries here! And best of all, no Ryan Seacrest. The world is looking to be a better place already!

What Is The Deal With Fire?

You have to read the title like Jerry Seinfeld would say it.  I was watching the news and because the Phillies won the World Series they were showing live coverage of Broad Street.  There were a bunch of fires burning in the street.  If I didn't know that it was a celebration, I would have thought it was a riot for some political protest.  I myself am going to a bon fire on Saturday night and cannot wait, but I'm not going to be getting up on hay bales and shouting crazy yays.  It makes me think how funny it is that we celebrate with fire and protest with fire.  Why fire? Now, I am not a macro-evolutionist by any stretch of the God designed imagination.  But if we are so evolved as a human species, why do we revert to such "primitive" displays of expression? 

Pyromaniacs Unite!

Missing The Point

A few weeks ago I was in small group and we were studying the feeding of the five-thousand.  We watch it first on a video series where they re enact the gospel of John.  It is really very good.  It is just good to confront how real these stories truly are.  They really happened.  So we watch the passage we are talking about and as they pass out the bread and fish, I am distracted by the presence of baskets.  I keep seeing baskets come out of nowhere.  I understand this is a representation and that it was a miracle and by definition you cannot explain a miracle, but I got so hung up on the baskets.  I kept thinking, at least there was fish and bread to start with.  Did someone have a basket there in the wilderness? Where did he get baskets? During the course of the evening and with our discussion I confessed my lack of basket faith.  It sounded so stupid as I spoke the words.  I believed that the fish and bread were multiplied, but wanted to know where the baskets came from.  Why do I do that? Why do I see God work miracles and then ask how? Or worse doubt that He will do it again.  I am reminded of a class at Messiah in which the professor told me the story of creation in Genesis could not be true.  His reason? Plants were created before the sun and plants cannot survive without light.  Nevermind the fact that God said he created light and darkness the first day.  If he said He did it, He did it.  The most striking thing to me was that this professor said he was a Christian.  Does anything about the work of the cross make sense? Does it make sense that the creator of the world would redeem a wretched creation that turned their backs on Him? I found myself on the same side as that professor now, trying with my feeble fallen mind to explain the mysteries of Heaven.  What arrogance.  If I could, I should have washed my mind out with soap.  So I am reminded that though miracles are unexplainable, if I'm trusting God for salvation, I have to trust that everything He says is true.  Everything, otherwise, how could I trust Him to be honest when it comes to salvation.  So, while I don't know how he made baskets from nothing, He did.  And while I don't know how He could speak words and matter appear, I know it did.  And for the life of me, I will never know why or how He could love me enough to die for me, but I know He did.  

Memories Are Made of This

The memory walk was a success. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, but still pleasant. We got there registered, got some t-shirts, and then took our team picture. We decided to do the long loop so that we would not get bored going around the track 12 times. So, we all started at the ceremonial ribbon cutting and followed the mass of slow moving people. The first lap took a long time. But once we completed the first lap most of the people stopped. Either they were not familiar with how long a 5k was or just didn't care. Regardless, we were able to step it up and complete the walk. The only thing was we were not certain if it was two or three times around. Even after asking some of the even staff we didn't know. So, we all decided to go three times. It seemed most logical. The third time around we didn't exactly end where we started. I have this thing about not really finishing, it kind of nudges at me until I do. Even when I'm alone at the track, I have to end where I started. It is probably some OCD thing, but it's me. I was talking with everyone and it got to the point where I couldn't stand it, I said, I'll be right back. I walked by the table, got a banana and a water and proceeded to finish line. By this time everyone had ended and they were drawing the raffle prizes. I continued around the last part of the loop and as I neared the table with the DJ and prize callers, Dean Martin began to serenade me. Memories are made of this. Now, I've told you before I love music that is not of my time. This is from the 50's I believe, but it would be a song that my Pop-Pop knew. I couldn't help but smile and think how wonderful it was for God to allow that song to be played at the very moment I finished the walk. Who needs an ipod when you have the Lord choosing the soundtrack to your life? I love things like that. It is like getting a love note from heaven. So all of it was some really good times. I look forward to next year!

Almost A Year, And A Lifetime Of Memories

Tomorrow I will be participating in my very first Memory walk for the Alzheimer's Association.  I say my first because I have a feeling I will continue to do this for many years.  My grandfather had Alzheimer's and passed away last November.  It was a very difficult time.  You may be wondering why, as if I didn't know what Alzheimer's would do.  No, I knew, you just can never fully prepare yourself for saying the "final" goodbye.  He was such a fighter too.  He would have a set back and then come back stronger than ever.  I thought he would do that for many more years, so even though he was sick and by the end of his life also had bone cancer, you just keep hoping, keep praying that he would "get better".  And better meant, back to what he was at last count, not even like the Pop-Pop I knew for so many years.  

Pop-Pop loved music.  He would always have it playing when you dropped in to see them.  Not just for Christmas and special occasions, always, always.  He just loved it.  I made a CD for his and my Nana's 60th wedding anniversary with two songs on it, "Too Young" and "Grow Old With Me".  He loved it and I thought he was just being nice.  No, he would ask me every once in a while to sing it, but I always felt dumb just breaking into my rendition and singing to him.  So, he would start, I would sing a few notes, and then he would go on.  He had a very nice voice too, so it was nice to hear just him.  I remember when he began to no longer like music.  Not that he didn't like it at all, but it began to annoy him at times.  One time when we visited him in the Alzheimer unit after an episode we took him into a music room.  We started to play a classical record.  He said to turn off the racket or garbage, some term that made us know it was not enjoyable.  It hurt to know that the disease was taking parts of him away.  Some time later when he was well enough to be in a wheelchair and out of his room, I went to visit him.  It was a rare time that I was the only one there with him.  My Nana is the unsung hero in all of this, I will have to write more on her later because volumes could be written on her faithfulness to her husband.  I was sitting with him and conversation was not the easiest.  He had protective mittens on his hands.  He was a fiddler.  He was a machinist by trade and that desire to work with his hands, fiddle something until it was fixed never left him.  So, for his protection with IVs and all, he had mittens.  One of the hardest things I've ever done was sit next to my Pop-Pop and answer his plea to "Take these things off" with "I wish I could, but I can't."  He was a very people wise man even in his disease and he said "Yes you can!"  I didn't know what to do, so I started to hum, more for my sanity than his.  He got quiet and said, "Hey, bring some of that over here."  I said, "What?"  "Whatever it is that you are doing", was his reply.  He had a funny way of speaking that just made me laugh.  I was grateful for the snippets of my grandfather that I was able to see every now and then.  During his illness and when we knew the end was near and hospice was helping him be as comfortable as possible I kept hearing the song "Be Unto Your Name".  The words just hit me so hard each time.  

We are a moment, you are forever.  Lord of the ages, God before time.  We are a vapor, you are eternal, Love everlasting, reigning on high.  Holy Holy Lord God almighty, worthy is the 

Lamb who was slain, Highest Praises Honor and Glory be unto Your Name.  We are the broken, You are the Healer.  Jesus Redeemer, Mighty to save.  You are the love song we'll sing forever, bowing before You, blessing Your name.  Holy Holy Lord God almighty, Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, Highest Praises Honor and Glory Be unto Your name.  

When I think about being in Heaven and singing praise to the Lord, I cannot help but be aware of the limits of my language to describe such a wonderful and truly beautiful thing.  And this is just imagining it.  I would here this song and think, only a little longer until Pop-Pop will be there and sing this for his King.  It was not easy to sing that song in church, even in the car.  I wanted him to go Home and yet, I wanted him here.  Each time we left him, we didn't know if it would be the last.    

I am so glad that the last thing I said to him was "I'm glad you will get to meet Jesus soon."  Though I was sad he had passed away, I knew he was Home.  He is now complete and fully well.  My sister Michelle and I sang "Be Unto Your Name" at the funeral.  It was one of the most surreal experiences.  I kept thinking about Pop-Pop singing along with us.  How he was able to sing, just any song, but praises to the King and without end.  That song is still difficult to hear.  It was played in church not too long after the funeral, and again at my cousin Jason's commissioning service.  I couldn't sing the whole thing.  That is okay, I will someday.  I thought of that song last night.  I thought of how I don't listen to it much anymore and what shame it is .  Then I really felt selfish, really selfish because I still find myself wanting him back here.  And not just him, my Nana and Pop-Pop Musselman too.  They died when I was so young and I've often felt like I didn't get enough time with them.  But then I thought, they are singing praises too.  They are Home.  Why would I want them for one second to be back here.  What is so great about here that could ever in a million years compare to where they are?  And so I am trying no longer to think that I'm missing out on them.  Or that they are missing out on things here.  And is in normal to wish that they could all know my nieces and nephews and me as an adult.  But I'll see them again.  I'll be with them at the wedding of the church to The Lamb.  And so tomorrow as I walk, I will be thinking of my Pop-Pop.  And also of my other grandparents.  But, I think it will be more of fondness, not sadness.  I want to walk thinking of them being happy.  My family will be with me too and that will make it nice to have young children as a distraction from melancholy thoughts.  I don't know why Alzheimer's has to be something in this life.  It truly is a terrible thing.  So is stroke, heart disease, cancer, and any myriad of other calamities and ailments that strike these things we call bodies.  I'm just glad to know that is only for a moment.  Only for a time.  And though we always want healing of the physical body.  The ultimate is the healing of the spirit.  I'm so thankful for the Christian heritage I have.  For being told about the redeeming work of Jesus on the cross and trusting Him for my own salvation.  So while it is easy to ask "Why me" when something terrible happens.  It is humbling to think that in spite of me, He has given me the gift of eternal life.       

The Facts, Just The Facts

With all of the bruhaha of the election process going on there are many opportunities to get facts. There are even more opportunities to get non facts. I am reminded of being younger and going to my mother and telling her the latest atrocity any one of my siblings had done to me. She would always ask me, "And what did you do?" Interesting how when you are five you are taught that there are two sides to every story. It seems that a degree in journalism can sometimes erase that lesson from memory. I understand we all have biases. It is natural, we are human. I am much more "Republican" in thinking than not. However, I do not agree with every Republican, I do not disagree with every Democrat. This election year I have looked for truth from many sources. It is not a simple task. I know some people have been spreading rumors. When I hear someone say something that sounds contrived, I say, how do you know that? Many times they are almost offended by the question. As if to say, who cares, isn't it scary, isn't it the most deplorable thing you have ever heard. Well yes, but so are the tales from the cript, but I dont' believe them to be true, just disgusting. I get tired of it all. Let's focus on ideals. Are you for big government or little government? What issues are close to your being? What candidate best mirrors your beliefs and convictions? I am not 100% for any candidate. In the few elections I have been eligible to vote in, I have never once agreed on every single issue. It isn't going to happen. I can't agree with my siblings on nearly anything, how am I going to agree with one person who is suppose to represent millions of people. If I hear one more person tell me I love George Bush because I'm a Republican I may lose my right to vote for being a convicted felon. That makes as much sense as me loving Joel Osteen because he is a "christian". I just get to the point where I don't want to talk to people about politics. The reason being, it is tiresome. Of course, I say that and then the next day you find me talking about it again. Does that make me a waffler, a political opportunist ready to change at the drop of a hat? There goes my future bid for public office. Somehow I believe I will make it through the day. So really the whole point is this. The next time you hear that Barack Obama is really a little person using stilts who is addicted to crystal meth and that John McCain had all of his skin replaced and takes baths in crude oil, look to find a credible source to confirm those things before you repeat them. Please, for the sake of all that is logical, although I did hear that Al Gore is an android that is remotely controlled by Stephen Hawking.

Panera Bread and Barbie Doll Karaoke

My niece Erin turned nine the early part of September. Nine! Nine. I am slowly coming to the realization, so if I have to interject nine every so often, it is only because I need to let reality sink in. I remember like it was yesterday, getting the call at Messiah that she had been born. I came home that weekend and held her and fell in love with her. Now she is into Hannah Montana, gibits for crocks, fashion, attitude, and hilarity. This girl is funniest when she is not even trying. Anyway, I told her I wanted to take her out for lunch. She said she was thinking Friendly's. I had to laugh at her phrase, "I'm thinking". So, Saturday came, I'm gearing myself up for Friendly's, not a big fan of the food. I've been there a few times and it just seems greasy to me. A bunch of fried food chased down with a sundae, yummm. So, I get there and much to my surprise and delight she has changed her mind and would like to go to Panera. I love Panera. She already knows what she is getting too, broccoli cheddar soup in a bread bowl. This girl cracks me up. She has been eating soup and salad since she was three or four. My brother hadn't had a bowl of soup to himself from the time that girl was old enough to have it. We order and then when asked what she wants to drink, she says "Root beer, it's Saturday, it's a root beer day." A girl after my own heart. So, she is sitting at the table, eating her soup and talking about many things. At one point I told her I didn't get the Disney channel anymore and she couldn't watch Hanna Montana at my apartment. She said, "Do you still get American Idol?", I said yes, she says, "Then we're good." What twenty year old has possessed the body of my niece? She is a complex mixture of maturity and lack of coordination. She spilled soda down the front of her shirt, again, my soul sister. I can only hope she grows out of her clumsiness. I am stricken for life. She remarks on the size of the cookies they sell at Panera, and when I ask if she would like one, she declines. She's so healthy. On the way to the restaurant, she had remarked about the thrift store she refers to as Miss Angie's. So, we go in and look for a suitable toy, outfit, whatever. We walk in, I pick up some skirts, some shirts, she feels the fabric and gives it a veto. She looks at the toys on the top shelf and has trouble seeing, so I pick her up. I laugh to myself because though she is nine, I cherish the fact I can still pick her up. She asks if I will still pick her up when she is 15. I say, I don't think so. So, she spies a barbie song machine. Being the wonderful Aunt I am, I buy it for her. In the car she looks for batteries, it has none. She is not worried, they have some at home. So, she sits and takes the headset and puts it on. I turn on the radio. We start singing. We didn't know any of the songs and there was a Patsy Cline CD in the player so I turned it on. I ask to use the little microphone that also came with the barbie machine. So, here we are driving down the road, singing along to Patsy. Erin has a headset and I have a pink little microphone. I got quite a few looks that day as I passed people and made some turns. The best look though was from Erin. She was having a grand old time. She was having fun, and I could tell she was glad I was joining in the fun too, not caring who saw me. That is one of those moments I will remember for a lifetime. Nothing huge or monumental, just a late summer Saturday afternoon with my niece, singing in the car, using play microphones, and being the rock stars that we are.

My Dad Is Tops

My Honda needed some work done, new brake shoes, an oil change, and tire rotation.  I had no idea what brake shoes even were.  I said, Dad, I will get someone to do them.  He said, no, I will do them.  Turns out because of vacations and scheduling we couldn't do them until yesterday.  I say we, I got tools and pieces, but we all know who did the work.  So, I'm sitting there watching my dad change these shoes.  It wasn't going so well at first.  He never changed them on a Honda before and it was a pain in the rear! Never mind the fact that it was hot as a mother yesterday and they had no fan to bring out to the garage! Of course the hottest day in a while and that is the day we need to get this done.  So, he's fiddling, trying this way, trying that way.  I could tell it was getting old.  I tried to suggest things or help pull the springs to the correct spot.  Turns out my help is no help at all at times.  It's okay, I understand.  But, I thought I had to at least offer to help.  So, it takes nearly 45 minutes to get the first one on and I'm thinking, oh, the second is going to be time for cursing.  But, I forgot how mechanical my dad is and the second took 10 minutes.  Turns out, the order is muy importante.  The second one really went by quickly, I was trying to get something out of my eye and the next time I looked up, it was done.  We rotated the tires, I tightened lug nuts.  Woo hoo, watch me go.  We also wanted to do an oil change and I thought he would say let's do this another day.  But no, we jacked up the front of the car and we drained the oil.  Now the oil filter on a Honda is a mystery.  You can reach it, but you cannot see it.  So, that was a bit of a fun time too.  So, two and some hours later, we are both covered in car dirt, sweaty as all get out and tired.  You see, this would all be wonderful regardless, but knowing that my dad has some muscle damage from his motorcycle accident a few years ago makes it humbling.  I am amazed by my Dad's spirit of service to his grown daughter, all to help me save 300 bucks or so.  Some would say it is stubbornness on his part.  I'm not going to say there is none of that, but more than that, I know he was just helping me out.  I often think about all of the things he has done for me over my lifetime.  I cannot possibly repay him for all of his love, encouragement, help, and time spent with him.  Even though I think I'm so independent and grown up, I just couldn't help remember being little and riding big wheels in his basement office while he worked.  Or just playing outside while he was in the garage working on something.  I kind of reverted to that on Sunday, just watching my dad work.  I'm so thankful he could help me and even more thankful he is a man of his word regardless of the heat or level of difficulty for the task.  And that ladies and gentlemen is why my dad is tops!     

In Honor of Marine Captain Jesse Melton III

Yesterday I received the sad news that Jesse Melton, a Captain in the Marine forces was killed in duty on the 9th of September. I was first asked if I remembered him. Immediately I knew who he was. He was in many of my classes at Messiah. Each time I would enter a class for the first time I would look for certain people. He was one of them. If he was in the room, I knew it would be a good class. He was not a showy person or loud, or arrogant in any way. If anything he tried to come to class, learn his stuff, get the good grades, and go on his way. I say he tried because he was one of the most naturally funny people I have ever met. It didn't even have to be a word. A simple expression on his face said a thousand words and every one of them funny. I remember an acting class in which we had to re-enact a pivotal moment in our lives. He chose to re-enact the day he graduated from training and became a Marine. He walked up in his casual way and when he was ready, immediately went into marine stance and transported us all to the field; music playing, people cheering, moms crying, and officers saluting. I watched in amazement as the look of determination and pride overtook his countenance. A single tear streamed down his face. I remember being so impressed by such pride and accomplishment at such a young age. He did it as a re-enactment, but I felt as if I saw the original. He was committed to serving this country then, and he followed that commitment to his death. He is what it truly means to be an American Hero. My heart breaks for his family. Please take a moment to read the report from his local news station. He is why this is still the land of the free and the home of the brave. I will never forget Jesse. I am humbled by his sacrifice.
http://www.abc2news.com/news/local/story.aspx?content_id=0E379FEA-5090-4295-BCFF-2F758E7A8860&gsa=true

Why Ella is Bella

I have been made fun of for nearly my entire life for the type of music I like.  I have always loved oldies and while my brother and sister would ask for the station to be set on contemporary music, I always sided with my parents and asked for oldies.  I love many types of music from the 20's through today, but I love the 40's through 60's.  I think the 70's were for the most part one of the saddest decades for music.  Yes, I know this is hotly debated at family gatherings all over the world and ranks right up there with "Tastes great"/"Less Filling" but I've made my decision.  Once in sixth grade, my oldest sister told me I wasn't normal because I liked oldies.  I don't care, simply, unapologetically, and in all other ways do not care.  I do want to introduce any who may not know the joy of hearing people who can actually sing, to people who do no need hours upon hours of studio time to try and hit the correct note.  Nor do they need sir mix and fix at the board to correct their flaws digitally.  If you do not know her already, I would like to introduce you to Ella Fitzgerald.  She has a beautiful voice and though she performed for huge crowds, you get the feeling she would do this if she wasn't getting paid and you were the only one in the room.  Also, she is the only person I have ever heard scat that I do not want to give an impromtu tracheotomy.  She is just so cool and I hope you like it.  If not though, I don't care.  Check it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_rbh1LqCxk&feature.  Enjoy!

Story Time

I just remembered this snapshot of life from my Los Angeles days.  I thought I would share.  

I was helping one of my friends do an independent film shoot.  We needed a grocery store for one of the locations.  I called around and asked a few stores and they all said we could use the lot, but not shoot the building.  So, we improvised.  The church I attended was a fairly nondescript building, so we shot there.  Only problem was, we needed a shopping cart.  So my plan was, I go to the church, park my car, walk to the store, walk back with the cart and then walk it back after the shoot.   Now when you walk in LA people look at you weird.  I don't exactly know what the deal is, all I can tell you is that people just don't walk around in LA and if you do, you are most likely homeless.  So I'm walking... I'm walking...I'm walking down to the store, and I'm surprised to see a family sitting on their porch.  Again for some reason, this isn't done in LA.  So, I smile, no response really and continue on.  Once I got to the store and picked up the shopping cart I started to feel like a thief.  Here I come walking to the store, don't even go in, take a cart, and leave.  So, I'm walking back and I'm thinking, I hope those people are not on the front porch.  I walk past and sure enough, they are there.  So now I'm thinking how funny it must look to see me walk down and return with an empty cart.  Not a huge deal, but kind of funny.  The shoot happens, it is super hot and finally we wrap it up and it is time to go.  Everyone is gone except me and the cart.  So, now I have to walk it back.  So I start my walk back, walking... walking.... would you believe there is another empty shopping cart! What are the odds, so random.  So, I convince myself that I should take it back to the store.  So, now I am pushing two carts back to the store, pushed together, but still awkward at best to push and steer.  And who do I see, yes, the porch people.  By this time they must be worried.  I continue on my way feeling crazy for pushing two empty carts.  Finally back to the store.  Now by this time, I am hungry, hot, and tired.  I knew that if I didn't eat something soon, I would start to feel sick.  Not a problem since I was in a grocery store.  Praise the Lord I remembered to grab my money.  I saw the most delicious looking chicken tenders there ever were and bought them.  Then I realized my hands were disgustingly dirty from touching who knows what on those carts.  So, I get brilliant.  I would buy a corn dog, eat it and then use the stick to eat my chicken strips.  I don't normally eat corn dogs, but this was an emergency.  So, feeling like a pig I go and stand in line to pay.  My eye wonders to the devils playground and I see a nutrageous bar.  I was missing my friend Jill and I knew that was her favorite candy bar, so I bought it.  I don't know why i do it, I miss people and eat something they like.  It is so bazaar.  So, I start walking back with my plastic grocery bag full of junk.  I'm eating the corn dog, finished that and now I have to use the bag to cover my hand as I spear the chicken with the stick.  Mission accomplished, so now I am eating chicken on a stick walking back from stealing and returning two empty carts.  I finish the chicken and think, yummm nutrageous, so I open it and take a bite.  It had already started to melt a bit, but I wrapped it back up and put it back in the bag.  Only, it was so good, I wanted some more, so I get it out again.  Before I know it, I'm totally just eating the whole thing.  Melting all over as it was, I managed to keep it pretty civil until the last bite.  I got the wrapper all over my mouth.  So, now I'm walking back with chocolate on my face.  I cannot use my hands they are disgusting and I would have eaten a corn dog for nothing if I touch my face now.  So, I think, the plastic bag is pretty clean on the inside.  So, I turn it inside out making sure my trash doesn't spill out and I proceed to remove melted chocolate from my mouth with a crumpled plastic bag while walking the streets of LA.  The whole situation struck me funny and I started to giggle... which turned into louder giggles... which turned into laughter as yes, you guessed it, I walked right past the porch dwellers.  No doubt, by this time they had been convinced that I was a raging psychopath.  I think I even saw one of them wrangle the children and start to move inside.  I felt so dumb, I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could do, the same as I had done all day.  I smiled hello and kept walking, laughing all the way. 

I am a wretched beast of a girl.

Tonight I watched the Republican Convention.  It is a bit different from the Democratic Convention, not worse really just different.  That is not the point.  The point is that I am the devil.  From the beginning of all this brouhaha of primaries and speeches and all, I have made fun of John McCain's mannerisms.  "He looks like one of those tin monkeys banging a drum.  All mechanical and everything." I am a jerk.  You see, I watched the speech given by Fred Thompson tonight.  He did a great job painting the picture of the war hero that served this country, was captured, and then tortured.  I didn't realize that his shoulders were so badly broken that he cannot raise his arms above his shoulders.  I didn't realize he cannot salute the flag of the country he chose to defend.  The country I live in that gives me the right to say whatever I want, even things about those who defended my right.  It is so easy to find an odd thing about someone and exploit it.  To take it to the most ridiculous extreme as if it has any merit whatsoever.  It was for all of us that he is like that today, and I rewarded him with hateful words.  I am a spoiled American brat and I should smack my face for it.    

Jack And The Beam Toss

Yesterday I went to the dentist. I needed two fillings. I know two, but it had been about 15 years since I've needed any and figure the average isn't too bad. One was at the back of wisdom tooth on my left side. I know, I still have my wisdom teeth and planned on keeping them until death, that is until yesterday. I had forgotten what a goofy sensation Novocaine is and how you feel like your tongue is going to close off your air passage. He drills, drills, drills, oh this one is deep. It went from the inside of my mouth all the way to the outside of the tooth. Not proud of that, I do brush, I do floss, not as much as I should, I know, I know. But all three other wisdom teeth are fine. So anyway, I finish at the dentist, get my referral to have the wisdom teeth out and head back to work. First hour is fine, then by the time the Novocaine wears off I can feel all of my teeth are screaming at me. All I remember from previous fillings are you go, get the shot, get the filling, mom buys you a milkshake because it is weird to eat anything for a while, then you go home. I was NOT ready for this kind of pain. I took Excedrin, didn't work. That works on migraines and it didn't work. Oh, I knew I was in for it then. Time passed so slowly. I was so hungry I drank whole milk. I don't drink whole milk, it is kind of gross, but it tasted good yesterday. So, by three in the afternoon, I don't care about anything, I'm not calling people back, it hurts to open my mouth, people tell me I look terrible, thanks by the way. I heat up a mug of water and stick the mug to my face. That's right, sitting in the front office as greeter that afternoon, I'm sportin' the mug o water to my face. Don't be jealous. By closing time my boss says, Jack Daniels will do you good. I'm not a drinker per se. I've had things, but maybe one or two drinks a year. My liver is fine, Mom, don't you worry. So, I'm going to get me some liquor. I can honestly say that yesterday was the first time, and let's hope last, I have ever prayed that the Lord would help me remember where I can find the liquor store. Praise Him, he let me to it! I went in and I didn't see signs for whisky, then I remember that it is bourbon. Then I saw that there was rum. I know I like rum, whisky, not so much. So, I go up to pay, holding the side of my face that hurts I ask if rum will work for my tooth the same as whisky. He says no because it is sugar cane based, learn something new everyday. Plus, he's probably thinking, give up the act lady, I'll sell you the rum. I say, I'll be back and go to get the whisky. Now, I look at Jack Daniels, even the small bottles are 20 bucks. I only got out 20 bucks and I wanted to get a milkshake. Still hungry and milk was my friend yesterday. So, I see Jim Beam. It is cheaper. Then I have a very sad inner dialogue. I think, Jack Daniels is better than Jim Beam, I should get the Jack. I hear black label is good, oh, they both have different color labels, but Jack was in a Dave Letterman joke, Dave Letterman likes Jack... I don't even like it, what the heck to I care if it is Jack or Jim. By now I feel like a jack because I am completely the product of my over sold generation. Only the best for me, me and my sore tooth from decay. What the heck! So, I bought the Jim Beam. And you know what it is gross and I had to force myself to drink it. It did work though and I'm very thankful because yesterday was a very very long day. Perhaps the saddest thing is that I wasn't even carded. The sign on the front door said if you look thirty or younger be prepared to show ID. That cut straight to the heart and no amount of whisky will do jack for that.

With a mother like that, who needs an enemy?

I was sitting here at my desk writing the last blog and the phone rang.  That is weird because while I do have a home phone, no one uses it.  I'm expecting it to be a telemarketer.  I say hello.  They say hello.  They ask how I'm doing.  I ask how they are doing.  Silence.  They ask if something is wrong.  I ask who are you.  They say, you don't know who this is, you dingbat? I say, I'm going to hang up now.  They say, oh, did I dial the wrong number.  I say, yes you did.  They say, oh, I was trying to reach my daughter.  Weird.  I hope that if my mom ever calls me and I don't recognize her she insults me.  I wonder why that little gem of a scenario has never been made into a phone commercial.  Sometimes we can be colossal jacks to the people we should be most loving.  I know I'm not always a gem, but dear heaven's give someone a break.  I bet her daughter is in counseling, not that there is anything wrong with that.    

Lake Wallenpaupack and a Whole Lot of Somethin"

So, I was in Lake Wallenpaupack last week.  Very nice weather, very nice house, and a whole lot of people.  Most of my family was present which was really nice.  My Nana was able to be there.  That is always fun.  Time goes too quickly when you are on vacation and super super fast when you are working.  That is not so fun I must say.  I even had to go through the days and count them because I thought for sure I thought it was the wrong day.  There is no way time went that quickly, but alas it did and now I am home.  I think Heaven will be awesome for the obvious reasons.  But it isn't ever going to end.  I used to wonder if we would ever get bored or if it would ever feel like groundhog day, becoming the same events over and over.  That is my flesh talking obviously because Hello, the saviour of the world will be there and I will be praising him, how could I get bored.  But I just thought how much fun my vacation was and how time seemed to speed up.  Then I thought, how wonderful heaven will be.  I'll never have to say good-bye again, never have to pack up everything, get home, do laundry and then head off to work.  Oh, that is going to be fantastic!

I hate you Morgan Freeman!/ Click on this title to see this video

Have you seen the Visa commercial with Derek Redmond in it? The British runner from the '92 olympics that was injured during the race. If you haven't seen it or have no idea what I am talking about, I will sum up. He starts out the 400 strong, but he gets injured, it looks like a hamstring injury. He kneels, cluthing his leg, he is still, then he stands and he continues the race, hopping around the track. His dad comes along side of him and helps him finish the race. I saw that commercial last night for the first time and it got me, I started to cry. Put me right there with all of those card and telephone commercials. The marketing department did a good job on that one. Although, I must say, I had no desire to go out and charge items on my credit card. I did however have to check it out on Youtube. What the commercial does not show, but is the best part, is that his dad ran onto the field and was originally restrained by olympic crowd control. He pushes them away and runs to him. People continue to come up to them trying to get them to stop. He yells at them and waves them off. The whole time supporting his son, quite literally, and continuing to walk with him. Put that to chariots of fire music and you have an oscar! Perhaps it tugged the heart strings so much because I go to the track and I jog, not fast, but I jog my rear around that track. It is hard work for me and no matter how slow I'm going, I'm going to meet my goal of 3 miles. Derek trained for years. Darn right he's finishing that race! His dad, while not a competitive runner trained with him. He encouraged, supported, cheered, rejoiced, you name it, they went through it together. So to see him enter the track with the intention and resolve to help his son finish, knowing his son had the will to do it injured, is just so beautiful to have seen. To see him run, fight off people who are standing in the way of him getting to his son, and to continue to disregard the people telling them to stop. Wow! I thought of the verses in Hebrews 12:1-3, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." I was so encouraged by this video because so often reading this passage, I envision the Lord standing at the finish line of life, if I may be so philosophical, cheering, encouraging, supporting. But what makes even more sense is that he is right next to us, holding us up, Supporting our legs, giving us the encouragement because he is as involved as we are. He feels the pain, the burn of muscles that are tired. He knows. He knows. And the video shows Derek, determined, eyes forward, his dad comes alongside, and then he knows, he is not alone. Praise the Lord for beautiful human pictures of His love that cannot be remotely understood this side of Heaven.

Let there be light!

So, tonight I was at my brother's house, mowing the lawn for them while they are away.  I didn't get there until about seven, so daylight is burning.  I had to use the push mower around the house and trees and all.  Then I got out the big guns, the riding mower.  To me this is like driving a stick car.  It was fun, but got to be annoying after a while.  My sister-in-law will be ticked because her perfect mow lines are in shambles right about now.  Part of that is due to the fact that I was mowing in twilight.  Yes, I was straining my eyes looking for the higher grass.  Where did I leave off, what the heck is going on?  Of course the mower runs out of gas and I had to take the time out to fill it which only made me think it wouldn't get done.  Little did I know, there are lights on their riding mower.  The neighbors are watching this yahoo, me, cutting grass in the dark when all I had to do was turn on the lights.  It was so much easier once I could see where I was going.  It made me think, "Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path".  I was glad for the light tonight in more ways than one.  

What is going on?

I was talking with a friend last night on IM and we got on the subject of politics. Interesting since we are on opposite sides of the two party system in this country. Disclaimer: I know we don't "technically" have a two party system, I'm speaking of the functionality of the situation, not the theory. So, we got onto the subject and we both felt that we were without parties. I think a lot of people feel that way. We have similar ideologies to our elected officials, but when it comes to the practicality of the issues, we are left thinking, "What happened to my party?". I don't have the answer to that question. I think we have a big mess that needs to be cleaned up. I think we have a lot of Americans who have become lazy and don't care. I think we have a lot of politicians who have taken advantage of the apathy and gone hog wild with their own agendas. Where is the country that is for the people? What happened to the notion that public office was to be a phase of one's life, passing in and out for a time. What is the sense in enforcing term limits when the same people are still in the same tired seat, pushing the same tired issues? Perhaps when people have a comfortable seat and an extra one with certain lobbyist's names on them, there is no need to feel accountable to the people. I don't think all lobbyists are the devil or that every politician needs to be put out to pasture, but some of them have permanent rear marks in their chairs. And to play devil's advocate, perhaps these people are voted in term after term because anything close to being accomplished has been two or six years in the making. Checks and balances are fantastic, but when we have masters of procrastination and red tape bureaucracy abounding in our capital buildings, well, I get sad and annoyed. So, in echoing that singer from that song that was played way too much in the nineties, forget where have all the cowboys gone. Where have all of the Mr. Smiths gone? If there truly was a Mr. Smith, he never would have gotten to Washington, no one would have helped him, and he certainly wouldn't have been as cute as Jimmy Stewart.

Do not comment on the cute thing, not a criteria for my vote.

New Fandangled Technology

WEll, I call it new, but it truly isn't. New to me perhaps. So, here you are reading this blog. Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoy, and if not, thanks anyway