In Memoriam

Our beautiful, 13-1/2 year old black lab died today. I worked at church this morning and had some errands to run, and while I was on the highway en route to one of those errands, my cell phone rang.

It was my daughter. The kids were home from school today for a advocacy meetings, and I could tell right off that something wasn't quite right. Eileen was crying and I had a very hard time understanding her. The only word I could understand was "Star." I suspected what proved to be true.

Star's health has been failing for some time now. when she was 8 we had a large mass removed that the vet told us was a very severe cancer. Since then there have been other lumps that we haven't bothered having biopsied. We knew what they were.

When Star was ten, we could see her beginning to fail. Her arthritis was getting worse, but she still seemed to enjoy life. We knew she might not be around much longer so we got another dog to prefill the anticipated loss. We were also hopeful that she might help in the training of the youngster, which she did. Funny thing was, this new puppy took about three years off of Star's age, and she found a new lease on life and what appeared to be new joy.

Over the last few months, we have come out to the back porch in the morning to find "accidents." I had begun to suspect the end was coming.

This morning, it was much worse. I think I knew then that it wouldn't be long. When I told my husband what had happened , he said it really didn't surprise him after this morning.

I have been thinking for some time that we might soon have to make a decision. But Star was still happy. She still ate well, and just yesterday, as we took the three-year-old through his routine of tricks, Star had to show our son that she still had a few tricks left, too. She rolled over several times for him, just to show off.

Star has been my daughter's dog since she was two and a half. We never worried when Eileen would climb trees because Star mothered her so well that if Eileen would have fallen, she would have landed on her whimpering, worried dog. As she got older, many times we observed Star removing burrs from my or my daughters sweatpant legs with her teeth - grooming us as we often did her. Eileen will be sixteen next week, and it's so sad for her to have lost such a good friend, especially so close to her birthday.

Our former neighbor died two weeks ago. He and his wife always spoiled Star rotten while we were at work. I like to think that Guy will take care of our Star puppy now that she is in heaven.

I finally was able to cry a little this evening when the children weren't looking. They had enough grief of their own without seeing mine.

We took her body to the vet to have her cremated. We should get the ashes back in a couple of weeks, and then we will have a memorial service. It was a good thing that the kids and I were home today. It was a very hot day, and the required tasks could have been much more unpleasant than they already were if she had laid there in the yard all day.

The younger dog still hasn't seemed to figure it out. It will sink in soon.

Please pray for my family as we grieve and heal from our loss.

Kim

The ballad of the vineyard – based on Isaiah 5:1-7

To the tune of Barbara Allen (or anything 8.7.8.7.)

Come listen, love, unto my song

A song about a vineyard.

A vineyard on a fertile hill

A finely cared for vineyard.

My love he dug and cleared the stones.

He planted only good vines.

A tower to watch over it,

A vat and press to make wine.

He thought it would yield choicest grapes

But all he got were rotten.

So judge ye well, all people here,

Why is this all he’s gotten?

***

“So I will tear down all the hedge.

The vines shall be devoured!

I’ll break the wall and tramp it down,

For giving grapes so sour.

I’ll make it waste, not prune nor hoe.

With thorns it will be covered!

Through briers thick, no rain will fall,

On this vineyard.” said my lover.

***

The vineyard is this very place.

The people are God’s planting.

God hoped for righteousness and peace,

Found bloodshed, hate, and ranting.

***

This is my song, I’ve sung it well.

And now it comes to you friends.

Seek justice, peace, and righteousness

In all the plantings you tend.

Praying for you

Yesterday, as I was leaving my engineering job at midday to go to an eye doctor appointment, my low fuel light came on.

I knew it was an ozone alert day, but I also knew that I had a lot more driving to do before dark, and I wouldn't make it.

I also recognize that gas prices are on average a nickel a gallon less in Missouri than in Kansas, so I determined to stop for gas before crossing the state line.

As I swiped my credit card, I saw this little fellow peering out at me.

I have always been fascinated by praying (or is it preying) mantis (What is the plural? - Mantises?). I remember in elementary school how we would have one in a terrarium in the classroom and we would catch grasshoppers at recess to feed them.

This one just looked so friendly, and he was really pretty big - I'd guess about four inches long (that's 10 cm for you metric folks).

This was in a highly industrialized area, with nary a speck of greenspace to be found and a 100+ day to boot! Another indication that God touches us with creation everywhere.

And in that weird state that I was in, (not Missouri, although I was), I started thinking about prayer and how I say that I will pray for someone, and then, for whatever reason, I don't specifically name that person later in my prayers. Sometimes, I forget. Or I remember I said I would pray for someone, but I forget who and why. It makes me wonder if my intent is enough.

I don't really think so. And sometimes, I'll think a prayer quickly and hope I remember it later.

It was interesting I saw this creature when I did, because the prayer chain at my smaller church had just been activated on behalf of the membership secretary's granddaughter who is five months pregnant and had just been rushed to the ER with a 102 degree fever and what was believed to be a ruptured appendix. They were fearful that she would lose the baby. I took the "pray quickly while driving" option on this one.

I talked to the grandmother late last night. The appendix had not ruptured and was removed. A drain was inserted, premature labor had been stopped, but it is touch and go for the next 48 - 72 hours. I wonder if Heather will be on bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy?

So how do you keep track? When you say you will pray for someone, how do you remember to? Do you carry a list? Are you surreptitious about adding names or do you just yank out the list and write it down then and there in front of them? OR do you just avoid saying "I'll pray for you" because you know you won't? Comments welcome.

RevGal Friday Five Stress Busting edition

Sally writes: I am off to spend a few days at the beach chilling out after a hectic few weeks and before I head off for Summer School...

So with that in mind this weeks questions are looking at how you deal with the stress monster!!!???

1. First, and before we start busting stress, what causes you the most stress, is it big things or the small stuff ? Hard to say...usually the small stuff. It tends to pile up without me noticing until I get so overwhelmed with it that I'm immobilized. That's when I find myself yelling at the kids, and then I feel bad about it. I feel really good when I can get all those little things taken care of when they need to be.

2. Exercise or chocolate for stress busting ( or maybe something else) ? Should be exercise, tends to be chocolate, but if the stress is huge, I can't eat. I was just talking to somebody about that this morning. At one point in my life I wondered if anorexia could be physiological in addition to psychological. I was very thin. I liked to eat, but still was always very thin as a younger person. If I didn't eat right when I was hungry, the feeling would pass, and I wouldn't be able to eat when I did get food. Looking back, the time when I experienced that the greatest was during a period of intense stress with a MIL who, suffice it to say, had issues.

3.What is your favourite music to chill out to? Anything on the Windham Hill or Narada labels. Do they still call that New Age music? Please don't tell my fundy friends. I also really enjoy singer/songwriter folk and Celtic.

4. Where do you go to chill? When I need to chill, I prefer to be alone. I try to go to the front porch - one or both of my children tend to follow me there. So I go to pet the dogs. Again, I'm followed. If it really gets bad, I go to the grocery store. They usually don't want to go there with me.

5. Extrovert or introvert, do you relax at a party, or do you prefer a solitary walk? Definitely an extrovert, but people energize me. To relax, the solitary walk is much preferable.

Bonus- share your favourite stress busting tip! Lying in my hammock, staring at the sky, or as I sometimes refer to it - contemplating the color blue. If I happen to fall asleep, all the better. A good nap never hurt anything.

Fair Follow-up

The Wyandotte County Fair ended on Saturday. I picked up my knitting and that big prize check!

I received 6 blue first place ribbons and two red second place ribbons. Two of the blues also qualified as Grand Champion and Reserve Grand Champion.

And they got it right! The Grand Champion was the best thing I entered - a circular lace shawl. The Reserve was also a deserving piece of knitting - a wall hanging of my own design depicting images from the first two chapters of Ecclesiastes. Some of my classmates have seen this one.

The wall hanging has another blog-worthy story attached to it, but I'll have to write it up when I have a little more time.

So I can now say that I am an award-winning fiber artist since someone commented on the shawl when I wore it a few weeks back and referred to me as a fiber artist. Also, the wall hanging was truly a piece of art.

Oh, and the big check? $7.25!!!! I'll try not to spend it all in one place!

Misty morning

As I was writing my blog post this morning, I found these pictures on my camera. They were taken in the cemetery adjacent to one of my churches this past spring in a heavy fog.

The cemetery is quite old and somewhat historic for the area. The church is named for Moses Grinter, who is believed to be one of the first permanent white residents of Wyandotte County, KS, and he donated the land. He and his wife, brother, and sister-in-law are buried in the cemetery. Theirs are the large tombstones under the tree in the picture on the right.

Moses Grinter's sister-in-law, Rosanna Grinter (She was both the sister of his wife and the wife of his brother) is mentioned in the abstract of our house. Apparently the original owners of our home borrowed money from her and she held a mortgage on the house/property. I find this particularly interesting because she was not only a woman, but also a Delaware Indian. I would think such business dealings would have been unusual in the late 1800's!

Fair Knitting

The Wyandotte County Fair starts tonight. We'll probably go tomorrow night. I entered eight items in the open class. Looks like I'm only competing with myself. When dropped off my entries yesterday, I saw a lot of crochet, but only my knitting. The judging was to occur at 9 AM yesterday.

The above picture includes, starting with the red item and proceeding clockwise: A mobius shawl in red wool, an entrelac bag I carry a large water bottle in, a grey/green felted purse, and orange triangular lace shawl, a white circular lace scarf, an ivory mohair circular lace shawl (I'm really proud of this one!), and a soysilk summer shell.

The picture on the right is a wall hanging I made for my Qohelet class project last semester. I depicted images from Ecclesiastes 1:1-2:11 in knitting. I included a copy of the scripture with the pertinent verses highlighted.

The judging of the knitted items at the fair is always a little funny. I think all the judges are crocheters and don't understand knitting. They are always so impressed with entrelac - and it is really pretty simple. Cable work doesn't seem to interest them, and this is my first time offering lace and mixed color and texture. Both the lace and the wall hanging are much more complex projects, but they may not recognize that. The mobius is seamless and intentionally twisted, and some don't understand that either.

I'll update when I find out how I did!

Back again

I've been away a while. The trip to Rolla and St. Louis were good, but expensive.

The tires on my car have been giving me a bit of trouble, so when I went on this trip, I took an air tank with me in case they got low.

After dropping off my son at his camp program, I spent some time driving around Rolla, checking out my college haunts and discovering the changes since I last attended school there 19 years ago.

I checked in on the campus ministry where my husband and I met. I was disturbed that the Missouri Conference has just determined that it is no longer going to fund campus ministry. Apparently, the payback just isn't there. Personally, I think they are measuring the wrong things. I know many people who came to ministry through campus ministry, and I wouldn't be United Methodist if it hadn't been for my friendships in that particular campus ministry. Makes me glad to be in Kansas where we just voted for a capital campaign to pour $9 million into campus ministry.

The Wesley house that I knew is now a parking lot. I went to the house that I was aware they had moved to. There was a sign on the door: MOVED TO THE METHODIST CHURCH (and the address - I knew where it was.) I went there to try to get answers. The lovely woman in the office introduced herself - she looked vaguely familiar, but I've been away a long time - and explained the situation to me. She said Wesley still had their own space, but it is in the parish hall/rec. center that has been built across the street from the church. As we talked, I realized that she may be the wife of one of the professors I knew from the Wesley Board when I was a student. So I asked, "Are you Jack's wife?" She said yes. I explained that I went to Panama on the mission trip with her husband in 1983. That is why she looked familiar to me. Then our conversation was more like that of old friends. I finished my visit, and returned to my wanderings.

I ate lunch in the greasy pizza joint where we used to hang out. IT HAD NOT CHANGED.

I then proceeded with the next leg of my journey...on to St. Louis. The plan was to maybe try to catch a matinee of License to Wed before meeting with my niece and her fiance that evening to work on wedding stuff. About halfway to St. Louis, there was an incredible downpour. At the same time, traffic lanes were reduced for construction. About the time it became to let up and open up, a car came flying up next to me to point out that my tire was flat.

I pulled over to the side, got out my air tank and began to refill the tire. It was still dripping rain a little, so I just needed enough to get to the next exit which I knew had a service station. One car started to pull off to help me, but when I saw him/her signal, I waved him/her on to let them know I had things under control.

When I pulled off at the next exit, the station even had FREE air! I refilled the air tank and knelt to finish filling my tire. Then I saw the screw in the tread. Okay, I was going to need to get that fixed. I knew the next exit had some real car repair places, maybe even a real service station, so I went off in search of a tire repair.

The first place I stopped looked reputable...solid business, been there a long time. The mechanic told me he could fix it, but it would be a couple of hours before he could get to it. I asked if there were any other places he could recommend, and he told me there was a tire place up behind Pizza Hut. I went there. The screw was too close to the sidewall to make a good repair, and my back tires were down to the wear bars anyway. I still had 35% remaining on the front tires. The store did not have a tire that would match my existing tires. Because my car is all-time AWD, I needed matched tires. I bought four tires, but only paid for three because the front ones could be reused. I was due. Actually it was good that it happened at a time when I actually had time to deal with it. I sat in the waiting room and read. That was part of my plan for my days away anyway.

On to St. Louis....

I got to my niece's neighborhood a little early, so I drove around the park where she planned to have her ceremony. Catholic Supply was just around the corner, so I stopped in to look around. I'd seen their website when I was looking for clergy shirts, and had made a mental note at that time to look for them if I had time while in St. Louis. How convenient that it was so close. I bought a black clergy shirt and two collars.

I had a nice visit with Lindsey and Dave and then went on to visit my mom and dad for two nights. I shopped with my mom and aunt, read a lot, and didn't do a bit of knitting - strange for me. I did go see License to Wed, but not before meeting with Lindsey and Dave, so they were spared. It was a cute movie - had a few good lines, but I'm glad I only paid matinee prices. Rent the DVD.

When I picked up son at Rolla, he had lost his dorm keys. I was charged an additional $120 for the replacement of the keys. I was livid! They said they had to core and rekey three locks and that was to cover the cost of that. I know for a fact that the University has people on staff that can accomplish that in a matter of about half and hour for all three! I've had locks cored and rekeyed. They probably even have a stock bin full of locks that they just have to change out!

You know, the $400 for the tires didn't bother me. I needed new tires, and as my dad said, good tires are cheap insurance. But that $120 for keys was like nails on a chalkboard to me. This is the university where my 10-year-old son has already decided he wants to go to college. This is the university that calls me and my husband at least twice a year asking for money. This is the university that has changed so many things on campus that it doesn't even feel like our Alma mater anymore. This is the university that is changing its name in January, and it WON'T be where we went. Maybe that's the real source of my anger - no acknowledgement of the past as they barrel ahead into the future. I think the grief I felt in all of the losses I experienced as I saw the town and the campus and the Wesley foundation chose to exhibit itself in anger as I wrote the check for the keys.

Yes, it was an expensive trip.

Preaching the Gospel - Epilogue

Well, I performed the funeral today. Everyone behaved themselves. Daughter R., Daughter D., and Son R. each emailed something for me to read, and I did. I preached a gospel message, but I didn't have an altar call, and even the grandson who caused the commotion at the grandmother's funeral came up to me after the service and said, "Nice service, Pastor. Just keep preaching the Gospel and you can't miss."

Thank you for your support.

Dinner was provided by the church ladies, and it was good, and then I had to run off to a meeting with my new DS.

It all went well. I told him about the funeral. He said I handled it well.

I asked him about my performing my niece's wedding in October. I'm a licensed local pastor, and she is in another state - I wondered if I needed permission from a DS or Bishop there. He reasoned the same way that I had that since marriage is not a sacrament in the UMC, and I was authorized here, I am authorized anywhere. That was good to hear since I'm meeting with the couple tomorrow.

Finally, I spoke with him about my churches and my desire to stay with them after graduation 3/4-time to keep them from having to pay for insurance which I have through my husband. I'm currently half-time. He seemed to think we could make it work.

We visited about some other things, he offered a prayer, and I left. I think he is going to be good DS. He seems supportive and open, and acts like he wants to be available and helpful to his pastors. Today was a good day.

After my visit with the DS, I went back to the office, checked in with the chair of Staff-parish to fill her in on the meeting, and went to visit one of my shut-ins that I hadn't seen in a while. There were flowers left from the funeral, and recognizing that they wouldn't last until Sunday, I took them to F. for her enjoyment.

As I signed the visitor book at the nursing home, I noticed the name above mine was that of the son of our former neighbor. He was there visiting his father (who I didn't know was in the nursing home.) After visiting F. and taking her the flowers, I decided to stop by and see G.

His wife and son were both there, and G and his wife recognized me when I came in. We visited for a bit, and G. told me to tell Steve and the kids "hi" for him. L. (the wife) walked me out of the room and told me that G. has an inoperable brain tumor that is very fast-growing. All this only came up in the last two-three weeks, and she is beside herself. G. is 80 years old, and until this happened two weeks ago, he was still mowing the lawn every other day. I gave her my card and told her to please call me. She was so glad I had come by. I was glad I did too. When we moved away from them 7 years ago, we knew that we would miss having them as neighbors. Since that time I wondered if we would know if something happened to one of them. I have long feared that we might not know if one of them died unless we just happened to read the obituaries on that day. It sounds strange, but I'm glad to know what's going on with them. Not glad for the news, mind you, but it's truly a GOD thing that I just happened to see the name in the visitor book and reconnect.

I'm off tomorrow to take son to aerospace camp at the University where Steve and I both got our engineering degrees. From there, I head on to St. Louis to meet with my niece and her fiance, and to spend some time with my parents. I pick up son on Thursday about noon. I'm looking forward to a couple of days off. I may see a movie, do some reading and some knitting.
Some time I have to get Sunday's services planned, but I'm not going to panic about them. I had planned to do that today, but then the funeral kinda sucked up the day.

I think it's gonna be a good week.

Later.....

Establishing My Turf - Preaching the Gospel

Let me begin by saying that I am NOT a territorial person. I try to exude hospitality and welcoming to any and all of every persuasion. I tend to be an encourager of those who lack confidence or self-esteem, and try to help those at different places in their spiritual development find their voice. I think those who know me personally will chime in here and affirm that. (Hipchick?, Mandy? Nick?)

Now a situation has arisen in my parish that has forced me into a territorial position.

One of my parishioners died this morning. It was not unexpected. He has been in a nursing home for 2-1/2 years, and for at least the last six months, he has been so heavily sedated when I went in to visit him that I really expected him to go at any time. I really felt that during my last visit on July 2 and even said as much to my husband and some others in the parish. He was 96 (97?) years old.

I got a call from his daughter R. about 9:30 this morning informing me of the death, and to check my schedule. Mind you, only the deceased and his wife who preceded him in death were members of my church. I have only met one of his sons (W.) in person once at the nursing home, and have spoken to daughter R. by telephone on one occasion prior to today. When she called this morning, she mentioned that there had been a problem with her nephew G., (son of daughter D. and grandson of the deceased) at her mother's funeral, and she hoped that it wouldn't happen again. She felt that her sister D would not go there again, as it was somewhat embarrassing to the whole family. She did not elaborate on the nature of the problem, but I did seem to recall the pastor before me mentioning something. I let it go, and agreed to talk with her later about funeral details after she had a chance to visit with the funeral home about arrangements.

This afternoon, as I was returning from lunch, my cell phone rang. It was brother R. He wanted to make sure that I understood the situation, and wanted to brainstorm ways to prevent its recurrence. It seems that nephew G. is a newly called fundamentalist Baptist minister. At his grandmother's funeral two years ago he got up to speak (I don't know if it he was scheduled by the pastor as a speaker or if he responded to a request that if anyone wished to say something they could) and proceeded to preach a hellfire and damnation sermon proclaiming all in attendance to be hell-bound sinners including the deceased. He then proceeded to have an altar call. Needless to say, the presiding pastor and several members of the family were livid, and found it totally inappropriate. Brother R. told me that he was probably the only one who would speak up about it, but he wanted to make sure that it wouldn't happen again.

On the spot, I made an executive decision. I hope it's the right one. I told him that I was all for keeping things as simple as possible, and I would be the only one to speak at the funeral. If others, like family members wished to share something, I would be happy to read it on the family's behalf, but I would be the only one speaking. He liked that solution. I suggested that people email me their remembrances so that I would have a chance to look them over before the funeral. I also told him that I would close the loop with sister R, and that if they needed anything else, please call.

I picked up my phone to call sister R., and before I could dial, the phone rang. It was sister D. the mother of G. She told me that her son would like to speak at the funeral, and she recognized that as the presiding pastor, that needed to be cleared with me. He wished to bring a gospel message as he had done at her mother's funeral.

I explained to her that I understood that there had been some conflict and tension related to that at her mother's funeral, and I had been requested by other family members to assure that would not happen again. I explained to her that I would be bringing a gospel message, and also a celebration of her father's life. I also told her that I would be the only one speaking, but if others had something they wished to share, I would be happy to read their statements. I told her that her parents were members of this United Methodist Church, and that we must all be respectful of their church family and their beliefs. I reiterated that I would read statements of remembrance. She told me that she didn't think that her son would want me to read his message. I told her that was his decision. She said that she respected my decision and understood my position, and hung up.

I immediately called sister R. and filled her in on all the details of the discussion with brother R and sister D. She thanked me for handling it.

I also called the chair of staff-parish to make sure she knew I had exerted this authority. Call it a CYA call.

Meanwhile, I'm still shaking. I feel this is the right way to approach this, but it feels so darn territorial. I feel it is necessary to be honest and up front about the problem, but at the same time not to let it overwhelm the remembrance of the deceased. I'm struggling a little with taking such a strong stance, but at the same time, I somewhat resent the implication that I will not be bringing a gospel message. I will, but the gospel that I will bring is a message of God's prevailing grace available to all, of God's love for all of humanity, of the resurrection of Christ for the salvation of all. The deceased once said to me, "That's my church. I was baptized in that church. I did a lot of bad things in my life, but Jesus saved me. All that's gone away now, because Jesus saved me."

That's the Gospel I'm gonna preach.

Rev Gal Blog Pals Friday Five - Muggle version

So today's F5 is a Choose Your Own Adventure: do the magical version or the Muggle one, or both:

1. Former U.S. First Lady "Lady Bird" Johnson died this week. In honor of her love of the land and the environment, share your favorite flower or wildflower.

Has to be the plain white daisy. We used to stop the car and pick big bouquets along the side of the road. They don't grow like that around where I live now. We have sunflowers here. I tried picking those once, and ended up with yellow pollen covering everything in my car and office, including my clothing.

For domesticated flowers, I love lilacs - on the bush or cut and in a vase. I love the smell.

2. A man flew almost 200 miles in a lawn chair, held aloft by helium balloons. Share something zany you'd like to try someday.
I tend to be fairly risk averse. Extreme for me is the fact that at 45 years old I ride a scooter. I've wrecked twice, but with gas at >$3/gallon I really appreciate the 80+ mpg. Anyway, I would love to do a camping road trip on my scooter. A scooter acquaintance of mine, twenty-something female, bought a scooter and rode solo from KC to Utah and back while she still had temporary tags. My husband once did a long motorcycle trip, camping on the way. I planned a bicycle trip when I was in high school, but never did it. I've never done anything so irrational and adventurous - unless you count attending seminary.

3. Do you have an iPhone? If not, would you want one?
I don't need an iPhone. I have a variety of SmartPhone that pretty much does everything that I think the iPhone is supposed to do. It's a PDA, a camera, and an MP3 player. I can surf the web and I can even make phone calls! My only real gripe is that the touch pad for dialing numbers is more difficult than real push buttons might be. It doesn't have GPS, but I don't see the need, either.

4. Speaking of which, Blendtec Blenders put an iPhone in one of their super-duper blenders as part of their "Will It Blend?" series. What would YOU like to see ground up, whizzed up or otherwise pulverized in a blender?
An aircraft black box. They are supposed to be indestructible. I read (or listened to the audiobook) a story once about a man who ate a plane. He was doing fine until he got to the black box and wasn't sure how to proceed. The book is called The Man Who Ate the 747 by Ben Sherwood.

5. According to News of the Weird, a jury in Weld County, Colo., declined to hold Kathleen Ensz accountable for leaving a flier containing her dog's droppings on the doorstep of U.S. Rep. Marilyn Musgrave, apparently agreeing with Ensz that she was merely exercising free speech. What do you think? Is doggy doo-doo protected by the First Amendment?
Seems it would depend on the leash and curbing laws of the area. Most places you can't leave dog feces in public places or on private property other than your own. And a flier, too. Definitely littering. It seems that one could find more culturally appropriate ways to exercise free speech, like by having the flier and dog doo delivered to the person. Much classier.

Another Saturday in Paradise

Steve is about to take the kids swimming. I have a sermon to write. Soon the house will be quiet and I will be able to think. I usually end up writing my sermons during the wee hours of the morning because it is the only time to do so without distractions. Of course, there is always the web, though, if I do need a distraction or procrastination excuse.

We should have been going to piano lessons, but the kids' teacher called last night to cancel. Aaron has a friend over anyway - he's a very nice young man. two and a half years older than Aaron, but they get along so well, he's extremely polite, and therefore, definitely someone that I want my kid to be around.

I finished knitting a shawl this morning and started another one. I also started a purse that I got the pattern for yesterday. I ordered some yarn last week that is supposed to be here Tuesday. My plan for it is a dress. I figure that if I start now, I may actually have a dress to wear for commencement next May.

I have a lot of reading that I want to do. I also have paper that I need to write - or at least rework an old one - before Friday.

I went to the farmer's market this morning and got corn and cabbage and snap peas and peppers. I'm growing peppers on the front porch, and a couple are almost big enough to pick, but I'm hoping to leave them on until they start to turn red, yellow or orange. I think I planted some of each. I think I have some pork steaks in the freezer. We can throw those on the grill with the corn and call it supper tonight. We may go to a fireworks display tonight, but it doesn't start until fairly late, so we'll just have to see. (When I was a kid, and my mother said, "We'll see." that always meant, "No.")

Well, I better get writing. I probably won't get much sleep tonight anyway.

Kim

On Writing

Nope, not the Stephen King book. (Although it is pretty good. I listened to the audiobook back in 2001, shortly after 9/11. I know when it was because I remember that I flew to a conference in Atlanta only one week after the planes were flying again, and I distinctly remember walking about Atlanta listening to that book.)

No, I've been thinking about writing because I need to be writing. I started this blog, thinking that it would encourage me to write. As the sparsity of the posts witnesses to, that hasn't exactly worked.

I've often bought lovely journals thinking that would encourage me. It just never works. I have many lovely journals with three to five pages used and then, nothing.

Of course, I write a sermon every week. That's something, but they are intended for speaking, not reading. It's just not the same (but I must admit, I'm better at talking through thoughts than sorting them on paper).

I've even talked to one of my mentors about journaling. I recognize there is that hand/mind right-brain connection when one writes longhand that just doesn't seem to exist when typing - a very left-brain activity. But then, to capture it for posterity or at least to use pieces later, it needs to be typed. What to do, what to do? Write and retype? Seems too redundant and subject to editing.

One of my parishioners has kept a journal for 50 years. She says she has never lost an argument because everything is in her journals. She can look up the exact date things occurred because she writes everything down. Even phone numbers and addresses end up in her journals.

Yesterday, I got another idea. When I was a teenager, I used to write long, detailed letters to select friends and relatives cataloguing every little thing going on. Usually these were just a method to combat boredom during the summer months, some of it was pure drivel used only to fill space, but as I think back on them, they did a nice job chronicling my life at the time.

SOOOOOO.... my next experiment is to start writing letters - never to be sent - but to keep a record of my thoughts, feelings, activities. If anything is worth keeping, maybe I'll retype it into the blog, or at least a file.

Now, if I can just find some good paper and a new pen.........

"The Cutest Thing Ever"

When I arrived at my son's best friend's house to pick him up earlier this evening, his friend's dad was standing in the driveway and he said to me, "Want to see the cutest thing ever?" As I got out of the car I noticed that he was looking up at the tree next to the driveway. I followed his gaze and this is what I saw:


He said there were four, but the next door neighbor had caught one of them. I said, "They do know that is very illegal and generally a bad idea, don't they?" He said, Yes, but they don't usually listen."

As we stood there watching them, they climbed down the tree and began looking for dogfood in the rocks below.


These pictures aren't great, they're taken with my phone, but I had to have pictures.

They were only about two feet away. I could have reached out and petted one.

Thanks, Bob, for inviting me to see them.

One of those silly blog things

Those of you who know me...This looked pretty accurate. What do you think?

You Have A Type A- Personality

You are one of the most balanced people around Motivated and focused, you are good at getting what you want You rule at success, but success doesn't rule you. When it's playtime, you really know how to kick back Whether it's hanging out with friends or doing something you love! You live life to the fullest - encorporating the best of both worlds

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

Eight Random Facts about Me

Hipchickmamma tagged me so I have to come up with eight random facts. Hmmm…this is difficult, I’m really pretty boring.

1. I play the hammered dulcimer – used to teach, too. I even made a recording back in 1995. Cassettes (what are those?) are still available. One of my first students eventually went on to take first place in the Southern Regional Hammered Dulcimer competition. She came in second at Nationals. She actually has a professionally produced CD - maybe more since I last saw her.

2. I’m very Archie Bunker about my favorite chair at home.

3. I’m addicted to NPR.

4. Everybody knows I knit – a lot. I think more people at seminary know me as “the woman who knits” than by my name.

5. I used to work for a blind nun. It was NOT a spiritual experience.

6. I quit Girl Scouts in eighth grade because one of the leaders said something about my dad that she knew nothing about (and it had to do with religion!)

7. I used to work at a place called American Bottoms in a city best-known for its strip clubs. American Bottoms is a wastewater treatment plant, not a strip club. I once got into a little trouble for giving directions to the plant using the strip clubs and all-night bar as landmarks. What did I know? They were well-known landmarks.

8. I’ve written a couple of songs, but the muse only seems to visit during times of great stress or really bad bosses, and I just haven’t gotten there in recent years.

Now I’m supposed to tag eight other bloggers. I don’t know if I know eight other bloggers that hipchick hasn’t already tagged. I tag Jeff, Mark, Tim, Vivette, Kathy, Suzy and…I’ll get back to you. It's not like any of these will play, though because most are as bad as me about keeping up posting, and the rest don't read my blog.

So there!

Speaking Spanish (parte dos)

My beautiful fifteen-year-old daughter is in Costa Rica right now, attending language school and living with a family there.

She left two weeks ago. She returns this Saturday. I miss her.

Fortunately, she has email and writes from time to time. I know she is okay. Did I mention that I miss her?

She was fighting a rash last week and wasn't feeling challenged in her studies, so she got some hydrocortisone and asked to be moved up to a higher level class. Both seem to be working.

She went hiking in the rainforest with "her family" on Sunday. She says the mountains are incredible. She's going to another rainforest later this week. She thinks she will beat her postcards home. Unless, of course, she sees more mountains and decides that she needs to stay.

I say, "Another time, Eileen. Come home. You're already signed up for driver's ed."

I think I miss her.

Speaking Spanish

I studied Spanish from 7th – 12th grade. In college, I took all of my humanities electives as Hispanic literature courses (taught in Spanish). During my first grad school stint, I hung out with the International Student Association and shared an apartment with a woman from Honduras. I’ve also studied a little bit of French, but am better at reading it than hearing or speaking.

With all this, you’d think I’d be comfortable speaking Spanish. Yet, I have so few opportunities to practice that I get intimidated easily. I recognize that it is the intimidation factor as I become fairly fluent after a couple of beers. I learned this hanging out with the International Student Association and going to their parties. The lowered inhibitions allow me to speak without worrying if I’ve used the right tenses when I speak.

One of my professors who is preparing for an immersion trip to Guatemala, together with a woman from the dean’s office who is originally from Mexico, have begun reserving a room at the seminary on Wednesdays for lunchtime conversation in Spanish. I thought this might be a great opportunity for me to practice in a less threatening venue than the real world, so I went to check it out.

When I entered the room, K. from the dean’s office was there, as were S. – one of my professors this semester, M. another of my professors this semester, and V. – a classmate.

K. spoke Spanish (Of course! She is from Mexico.); S. knew some Italian, having lived 5 years in Rome, but no Spanish; M. was dragged in by S., but had studied Spanish for 3 years in Jr. & Sr. High; and I never quite got V.’s story.

J. – another of my professors this semester and the woman who set it up came in a little late, dragging along KD who we discovered was born in Puerto Rico. I have known him for some time, but was unaware of this tidbit. He always calls me “Cuz” when he sees me, (another story for another time), so when he came in I said, “Eh, Primo.” (Primo is Spanish for cousin.)

As we tried to speak, I could understand nearly everything that K. said in Spanish. I understood most of what KD said as well, although his accent was strange to my ears. S. spoke Italian, and I often understood him (because of similarities to French & Spanish and past attempts to read Italian), and sometimes repeated what he said in Italian back to him in Spanish. M. kept saying in English that he would never again follow S. into a room at lunch, and J. thought carefully about each word before she would say it, and therefore really struggled. She tried, but it was apparent she was working hard. V. did okay speaking, but had more trouble understanding, and she had to leave early to go to another meeting.

K. commented to J. that I speak Spanish very well. I told K. (in Spanish) that I become more fluent after a couple of beers. She responded, “No. Tequila es mejor.” (Tequila is better.) J. caught that and responded, “Not at school!” I responded, “Al otro lado de la calle.” (Across the street!)

K. told (still in Spanish, then in English) how last May her mother had called the office to wish her a happy birthday. She was not in at the time, and the secretary spoke no Spanish, and her mother spoke no English. About that time, J. walked into the office, and tried to speak with her mother, but they couldn’t communicate. Next, S. walked in, and in a mixture of English, Spanish, and Italian, was finally able to let K’s mother know that she wasn’t there.

By this time, we were all laughing really hard at the story, the conversations, the struggling, and M.’s reluctance to ever follow S. to do anything again. It was a lot of fun.

I don’t know about the others, but it was a great confidence builder for me. It was equalizing. Here I was in a room with three of my four professors this semester, and I was more comfortable with the subject matter than they. Our roles were reversed; I was instructing and they were learning.

And I continue to learn about self-image and the walls we build around ourselves. I don’t see myself as a person with a lot of walls, yet just last week I declined informing some folks looking for speakers of languages other than English that I knew Spanish. I know there are better speakers than I on campus, and I lack the confidence to place myself in the role of a translator. Maybe I need to reconsider. Perhaps I need to see it as an opportunity to hone my skills further. Maybe I need to take a little journey outside of my comfort zone.

Hasta luego,
Kim

Lunch with an old friend...

A few months back, I received a phone call from a friend from college. It's silly, really, his family lives here in town; I hung out with him and his wife in college - even sang at their wedding - yet I hadn't talked to them in YEARS! They even have kids the same ages as our kids! When we were planning our barnraising, I had an old email address, so I invited them. Surprisingly, the email address was still good, and Rob called me up to decline the invitation. But in the process we discovered that we work next-door to each other. Today, we met at the deli across the street.

Rob is a full colonel in the Army Reserve. He has spent a number of tours in Bosnia, and was in Iraq for a year. When we saw him last, he had just bought an airplane kit. Turns out that he has finished the plane and began flying it this month. Here's his site: Rob's plane .

It's so nice to catch up. We've all changed a lot, but really not so much. I saw pix of his kids. His daughter looks just like his wife. I forgot to bring pix of mine, so maybe next time.

Nothing particularly profound about this. Just felt like sharing. Later....

You Are A Fig Tree

You are very independent and strong minded. A hard worker when you want to be, you play hard too. You are honest and loyal. You hate contradiction or arguments. You love life, and you live for your friends, children, and animals. A great sense of humor, artistic talent, and intelligence are all gifts you possess.

What's Your Celtic Horoscope?