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March 25, 2005
For reasons too boring to post, I'm hyperlinking you to my other blog spot.

www.contemplativemom.com/blog/

That is what I'll be using for a while. If I change my mind, I'll send you back here. Sorry to be so inconsistent. I'm trying to become more technologically proficient, and also to post regularly. Perhaps by returning to this option, I'll prove myself to be a more faithful blogger.

And of course an interesting feature that I'll leave on is the comment option. You can comment on my posts for all the world to read!

March 14, 2005
The crocuses are poking up their bright petals and looking around at the gloom in which they emerge, seeming to understand their contribution to the general mood. For me they represent a shift from the gray skies of winter; a promise, more so than even the daffodil, that it's finished. Spring is in the works. Soccer will soon be upon us.

On a completely different note, having unfortunately nothing to do with flowers, we have been invaded. A couple of months ago, a friend came over with a Gameboy. This awoke the jeering green giant of envy and desire in each of the children so fierce that we've staggered back in astonishment.

"Kids truly seem to get addicted to those things," my good friend warned. "I had to limit the use to no more than one hour a day for my son. He was getting obsessed. It's the first privilege we take away when he's in trouble, too."

I didn't want this. I didn't want to monitor it, demand that it be turned off, and become basically the Gameboy police. When the kids asked about it, I said, "I will not support that. I will not buy you one. If you," and here is where I didn't think through the consequences of my words before it was too late, "want to raise the money yourself and pay for it, that's your choice. But I won't buy the Gameboy or any of the games. I just won't. And if you do manage to get one someday and I see that you start to get obsessed with it, you turn it off the moment I say so."

Aren't you glad I'm not your mom.

Well, that small slip, that suggestion that they could use their own funds, was my undoing. One of the most frugal shoppers hadn't frittered away her funds on gumballs and purses. She, instead, had a pretty hefty sum in her bank account.

She now has a Gameboy.

And two games.

The other two, less frugal and also with fewer means to earn money, are exhibiting a great deal of patience and industriousness. They are doing every job in the house we can think of for money. Last night, my husband said, "If you can think of any tasks that need to be done, there is an employment line in this house. They're standing around with signs hanging from their necks that read, 'Will work for Gameboy'."

So I made the list. Our bathrooms are sparkling. The basement floor is fairly clear. The videos are organized, the carpets are vacuumed. The cars are cleaned out and vacuumed, as well. The four million sweetgum balls that drop from our trees every two days or so are also a source of revenue for them. Our laundry is folded and put away.

Maybe the Gameboy isn't such a bad idea after all?

In that same discussion last night, my husband said, "We need to take advantage of this opportunity, because it'll all dry up when they earn enough to cover those things."

"Yes," I agreed, "but there are always the games." At about twenty bucks a game, we may have clean and folded jeans for several months, maybe a year! And for the first time since we moved into this house, we might even have a year when the sweetgum balls aren't biodegrading in the front yard in muddy patches, apparently draining nutrients from the lawn.

Thus begins our lives with Gameboy.

March 8, 2005
In an effort to organize herself, our youngest daughter made a little list, to remember what she wanted to accomplish the next morning. She propped it up on the kitchen table between the blue candlesticks. My husband brought it in to show me later that night. In first-grade printing, it reads:

morning routine
make money
make clothes for care-bears

A list, my husband said, that would do Martha Stewart proud.

March 3, 2005
Well, hello there! It's tax time, and Turbotax is on the computer I have to use for blogging. Plus, I've had a birthday and other distractions. But here I am.

This morning I spoke at a MOPS group. I had a great time, the ladies were terrific, and I was feeling really great about the day. Driving home, I was on a 40 mph stretch of road but hit a school zone while my youngest was singing, "We are the grapes...of wrath..." from Veggie Tales really loud, making us laugh and distracting me. I slowed down just an instant after a cop clocked me. The ticket would have been a doozy--it would have cost me more than I made from my speaking engagement! In a marvelous display of generosity and mercy, he gave me a warning instead of a ticket.

It somehow captured the ups and downs of life compressed into a few short hours. You can have a wonderful "high" and speed directly into a "low" within a few short minutes.

I could have kissed the cop for the warning. He said, "I'm giving you a warning. I should be giving you a ticket, but I saw you just had your birthday, and I just thought..." he trailed off and I responded humbly, "Thank you. Thank you very much."

I have no deep thoughts regarding this. Only: watch your speed!

February 19, 2005

Hotel Rwanda.

Right now, I am sitting with it. Stunned.

February 18, 2005
On the Sojourners main page, scroll down to two short interviews, one with Philip Yancey, the other with Wendell Berry. I send you there to provoke thought. They are no more than five minutes each.

February 8, 2005
Clearly we've been watching far too much "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition."

The first clue came when we were watching the sister show, "How'd They Do That?" on Monday night. The show ended, and as we turned it off our preschooler burst into tears. "It's over," we said.

"No it's not! It's not over!"

"Yes it is," we said.

"No, it's not over. They didn't get to see the rooms!" He started wailing, weeping, heartbroken. How do you explain to a three-year-old that the show that looks exactly the same as the other show isn't the same show?

The next clue came when we were soothing him after the first misunderstanding. "This show is about how they built the house. It shows how Ty built the secret room," I tried to explain.

Hubby tried a shift in direction, a slight diversion, "Maybe you'll be a builder someday, like Ty?"

The boy perks up. "Yeah, I'll be a builder. I don't like this house. I don't like my room. I'm going to crash down the walls and build a new house. Come on! Let's crash down the walls!"

"Oh, no, honey. We have to leave our walls up. We can't crash it and start over. We can repaint, however. We can paint your walls orange sometime. Wouldn't that be nice?"

He frowned, picked up blankie, stuck his fingers in his mouth and walked back to his room.

February 1, 2005
I just finished Mark Buchanan's book The Holy Wild.

It's about the character of God. With that title, I had no idea where he would take it. I only read the book because a friend of mine insisted. She pulled it off the library shelf and flipped through it, then found it impossible to put down. "He reminds me of you, actually," she said. Now that I've read him, I'm greatly flattered. He far surpasses any ability I have with words.

One of the goals of his book, it seems, is to help us understand God's character so well that we'll learn to trust Him anew. On page 43, he writes:

In the middle of God’s second response to Habakkuk, He says something that is the key to the whole book. It’s the key to the whole question of whether God is good. It’s the key, in fact, to the whole of life.

“The righteous,” He says, “will live by his faith.”

At first blush, this seems cold comfort yet again. An ice pack applied to a ruptured organ. A tin shack erected against a typhoon.

But it’s infinitely more than that. It is, in fact, a truth utterly basic to life. The core of the Christian life is to live by faith.

And faith is finally this: resting so utterly in the character of God—in the ultimate goodness of God—that you trust Him even when He seems untrustworthy.

By the end of Buchanan's book, I feel that he took me to Scripture, pointing me to truth about God and expanding on it in ways I may never forget. I think he met his goal, helping me do just that: rest in the character of God...trusting Him even when He seems untrustworthy.

Here's a short review from the Amazon link.

Mark Buchanan is a rare combination. Certain authors are weak in the writing department, yet they do a wonderful job of telling stories and communicating truth. Others are masters in the art of literature, but they fail to touch us on a heart level. Buchanan mixes sparkling words with piercing insight, and delivers a book that should be read by all.

"The Holy Wild" is a book for anyone who has struggled with the questions of life. It doesn't turn its eyes from the ugliness of disease or disaster; it doesn't candy-coat the realities of abuse and addiction. It does, however, nudge us into the presence of the living God, reminding us to view life through his majesty, his justice, and his grace.

With the theological depth of CS Lewis and the storytelling ease of John Eldredge, Mark Buchanan is a voice that demands to be heard.

January 28, 2005
Last night I was re-enacting the same scene I explained in yesterday's blog for a friend. "No, you didn't!" she exclaimed after I said "...peace." "Did you end with 'Shalom'?" she asked.

"No," I said, "but if you spun me around at that moment, you would have seen the Dayspring Christian Card logo stamped on my back."

One of the brothers who heard my two ridiculous "speeches" is an outstanding improv actor. How I wish I could have climbed into his head for those seconds and listened in to what was going on his brain as I stood there.

I'm making a bigger deal out of this than it really was, of course. And far more important than anything silly I might have said is that this family really did seem to be celebrating their father/husband's life and honoring him in his death. It made an impression on me and left me hoping I can celebrate and honor my loved ones so well.

January 27, 2005
It seems that as soon as I exit my mom life and enter whatever the rest of life is for other people, I tend to say extra-stupid things. I say things that I regret, that cause me to toss and turn at night. I say things that I have to apologize for later. I talk too fast and end up in unedited mode, and that's trouble. Well, you can imagine my fear heading into a visitation this week. The parent of a friend passed away, and I knew the entire family. Time to walk among other adults and hope that I refrain from completely embarrassing myself.

My time at the visitation was going fairly well, with my prudent husband leading the way, nodding appropriately, not feeling the need to follow up with a comment or ask a nutty question. The worst that happened up to that point is that in a conversation with a very intelligent actor-director, I confused Peer Gynt with Pygmalion, and that didn't feel too terrible. Then my spouse headed out a few minutes before me to get back home, as our babysitter had to be someplace else. I was on my own.

A few minutes later, just before saying goodbye to the family, I was enjoying a story from one of them. Then as it happened, most of the family members gathered together, facing me, in a doorway. I could have just said, "Good-bye, friends." Or I could have just turned to go, waving slightly, and that could have been it. But there they all were, standing there looking at me with lovely smiles spread across their faces, saying nothing. It seemed as if a closing word or two were needed, a little comment to punctuate my departure, a thoughtful phrase.

It was a perfect setup for something very stupid to come out of my mouth.

So I began a clunky one-sentence speech. "Well, I hope...I hope that the next few days your family can...really enjoy a precious time together." They nodded, thanked me, and then something happened--I can't seem to piece it all together again in my memory--but I turned back. I turned back!

Someone began another story, or someone started to introduce me to someone. I just can't remember the details, but about two minutes later I found myself in the exact same "scene," with the family grinning at me gathered in that same doorway. I was facing them. I had an audience looking expectant, and this English major felt words spinning around wildly in her brain. The second mini-speech began, and I realized I was in trouble. I began it just as the first one! "Well, I hope that..."

This is an intelligent, creative family I was facing, and I detected what could have been a slight smirk appear on the face of one of the brothers. He knew. He heard this speech just minutes earlier and couldn't wait to see how I would adapt it. Was I going to simply repeat it word-for-word? How would I escape?

I was thinking, "Ann, you're an idiot. Abort! Stop talking!"

But, no. I had to finish the speech. It was a slow speech, filled with thoughtful pauses where I frantically fished for words. "Well, I hope that...your family.......finds....(this pause was really long, but then it came to me)....peace."

Period. Smile. Wave. The brother with the slight smirk smiled. I think he approved. I had not made a total idiot of myself; only half-idiot. The rest smiled, nodded slightly, and I turned and high-tailed it out of that place before I had to compose another "closing thought."

I should have just left when my spouse left. When he had to leave, he just said good-bye.

I should be so wise.

January 21, 2005
We grabbed the videotape recorder and caught our youngest saying things like, "peanut butter'n ammich" for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and "yashwa" for his friend Joshua and "shorry, Papa" for, of course, "sorry." He's fine-tuning himself, so the lisps and grammatical errors are more quickly corrected all on his own. As a result, we're in a constant state of melancholy, even mild grief. Since we plan on him being the end of the line, it's the last. Every first of his is the last first, and everything that ends is it. Done. Finished. Pretty soon, no one will come marching out of the bathroom with his face red with frustration exclaiming, "She didn't let me fwush!"

"What?"

"[Sister] didn't let me (he pauses to enunciate clearly) flush!"

Soon, flushing the toilet will be no big deal.

I'm sharing this grief with the older kids, too, because they are enjoying him so much. He clearly said "peanut butter and jelly" yesterday, and they all looked up in surprise. "Did you hear that?" one of them said. "He said it right!"

I said, "See? Try to remember how cute all those things are that he says wrong, because he's going to correct himself more and more. Enjoy them while he's doing it, because it won't last long."

Their smiles fell, their eyes grew wide. After a pause, one of them said, "Then why do you correct him?"

"Because..."

"You should just let him keep saying them, if they're so cute."

Interesting. What's a mom to do?

January 16, 2005
TESTING ONCE MORE 10pm
Christian Quotation of the Day

January 16, 2005

Do little things as though they were great, because of the majesty of Jesus Christ who does them in us, and who lives our life: and do the greatest things as though they were little and easy, because of His omnipotence.

... Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), Pensees [1660]

January 15, 2005
Here I am in the midst of technological aggravation, but I'm trying. I'm really trying to figure out what's going wrong and make changes. I'm sorry to leave everyone hanging on these rather uninspiring blogs.

My 3yo is writing deliberately on a piece of lined paper, waiting to read it to my husband and me. It's a story. "Almost ready, Pop?"

"Yes."

"He said 'Almost ready,' Mama. Have to clean up the table, Pop?"

"Yes, I've got to clean up the table."

"He's got to clean up the table, Mama. Almost ready?"

"Almost ready."

"He's almost ready, Mama. I'm just going to write these down," he explains as he locates another pencil. Good editor.

His papa continues to hustle around the kitchen clearing dishes. "Almost ready, Pop?"

"Almost ready."

We may have some problems with the understanding of "almost," but moms tend to mess up this one, too. They say, "We're ready to go! Come on, kids, it's time to head out the door," while visiting a friend. Then they stand at the door and talk to their friend for another 20 minutes.

By the time the table was cleared and Pop was ready, the 3yo lost interest. "I don't want to tell the story. I want to play." He refuses to tell the story.

"The paper's right down there," I motioned to Pop. "Perhaps we could read what you wrote?" I asked the 3yo.

"Yes, you can come in here and read it to me," the 3yo decides. Pop turns to me and makes a face. The kid wants Papa to read the scribble-story.

"Looks like you'll be reading the story yourself," I suggest to my rather uncreative spouse. "Next time you need to come when he calls. You can't put off a three year old for that long."

"I'm learning," he concedes. He picks up the paper.

"It's probably about his friend," I propose. "They usually are."

A few questions are asked for clarification, and the story begins. The three year old interrupts to clarify the drastically understated story begun by his Papa, adding all the details, telling, in essence the story. There are dolphins, sharks, shark shows, polar bears, monkeys, giraffes, ducks...it's a good story. I'm glad we didn't lose it forever just because we were "almost ready" for too long.

January 8, 2005
Experiment: Trying to post from new computer.

January 8, 2005
I have no idea what I just did right, but it worked. I was able to post to the web again. What did I do different this time that I didn't do 47 times over the past few days trying to post?

Let's just see if I can do it again. Before I try, however, let me just say that I was poking around in blogdom and found an interesting fellow who is blogging in my general area. Several people listed his as a link in their own blogs, and they are in the emergent church world. Now I know I had my rather negative, sarcastic blogs a while back about emergent stuff, but I'm over that now; I'll listen. I'm open-minded.

I'm not yet entirely sure what his simple church is like, but simple sounds very good to us right now.

Tomorrow we're going to go to an early service at a church nearby where some friends attend. Early! Our sleep schedule is so messed up from Christmas vacation, I have no idea how I'll manage to get up and get dressed.

Perhaps the only nice thing about going to early church service is that I have some clothes to wear. I picked up several items at my local secondhand store. If you know me, you know what a secondhand store freak I am. I told some friends that I had watched a few of those makeover shows like "What Not to Wear," and I think I have some basic principles down. I don't get the subtle suggestions, but I've grasped the big ideas. As a result, I can now mosey down the aisles see right away what has potential and what doesn't. I'm still probably a year-and-a-half from what's truly trendy, but I'm upgrading myself a little at a time.

I'm in a slow self-improvement phase, you see. After being in and out of maternity clothes for the past decade, it's nice to know I'm at the end of all that. I've lost a good amount of the flab from baby 4 (who is now 3 years old), though there's still some hanging around. So I can upgrade to a more reasonable size and still look ahead to the potential of getting rid of those remaining 10 pounds and getting a few more items in the next size down. Then again, maybe not. I may just have to make peace with the flab and keep the sizes I'm buying. At any rate, buying secondhand clothes seems like a reasonable way to make some improvements in my wardrobe. In with a newer item, out with the ridiculously old, oversized, out-of-style items. You should see some of the sweaters and pants I just put in the donation bags. Some are in excellent shape, they just don't fit my shape any longer.

If I eat too many of those desserts, however, I may have trouble squeezing into the new items! I may send them with my hubby to work. He can set them on a plate and offer them to passers-by. He can hand-print a little sign: "Please eat these so my wife can still fit into her new clothes."

Can I call them "new" when they're secondhand?

"New to me."

January 6, 2005
I'm having some technical difficulties with my new computer and all the gadgets that are trying to link it to the PC. I'm grateful and frustrated at the same time. Technology continues to be like one's best friend who comes over and puts sugar in the salt shaker and short sheets the beds. I feel all confused and mixed up; nothing's working like it did before. But I'm having fun.

New year, new computer, wishing I had lots of new ideas about how to live this life of mine. Then I realize that if I keep on living it the way I have been, I'll probably be okay. I seem to have the urge to reinvent the wheel even when things are rolling along perfectly smoothly.

I made an unbelievably rich dessert last night. I may pack on about 10 pounds from munching these sweets. Trouble.

December 31, 2004
New Year's Eve, rather sober in light of the chaos of the world. We're up. We're watching a movie. We're eating popcorn. But we're pretty low key. We probably would have been otherwise, but it seems weird to be carefree party people today. I was touched to hear that many countries were choosing not to do big fireworks celebrations and giving the money to aid instead.

December 30, 2004
Tsunamis. Waves of terror. So many dead.

What do we do? How do we pray?

Monies going out to aid agencies, a small thing.

As for prayer? Come, Lord Jesus. Have mercy, Lord, please have mercy.

December 29, 2004
Technical difficulties again......

December 28, 2004
The Christmas tree is soon to leave the building. It proved to be a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree, with needles dropping by the dozens from the slightest movement of someone brushing up against it. I read about a family choosing their Christmas tree, the kids examining every branch carefully before making their final selection. Our experience?

Car stops. Kids pop out, rush to the trees, pointing and shouting, "This one, Papa!"

"No!" another shrieks, "this one!" The trees at which they were pointing leaned in piles against others. It was impossible to tell the shape. We hold them up for a closer look, but no discernment is practiced; only the continuing shouts, "This one looks perfect!" While the older three battle it out, the youngest talks to the lawn ornaments such as the deer and the little boy on the fountain: "How are you today? Fine, thanks. It's good to see you. Do you want a Christmas tree, too?"

In 15 minutes or less, we settled on the short, squatty tree with a crooked trunk and falling needles that has been our symbol of life for the month. Now, this "symbol of life" is finally heading out the door, leaving a carpet of needles in its wake. I've been vying for a fake tree the last three years, but everyone loves a real one, needles and all.

December 26, 2004
Do you hear what I hear?
A blip,
a beep,
coming from the games
that we bought our kids for Christmas...
that we bought our kids for Christmas.

We gave each one of them a handheld electronic game: Hangman, Battleship, UNO, and Connect Four. They are attempting to outwit the computer. I'm about to drink coffee and eat a frosted chocolate-gingerbread cookie my sister-in-law made to share with us on Christmas Day. Dad gave each grandkid a snow shovel and knit cap of their very own, to assist with driveway clearing.

Looks like the snow is short-lived; the five-day forecast shows a warming trend. I might even go jogging in a couple of days. If temperatures can stay above 38, I can stand it. I'm even somewhat pleasant.

In other news, I posted some books on Half.com and actually sold one already! This is quite motivating, and greatly pleases the builder of bookshelves in our family. I'm going to continue purging, one title at a time. I think I need to prove to myself that I can do this. All those episodes of "Clean Sweep" have motivated me.

December 23, 2004
Here's Christmas card art for the Christmas cards I never seem to get made and sent out. Merry Christmas everyone!

Both by a Kroeker kid, age 9

by a Kroeker kid, age 10

December 22, 2004
From P.W.

Thank you, P., for sharing what you so vividly recalled from your childhood: the first time eating an orange. I can remember the first time I ate a Clementine when we were in Belgium several years ago. Now they are commonplace even here. But I was happy to be someone who knew what they were when they first started showing up in our grocery stores. I love a ripe orange. And during Christmas time, we love sweet Clementines. We get pretty sick of them by February, however. Isn't that a shame? What a tragedy to begin to take for granted anything, yet all of us do. How many of us thanked the Lord when we woke up breathing? Well, maybe you did, but I didn't remember until this instant. Anyone who gets used to the ocean, well, I say phooey on them. But I suppose if you woke up and saw it every day, it would start to feel like the sun rising and setting--something you become so used to that you stop noticing and feeling grateful that it happened again. And so it is with Christmas presents and oranges.

December 21, 2004
Time to wrap the last few items before Christmas. I was so proud of myself for working ahead and making some purchases early. Then the kids announced that what they really wanted was...something I had not purchased nor planned to. I can't seem to win.

Next year they are going to get an orange and some peanuts in their stockings, and the amount we might have spent on them otherwise will go to charity. That'll solve this problem, don't you think?

December 19, 2004
Hello, stranger! How are you?

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is over, so I can sit down and tell a story or two.

Shall I tell you about a little girl who had a wish list for her birthday? She had some wish list items, and I could manage to make most of them happen. One of the wishes I had no control over, however: she wanted snow on her birthday. It's been an unseasonably warm winter, so I tried to prepare her. "You know, it's been so warm that it probably won't snow." But she wished it when she blew out her candles at her party two days before, and she prayed for it several nights at bedtime. And what do you think happened on her birthday?

Snow.

We couldn't believe it! Enough snow to say it snowed came down, rather than a light dusting, and we all celebrated that her wishes and hopes and dreams came true!

I just hope no one slipped off the road and was injured because of my little girl's birthday snow.

December 10, 2004
Oh, I know what you're thinking; you're imagining me lounging on my couch watching Biography and TLC and HGTV and movies, right? Okay, well, I have watched three or four episodes of Clean Sweep. And I saw two of Trading Spaces. I haven't ventured into HGTV yet. Hubby watched a show about fixing up cars. But really my life has been about Christmas, and just two days ago I was out checking on a few items. I walked into Barnes and Noble to look for a book for my dad, and so I was on the phone with my mom. While I was asking her about an author, I started toward the front to pay, then I started whispering into the phone, "Okay, Mom, I'm going to tell you something in a moment, but I have to walk this way before I can say it, out of earshot, okay, guess what--I'm looking at David Letterman's Mom!" My mom was impressed. "What should I do?" I asked. "Nothing!" she laughed. I ended up in line directly behind her while she discussed with the cashier an item she had on hold. I leaned over and whispered to the person next to me, "That's David Letterman's mom." "NO!" she said more at the volume of a stage whisper." "It is," I assured her. After all, I'd just seen the Thanksgiving show, where David guessed his mom's pies; I had a recent memory of her. We caught her profile, and the neighbor in line grinned and nodded. "Yep, that's her. I should get her autograph, because that's the closest to David I'll ever get!" I found that to be kind of funny, I guess, though I didn't let on, because I have found David Letterman's Mom's willingness to go along with his silly, goofy ideas one of the most charming things about the David Letterman show. I adored her when she reported on the Olympics. That was many years ago, now, but it was the winter Olympics and he would get her to ask the silliest questions, and she'd just do it in that sweet, low voice of hers. As for me, I'd want David Letterman's Mom's autograph as much as I'd want David's.

I phoned to tell my husband about it. "How do you know it wasn't just some other older woman who looks like her?"

"It was her." It was. I knew the voice, and she was talking as she turned away, about the item that wasn't what she had expected. I wanted to say something about the pies, but because of my track record with relatively famous people, I decided not to. I've embarrassed myself too many times. I let her continue Christmas shopping in peace.

December 4, 2004
I didn't want to complain about my online experience. It still seems somewhat miraculous that I can have so many resources at my fingertips. Still, staying content with dial-up was getting harder and harder to do, especially with the research I was working on. During the long wait, as websites slowly loaded, I'd either take a short break and mop the kitchen floor or sit in my desk chair and mutter, "I need more power, Scottie!" At times, as my eyes glazed over while watching the blue bar fill up, I'd dream of warp speed. But the cheapskate in me that resisted an upgrade would simply shout back, "I'm givin' ya all she's got, Cap'n! If ya push her any harder, she'll break up!"

But we caved in. The cable man came by this week, and we're on high speed Internet access, baby! I've got Google wrapped around my little finger.

Trouble is, the cheapest deal--this is not a joke--the cheapest hookup deal included a month of basic cable. It was actually cheaper, because of free installation, to get basic cable along with the cable modem, than to simply get the computer stuff and forget the TV.

So we have cable...for a month.

It's funny; I thought there would be all these amazing stations offering shows I only dreamed about. It wasn't so great. I watched "Trading Spaces" for the first time. And "Clean Sweep." They were fun, I guess. I'm ready to go to the basement and pitch some junk, so that's good. Perhaps our next garage sale will pay for this month's cable bill? I hope I don't get hooked on something goofy, however, and never make it down there.

I still prefer "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," which I got with regular old network television. I think we'll just keep it for the one month. You can hold me accountable--ask me in late January what I'm watching on TV. If I say, "Oh my goodness, I just love this Discovery show!" then tease me mercilessly.

Shhhh....the kids don't know we've got cable. We only access the stations on our bedroom TV. The basement appears to only have network television. That way when we cancel, they won't even feel the difference.

December 1, 2004
We sing a repertoire of songs to our preschooler each night as part of his bedtime routine. During "Jesus Loves Me," we do some hand motions that he learned at Sunday school. About a month ago we added two songs in French (it's quite a long bedtime routine, let me tell you!), one of which is "Jesus m'aime," that is, "Jesus Loves Me" in French. The chorus translates exactly, so I did the same hand motions.

"No!" he shouted. "Not 'Jesus Loves Me'! The song in French!"

"This is the song in French. It's 'Jesus Loves Me' in French. Listen." I sang the chorus again and did the motions. His eyes grew wide. In a hushed, awed tone, he whispered, "Wowwww....wowwww....I can't believe it."

"Oui, Jésus m'aime,
Oui, Jésus m'aime,
Oui, Jésus m'aime,
La Bible me le dit."

C'est vrai. C'est incroyable!

November 29, 2004
Lord God, almighty and everlasting Father, you have brought me in safety to this new day: Preserve me with your mighty power, that I may not fall into sin, nor be overcome by adversity; and in all I do direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord. (Collect for Morning Prayer)

November 20, 2004
We had a delicious pizza for dinner tonight. I even commented on it, "Papa John's really does a good job, don't you think?" My husband agreed. A minute or two later, as he closed the cardboard lid of the box, he exclaimed, "Well, no wonder you loved it. No wonder they do a good job--look!" Then he pointed to this sticker that was affixed to the box lid (I hope you can read it):

Who says you can't get good help nowadays?

November 19, 2004
Another comment:

"Naw, I think I'll just wait and ask God."

What a great response! What faith she displayed in that response. What respect she displayed in that response. What hope she displayed in that response. What patience she displayed in that response.

It was interesting how your daughter didn't need you to "fill in the gap". She didn't need you to explain the unexplainable. She was ok with the mystery of it all. We don't like living with questions. We always want answers. In fact, from some vantage points, questioning is seen as a negative thing. Some people equate questioning with doubting. Do I doubt God because I question God? They are not one in the same. To question is to be curious, to be seeking, to be wondering. Do we ever reach a point in our life that we have it so figured out that we cease our questions? No! Most kids go through a questioning phase. You know what I'm talking about? They question everything. Why do they stop? Why have I stopped? Because we believe that if we question something we are doubting it. People will think certain things of us if we "doubt" a certain belief. You know what, God gave me a brilliant mind. Most of it lies dormant because I've given into this mentality of acceptance and complacency. Ann, you have awakened my mind. You have awakened me to think. To question. When I say question I don't mean questioning with arrogance or in rebellion against that which is established. I want to humbly seek my God, asking great questions that unlock and reveal deeper, more meaningful glimpses into who he is. I want to listen for His voice. I'm not questioning him to attack him, I'm questioning him because I'm curious. Does that make sense?

What an encouraging story...such simple words, yet profound.
--
Posted by me at 11/18/2004 07:53:19 PM

November 17, 2004
Blogger was making life difficult for a friend of mine who tried to sign up. Instead, she e-mailed me with a comment, which I'm posting here. If you ever want to do it that way, just send me an e-mail at the address above (in bold, always above the newest entry).

COMMENT: Ann, Erwin McManus of Mosaic was one of my husband's professors at Bethel Seminary in his doctoral program! How cool is that!?!

COMMENT on the comment: Very!

November 17, 2004
This came from the other blog site which, by the way, I can't always access, so I'm behind in cross-posting. This is a comment on artistry from "me," an unidentified commentator.

Comment on artistry..

Excerpts from the book, "Unstoppable Force" by Erwin McManus

"In many churches compliance and conformity are the greatest values. There is rarely a rumor, much less a reality, of a church being the center point of imagination, invention, and innovation. If we are teaching sound theology but neglecting to create an environment in which people fulfill their God-given purpose, are we not, by definition, an unhealthy culture?" p108

"At the same time, the church has been at best aesthetically challenged, if not in fact an enemy of the arts. Somewhere on the road, we seem to have lost our love of beauty for beauty's sake, as if somehow God did not indulge in this kind of triviality. Those who worship the God of creation must never forget how beauty both reflects God and his values. Artistry matters to God." p109

"A culture is a beautiful art piece that uses people as its canvas." p. 112

I loved this idea of McManus: "Periodically at Mosaic we create a forum called Velocity. It is an explosion of creativity. It's 2 hours of dance, drama, poetry, short film, and comedy all wrapped up into one experience...The church is one of the few places where children are actually encouraged to sing. The church is one of the few places where musical talent is nurtured and developed...We dream of a day when local churches will be known for their wellspring of creativity and the Steven Spielbergs and Quentin Tarantinos will be forced to visit churches to keep up with the newest innovations and the most creative artistry." p 128

November 14, 2004
If you watched "Faith Under Fire" this week, I just want to apologize for the last, long ad. If you watched it, you know what I'm talking about. I hope the show grows in popularity so that PAX can be more selective about how they fill those breaks.

Now, I know I didn't answer David K's question about what I would ask God. First of all, some questions are a little too personal to post here. Actually, now that I'm thinking about some of them, I'm feeling a little too embarrassed to type them out.

I was talking with my kids about having questions we'll ask God when we're with Him. One of the kids looked up and said, "I have some questions that I want to ask."

 "Like what?" I asked. "Could you share any of them with us?"

"I think so. I'd ask God, 'Why can we see the moon in the daytime sometimes?' And things like that."

"That's a very good question," I said, after a pause. I was debating about what to do. Finally, I said, "You know, some things--not all, but some things--people have been able to figure out. Like the moon, well, you could ask Mrs. P. about that (her science teacher), because she knows a lot about science. I'm pretty sure she could explain that to you, if you want to know. Not that I'm saying she's as smart as God, and there are still a billion questions that she can't answer that only God can, but...you might start with Mrs. P. And then the ones she can't handle, you could try to figure out when you're older, or just wait and ask God."

She listened politely to me, cocked her head to one side, thinking, then stated, "Naw, I think I'll just wait and ask God."

November 11, 2004
My friend David K has been commenting on the other blog site. With regard to my blog about asking questions of God, he asked:

At Thursday, November 11, 2004 David K said... What are some questions you would ask

After my mom responded to the question of artists (see November 2), he wrote this:

At Thursday, November 11, 2004, David K said... Thanks for the reply "mom". I am intrigued by writers and artists. Their ability to put thoughts and ideas into words and pictures is an incredible talent. You have a really cool gift.

Finally, to refresh your memory, here is a short blog to which David K commented:

We think our kids could do an emergent church thing at our house. Just set out some paper and crayons or cray-pas pastels, or watercolor...a little artistic expression right there, modeled by uninhibited worshipers. I think they could lead the way, a multi-generational experience. And a little child would lead them! Perfect.

Oh, and of course there's always the clay. Molding, working that stuff, to express ourselves. Yep, Emergent Church led by the kids. Why hasn't anyone thought of this? The third- and first-graders could inspire the preschooler, and we'd be singing and molding and coloring in no time. "Come on, Mommy! Color with me! Here's Jesus, this is you, this is me, and we're singing, see?"

I can see it, yes, I can.
**************************************************************************
Are you being sarcastic here??? Or perhaps some insight into your thoughts on Emergent Worship.

--
Posted by David K to Contemplative Mom at 11/11/2004 03:50:54 PM
*********************************************************************************
Good question. What *did* I mean? I wish I could go back and figure out what kind of mood I was in. Was I feeling feisty that night? Melancholy? Bored? Analytical? I can't remember.

From what I've read of Emergent Church services, many include individual artistic opportunities for worship, and I've heard about stations where various media are available, including clay, pastels and watercolor. That part is serious, in case you've never heard about these ideas (and I mean more than you, David, because I know for example that my mom reads this, and I don't think she knows much about Emergent Church ideas). So I'm taking those concepts, which are practiced in some Emergent Church services (though it appears in my research that it's difficult to generalize about Emergent churches), and having a little fun with them.

But then there was a sort of poignant moment as I was writing this blog when I thought, "You know, maybe there is a simple attitude, a childlike attitude, that is appropriate." And that led to a train of thought that probably did start out at least with a teasing tone--I must have been feisty at that point--and then I realized that a little child could really lead "them", or *us*. As soon as I imagined one of my kids looking up saying, "Come on, Mommy...Here's Jesus, this is you, this is me..." I thought I really could envision that. I could picture families worshiping like that, together. Then I was more contemplative.

That's a long answer, but I will admit I might have been trying to get people to talk and think a bit about what this Emergent concept is about. It's too complicated and I know too little to really field these questions, however. I do respect many of the Emergent bloggers out there, for example, and those who are writing about it. They really are giving it deep consideration as they live it out.

Here, by the way, is a great place to start exploring the web-explanations of Emergent Church. At this site, a brief explanation of its history is provided along with a bunch of links.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emerging_Church

November 9, 2004
This comment was posted at the other site. I want to be sure everyone gets a chance to enjoy these thoughts:

An artist, to me, is more than someone who pursues. True artistry to me is the act of creation and releasing. One who creates and releases is an artist. An artist releases something from within themselves into the world around them. This releasing, this birthing, is itself a creation. People are touched by these creations because at a fundamental, basic level we are all human. We live our lives at this fundamental level with common needs, common fears, common wants. As artists release their creations from within, these creations resonate on a fundamental level with all of us. Theses creations bring words to emotions that we all have felt, these creations bring images and colors to thoughts we have all had. In a sense, artists bring definition to the mosaic of the human soul. With each creation we have a glimpse into who we all are as human beings. When we see into ourselves, we are moved, we are stirred. This explains why the words of a song from a person you don't know stir your own soul.

We tend to think of artists as only those whose medium is paint or music but I would challenge that thought. I think artists are all around. People are constantly creating, releasing their expression into the world.

I think we are God-like when we are acting like "artists". God's very nature is to create and to release. One of the most godly things we can do is to create, to release that "thing" from within us into the world. It takes courage to do this because this releasing is so incredibly personal. This releasing exposes you to your very core. But we can't keep it in, we have to get it out.

Just a few thoughts on artistry...

--
Posted by David K to Contemplative Mom at 11/9/2004 03:27:22 PM

November 8, 2004
Yesterday evening I attended a public conversation among three thoughtful people, including Howard Gardner (Multiple Intelligences guy), Andre Dubus III (author of House of Sand and Fog), and Renita Weems, an author, educator and minister. The moderator was author Scott Russell Sanders. The resulting discussion was fascinating.

At the very end, Sanders asked a question for us all to ponder as we consider how to make a difference in the world, and I found it hopeful and provocative. Usually when people consider how they might change the world, they're thinking "What can I change?" or even "What am I opposed to?" and one might go so far as to ask "What can I get rid of?"

Instead, Sanders posed the question in the positive: "Ask yourself, 'What do I want to see more of in the world?'"

He offered a starter list, to get us thinking. "Do you want to see more laughter?" he asked. "More happy, healthy children? Do you want to see more green space?" He had more items than that on the list; those are the only ones I can recall just now.

I loved the hopefulness of the question and how positive it felt.

What do I want to see more of in the world?

As a believer in Jesus Christ, this takes on an even more interesting slant...what does the Lord Himself want to see more of in the world, as far as I can ascertain from Scripture. Then, understanding that, what do I hope to see more of in the world and suspect that He might be calling me to be part of bringing it about?

It's a big question that I'm not sure I'm ready to answer.

November 6, 2004
This is a little silly, I'll admit, but sometimes I reach for my cell phone and realize I didn't really have a person I needed or wanted to call. I set it down, then, and realize I'm wanting to hear from the Lord.

It happens online sometimes, too, when I'm doing research. I'm looking up something in Google that leads me to something else and then I end up with big, huge questions. My cursor blinks on the entry line with the big G-O-O-G-L-E letters hovering above, and I think, "The only place left to look for the answer to this is the Lord." And then I sit for a moment thinking how nice it would be if the Lord had a system like this where we could type in our questions and issues, click "go" and pull up articles that represent His thoughts on the matter. How nice it would be if we could indeed pick up our cell phone and dial Him up to chat.

I hate to be too simplistic, but I think it really is sort of like that, otherwise what is prayer?

As for looking up subjects on a divine search engine, well, that's not so easy. For that He's given us Scripture and the principles they represent, but I find that harder. The wide range of interpretations are indicative of that, and I happen to be studying Judges right now. My class instructor is giving us some background to understand it better, but it's still hard. He has us back with Milton again, John Milton, reading Samson Agonistes. I don't expect Milton to serve as God's search engine, but he did meditate on that passage enough to address two theological concerns I had while reading the biblical rendition of Samson's life.

I have a list of questions I'd type into God's heavenly search engine, some of them more personal and private, and some more broad and theological in nature. I do ask, on the divine cell phone, but I haven't had very many of them addressed yet.

November 5, 2005-morning
Well, I slept and woke up, so it's the next day for me even though the date is the same on my heading. I just got a link to the Willow Creek Community Church website. They have discussion guides for each of Lee's shows, including this week's.

Click here for discussion guides

Also, I can't seem to get into my Blogger version of these posts to fix a typo or even post a new one. If this continues, I may just give up and stick with this.

November 5, 2004
It's technically the 5th, though it's actually still Ann staying up too late and thus the end of the 4th. I got this interesting response from a friend in New Mexico who owns a theater and is producing (and performing in) edgy, experimental work, at least I think that's how you'd describe their personality as actors and artists. I haven't actually seen any of their shows, so I'm going with the tidbits I'm piecing together. Anyway, I asked her thoughts on being an artist, because she's so committed to it. Here's what she wrote:

"What is it that makes us artists?  Of all the artists I've met (and I've met quite a few), the thing that makes them artists, in my opinion, is their constant and unrelenting pursuit of their work. How this plays itself out is in their constant questioning and (like Waugh) unwillingness to go with something just because it's 'in'. I've known some that LOVED technology, some that eschewed it, but really the issue was not technology but the why behind their choices. A lot of people like to say they are artists because they think its tres chic, but what I've found is that a life in art is very uncomfortable, a lot of hard work that mostly leaves you feeling in constant doubt about everything: Including whether you are an artist or not."

Don't forget I'm double-posting at another site where you can comment on these things! Let me know if you like that version better than this one.

www.contemplativemom.com/blog/ 

November 4, 2004
They say that reading blogs was an effective way to get up-to-the-minute information on the election. They weren't, I'm certain, referring to my blogs. You may have noticed I've remained silent on political matters. Much more intelligent people than I were discussing those matters in-depth on their own blogs, so I decided to stay quiet about it. I hope you didn't mind. I figured you could find more interesting information elsewhere.

Have you watched Lee Strobel's show yet, Faith Under Fire?

You should really check it out at least once. He hosts several mini-debates about a wide range of topics with guests representing opposite (or at least quite different) points of view. I've missed a couple of weeks, so I may have missed some good topics.

This weekend he has Hugh Hefner on as a guest. Isn't that an attention grabber? The only thing you have to get used to is how short the segments are (and how awful the commercials are, which of course Lee has no control over). Just when the guests get rolling and developing their point of view, it's over. I guess it's just to whet our appetite (and keep things moving, if you don't care too much about that particular topic). I'm tuning in to find out what Lee's going to ask Hefner.

What would you ask Hugh Hefner?

It's on PAX, Saturday nights. 10 p.m. EST & PST, 9 p.m. CST & MST.

November 2, 2004
More comments on the Evelyn Waugh post:

Reviewing the original post I wrote: Today's Writer's Almanac had a piece about Evelyn Waugh, whose birthday it is today. Toward the end, they tell us of Waugh, "In his later life, he grew to hate everything about the modern world--modern music, modern art, modern inventions. He never drove. He used an antique pen that had to be constantly re-dipped into ink, and when his hearing went bad, he refused to buy one of the new hearing aids. Instead, he started carrying around a giant horn that he held up to his ear...Waugh lived in a huge house out in the English countryside, as far away from the modern world as he could get, and he kept a pet pig named Glory."
#######  ><>  <><  ><>  #######

Ann,
I just had to respond to this.  When I went to school in Germany we had inkwells and "real" pens.  We even made pens out of duck and geese (goose) feathers.  My Opa "grandpa" lived with us and we had to talk to him through a horn.  I really don't think it was that big but probably 10 to 12 inches long.  He died when I was about five years old.  The one strong memory I have of him is when he would slaughter a goose.  I would watch him and learn from him.  When he died my mother was with him and he said, as he was dying, in German, "I can see the light."   What a memory for me and what a testimony.

I can't wait to get away from this modern world when we move to our new home.  I won't have a pig but probably chickens, rabbits and maybe a goat or two to keep the weeds trimmed.

--P.W.

And then this (from my mom):

Just finished reading your latest...what I have to add probably doesn't mean anything, but it is something I have been thinking about, probably because something recently made me remember last fall's visit to Winchester Cathedral (now my favorite) where Jane Austen is buried. As you know, she is my favorite author, and has been since 1954, when I was "forced" to read "Pride and Prejudice" in a college lit class. She is kind of the "in thing" right now, but I mention that to show I am not just "flopping along with the flow." When I mentioned, in that long-ago lit class, that I thought she was very funny, most of the others thought I was crazy. But she is, subtly, very funny. And in a very modern way. Jane lived about 200 years ago, yet her work is still very fresh, and very true to human nature, which she seemed to understand as well, and better, than anyone since. She wrote under the most difficult conditions, scratching her excellent novels out in quill pen, hastily shoving the pages out of sight if anyone came into the room, because writing novels
was not what well-bred young ladies did in those years. Apropos of what you were saying, I'm not sure how this fits in, except Jane was very forward-thinking in her day, to the point that after 200 years she is still not out of date. But she didn't have any modern technology to aid her, nor even any societal (is that a word?) approval. It humbles me, I guess, because I think I like to write, but today, even a manual typewriter seems too difficult, my time seems too limited, and I like to be more sure of eventual rewards! I admire you, in that respect, because I can't seem to write "on spec." I have hardly ever written anything that I wasn't pretty sure would be published, and me paid for. I don't know if this makes any sense at all....

P.S. Eccentrics like Evelyn Waugh are the "spice" of life, but wouldn't do for most of us for the day-to-day grind.

November 1, 2004
I don't watch much TV these days, but I started tuning into Extreme Makeover: Home Edition on Sunday nights.

Man, o man, if you don't watch this show, just try it once. This coming Sunday night is a two-hour special where they are going to renovate a home for a family that has one son who is blind and another who is deaf.

The show selects families who send in videos to explain their plight, and the team swoops in with volunteer help to transform "homes" (some of them are in such terrible shape I hesitate to use that word) into wonderlands, havens, oases. It's a powerful show that demonstrates how changing an environment can change a life.

There are theatrics and entertainment involved to make it fun to watch, so it's more than establishing a safe and healthy home; they also want it to look cute and appealing esthetically. For the same amount of energy and investment they could probably build 45 Habitat for Humanity homes, but I'm not complaining. No, I'm advocating it as positive television demonstrating how people can make a tangible difference. It's so much more exciting to watch than other reality TV shows that are about greed and gaining. It's about sacrifice and giving. I'd love to see more of this, more of the power of human beings pouring into each other's lives. Media can do this, if those with the power are willing to take the risk, and it seems that they are.

Bravo to ABC, to the folks putting this show together, and for all the companies donating stuff and time and energy and skill so that families in need can be blessed. Sure, the blessings are all things that you can't take with you in the end, but they are also things that breathe hope into people's spirits. For example, this past week highlighted a single woman who adopted two children who were born addicted to drugs. She nursed them to health and has raised these outstanding boys making tremendous sacrifices and dealing with dismal circumstances. She contacted the show because a contractor had bailed on them leaving their home in shambles, uninhabitable. They were renting a one-room attic space with the mom sleeping on a chair. The boys were twelve years old.

At the end of the show, after touring their new space, the contractor announced that they are pledging a scholarship so that the boys can go to college. So it's more than colorful drapes and ingenious fireplaces. It's about generosity from big hearts.

And it's fun, too.

October 30, 2004
Still later in the day...

I read this in today's Writer's Almanac, and it seemed to potentially address the questions raised with the last one I excerpted:

"[Ezra] Pound was set on supporting innovations in all kinds of literature."

[So he was a forward-thinker, supporting forward-thinkers.]

"He critically and financially supported writers like James Joyce, Robert Frost, and T.S. Eliot. He said he had 'to keep alive a certain group of advancing poets, to set the arts in their rightful place as the acknowledged guide and lamp of civilization.'"

I thought you might appreciate the flip side, the idea that artists are the guide and lamp, out in front, illuminating the path, advancing literature or the fine arts or visual and musical arts or whatever arts you can think of. Call these people what you like: forward thinkers, innovators, explorers, risk-takers; maybe they're techno-wizards like Stephen Spielberg or maybe they're anti-technology like Barbara Kingsolver and Wendell Berry...whichever direction they go, they are most likely not flopping-along.

Perhaps that's my fear, of being status-quo; of just going with the flow, not really thinking about life, not really making choices...just letting things roll over me by default. Maybe that's it.

****************************************************
Okay, I had a great conversation with my husband about this (read below). He summarized it better than I. He said, "Forward thinkers aren't trend-followers. You're saying that you're against flopping along with the trends, and he's saying a forward thinker isn't flopping along. You're both right." Forward thinkers are ahead of trends, perhaps setting the next new one. That's quite different from following what's already out there. Artists, the really great ones, which I'm not, are out in front leading the way. They have their machetes out, whacking their way through the dense, unexplored forest of the future. I shuffle along in their wake, padding my way along the half-worn path. This is a good distinction. I wish I were an artist like that. Not only am I *not* on the half-worn path behind those with machetes, I'm way back in the clearing having tea, safe and comfortable.

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

In an effort to cross-post, here is a response that someone offered on the Blogger site (there's another fascinating one I need to fold in about "Cold Mountain," but I'll flesh this out first). In response to my Evelyn Waugh post, I got this reply:

I am different. I like all things modern. I like the new, the different. I like the newest gadgets. I love innovation. If I have "foward thinking" am I just "flopping along"? What if I want to get rid of my old typewriter. What does that make me?

Since when do we call those resistant to change "artists"?

--
Posted by David K to Contemplative Mom at 10/30/2004 12:55:01 AM

Here is what I wrote back on Blogger.

In response to David K, I just want to say a couple of things by way of disclaimer.

1.) I'm not a fan of Evelyn Waugh.
2.) Please understand that I'm not saying that "I'm and artist and I don't like technology, therefore artists don't like technology."
3.) I think I'm saying, rather, "I don't like technology. I like to work at being an artist. Isn't that a curious observation. I wonder if it means anything for me?"

In other words, I'm not trying to make blanket statements about artists and technology. It's more a personal exploration, pondering my "self." In fact, I may gravitate to quotations like Waugh's just because I otherwise think there might be something wrong with me. When I come across something that feels similar to me, I slow down and read it again, thinking, "Okay, here's another person who shares something in common with me. Can what they say help me understand myself?"

Still, you pose an interesting question, and it may be why I'm worried about myself. I think technology and artists marry very well. Artists, ethicists, sociologists and scientists are groups that come to mind as needing to explore the new, different, innovative, forward-thinking things of the world, for totally different reasons with totally different conclusions, most likely.

We do have marvelous movies being made with the newest technology, so there are active artists really creating powerful stuff there.

Perhaps I worry that I'm behind the times and actually like it there. My kids are surely going to roll their eyes. "My mom is SOOOOOO out of it."

October 28, 2004
Today's Writer's Almanac had a piece about Evelyn Waugh, whose birthday it is today. Toward the end, they tell us of Waugh, "In his later life, he grew to hate everything about the modern world--modern music, modern art, modern inventions. He never drove. He used an antique pen that had to be constantly re-dipped into ink, and when his hearing went bad, he refused to buy one of the new hearing aids. Instead, he started carrying around a giant horn that he held up to his ear...Waugh lived in a huge house out in the English countryside, as far away from the modern world as he could get, and he kept a pet pig named Glory."

So he was anti-trend, you see.

Perhaps I should get a pig?

Anyway, they ended with this: "People called him a snob and a reactionary, but he said, 'An artist must be a reactionary. He has to stand out against the tenor of the age and not go flopping along.'"

Perhaps I, too, am a bit of a snob when it comes to current trends and the tenor of this age. But really, like Waugh, I don't want to go flopping along. I don't know that I'm any great artist, but I want to think rather than live by default. If I were living by default, I'd flip through JCrew catalogs and pick up Lucky magazine from time to time to discern trends; I'd own at least one piece of furniture from Pottery Barn and pay for cable television or satellite TV--and I'd watch it, too.

Instead, I toss the catalogs in the recycling bin, shop second-hand stores for both clothes and furniture and occasionally tune into the sparse offerings of network television. I'm not exactly standing against the tenor of the age, and I don't think I'm going so far as to be dubbed reactionary, but I seem determined not to go flopping along.

I'm not consistent, however. I do use a computer, even using the Internet, as you can plainly see. I don't have high-speed access, however, or a laptop. Though I confess I want one. So I'm not so strong in my choices. I would probably buy a hearing aid instead of using the giant horn.

October 25, 2004
I'm thinking about emergent churches again. A few months ago I interacted with some folks at a small church in Florida. This was before I'd read one article about emergent church, so I was just operating in ignorance. I was so moved by these people and how earnest and open they were, I even pondered moving down to join them in whatever they were doing. Little did I know they were doing emergent things, pushing couches into their meeting space, lighting a few candles. What I did notice was that they were keeping things simple, focusing on Jesus. We attended a beach service that included several different churches including theirs, and I felt so drawn to them that I wrote them a note telling them how their contribution was what affected me the most. They wrote back a gracious and humble reply saying something like, "I wish I could say we're emergent church on the cutting edge, but we're really just a bunch of ragamuffins huddling together trying to figure out life." It was charming, disarming, and honest. I looked for the letter, because I saved it for weeks. Unfortunately I can't find it. There's something especially appealing to me about that attitude, however, with the idea that they don't have everything figured out and they're just trying to help each other live out their faith in Jesus Christ day by day.

On a completely different note, I'm going to try double-posting here and at Blogger. If anyone has opinions on which is preferable, please let me know. You can email me (see above). Here's the link:

www.contemplativemom.com/blog/

October 24, 2004
Every few months I try to find something to attend that's for writers. Sometimes I've found the speaking engagement of a favorite author, or a writing gathering of some sort. This past weekend, I went to a small "colloquium," as they called it, that offered workshops led by Vinita Hampton Wright, Lil Copan, and Phyllis Tickle. I admire all three and it was close, so I signed up with an old college friend of mine. I realize how isolated I am as a stay-at-home mom when I get out to something like this; I'm deeply affected by hanging with like-minded people, and there's a huge part of me that needs the like-mind of writer-reader-thinkers. When those writer-reader-thinkers are also fellow believers in Jesus Christ, it's even richer.

The colloquium was held on a small college campus, so my friend and I opted to buy a meal ticket and eat at the dining commons. We are now over 15 years away from our own college experience, so it was a nostalgic choice. In our opinion, the food was great! There were far more choices than we ever had way back in '85, let's say. In this particular setting, it seemed that most students were vegans. The vegan options were set apart, separated by a wall, even. Cubes of tofu were offered on the salad bar and potato bar, along with lentils and hummus. Vegans would have been on their own to choose wisely among the sparse selections at our dining commons at our Big Ten university in the 1980s.

A part of me wanted to go back to school, take graduate writing courses, and become a vegan.

Instead, I'm back home fixing bacon and eggs for my kids for breakfast; writing a blog, a few e-mails, and a non-academic book project.

I'm grateful for an escape now and then, a chance to dream of different lives and possibilities. But I'm grateful, too, to come home to this life and the possibilities within it. A creative life works within restrictions and boundaries, using what's available to invent, build, form and experiment. That's what I must do. To keep up my writing in the context of motherhood, I must work within certain "restrictions," if you will, though I don't like the implication that kids are restrictions, so that's not the right word. It's just that the way I'm choosing to be a parent results in time limitations. Within those self-imposed boundaries, therefore, I must experiment with when and what and how I might write.

And so I shall.

October 15, 2004
So many books, so many thoughts, so little time...

1. What shall I read next, a book highly recommended by my O.T. instructor, called The Way of the Modern World?, or something by Anne Tyler? Or some Flannery O'Connor? Toni Morrison? Simone Weil? Wallace Stegner?

2. What is going to come of this election??

3. If I could spend a weekend alone, what would I do?

4. How can I keep up with the laundry?

5. Why won't my preschooler stay in bed for a nap?

October 13, 2004
My son was at a store with his father, with whom I was speaking about picking up tortilla chips (to replace those consumed by the children during tea time), and asked to speak with me. My son got on the phone and evidently didn't realize I'd actually be on the other end. He began one of his fake conversations. "Oh, hi, Mama...mmhmm...yes, I see...hmmm....okay, that's fine..."

"Um, are you there?"

"Oh! (giggling) Oh, hi Mama. I was just talking to you."

October 12, 2004
We're in the busy stage of parenting...oh, so busy.

Yesterday a friend dropped in and we tried to sit and have a cup of tea and a little conversation. We were instead interrupted numerous times: the kids wanted tea, you see, and then they wanted milk in the tea. The jug was too full to pour on their own, so I had to pour. Then they needed spoons, sugar, and come to think of it, maybe they wanted a little apple juice in a separate cup and of course by then they don't really want the tea after all, then while pushing it aside they spill the tea, then they spill the milk, the fridge is open ("Please shut the fridge all the way!"), then "Can we go out and ride bikes?" "No," since we're all inside, but then they cry, then they get over it, then they get out chips and dribble chip crumbs all over the table and floor, and then they drag out books to read--all at the same table where I'm trying to sit alone with my friend and have a conversation. Oh, then they wanted to show my friend things in another room, and then Chinese jump rope--each person wanted a turn to show off, including the visiting neighbor girl who at some point in the chaos knocked on the door and entered the fray. Jumping rope was slowed by the interruption of a preschool-aged brother who kept throwing them off, so my friend and I attempted to continue our discussion while watching kids jump back and forth through the circle of rope. Eventually, however, it got so ridiculous that we just had to stop and say good-bye.

Later that night we went out for dinner; just two grown women out for an uninterrupted meal, some coffee, even dessert.

But the best part, as you can imagine, was being able to complete a sentence. Even two or three in a row.

October 11, 2004
I'm back in business thanks to a tech-Superman, and can publish blogs the old way, by publishing on my website. Turns out I didn't need any tech-superpowers to solve the problem, however; it was a typo, a wrong number.

In the meantime, while waiting for Superman, I experimented with Blogger. It has pros and cons. Someday I may switch. For one thing, it would allow people to comment on these crazy little thought-splotches.

Guess who is back in my life? John Milton, the blind bard. My OT Survey instructor, who has inched his way up to Joshua and Judges, assigned Samson Agonistes for the Judges portion of the class. I just got it from the library a few days ago, started a few pages one night, and felt sad for Milton. He seems to have, at least at the beginning, zeroed in on the blindness...if I'm not mistaken, Milton was blind by the time he was writing it, dictating to his daughters who served as diligent scribes. He must have related to Samson's prison of darkness so much that he decided to begin at that point in the story. An interesting choice. He didn't tell it chronologically, then. I'll hold off any further comments until I've actually finished the thing. I'm writing too early, before I really know what's going on.

October 5, 2004
Lee Strobel's launched a new show called "Faith Under Fire" on PAX. Thankfully, even this cable-free family can get PAX, but it was pretty fuzzy at times. For a few seconds at the beginning we were still monkeying around with the antenna and couldn't see anything; the screen was blue! Finally we got a reasonable picture and began to watch. Lee had people talking about all kinds of topics, letting people spar over topics like theology and politics.

It airs at 10 p.m. Eastern and Pacific, 9 p.m. Central and Mountain. I read on WorldNetDaily that Tony Campolo and even Hugh Hefner will be on future episodes! I think the idea is to have a wide range of opinions presented in a fast-paced format. They certainly whet my appetite. I'll be tuning in again this coming Saturday.

One of the questions was, "Is God a Democrat or a Republican?" Sojourners, too, has had a campaign that claims "God is not a Republican...OR a Democrat." At the end of "Faith Under Fire," Lee suggested with a grin and chuckle that perhaps God is an Independent.

I may not have the interpretation right on this verse, but it reminds me of the moment when Joshua comes face-to-face with the angel of the Lord in Joshua 5. It says, "Now when Joshua was near Jericho, he looked up and saw a man standing in front of him with a drawn sword in his hand. Joshua went up to him and asked, 'Are you for us or for our enemies?'

"'Neither,' he replied, 'but as commander of the army of the LORD I have now come.'"

It seems that this angel doesn't really even get the idea of taking sides...he simply does what the LORD commands.

If only we could be more like that angel. "Are you a democrat or a republican?"

Neither. I'm just hoping to obey the Lord.

October 9, 2004
Will this ever work again??

September 28, 2004
Last night I was at someone's house for a birthday party and ate at least four potatoes' worth of chips...with dip! Talk about abandoning South Beach! But I resolved to return to the basic diet this morning, especially after my husband got his results back from a recent cholesterol reading. He had terrific numbers, so I thank and esteem the good doctor. Thanks to the South Beach Diet, our family doctor said medication won't be necessary. Cool.

September 22, 2004
Recycling thoughts: why don't we do it more?

A friend of mine is working to bring our attention locally to recycling, in hopes of making us more aware of environmental concerns in general. In a recent e-mail, she wrote:

"My friend who runs the recycling center in N-- basically told me that it's hard to get anywhere in [this state], and that until everyone starts dying of diseases from pollution, nothing will be done. He said whole subdivisions are built on landfills and that vile gases escape from underneath people's homes. Places in the river bubble up from buried filth. People won't bring in their paint cans and hazardous wastes to be disposed of "properly" because it takes time. And others just pour these things down storm drains in the streets so it goes into our rivers. New York used to dump all their garbage barges into the ocean. It all makes me nuts. I feel like I'm a lung cell who can't get the body to stop smoking."

Pause for reflection. Powerful analogy, eh?

So. Where are your old batteries? What do you plan to do with those leftover paint cans? No, I know that everyone who reads my blog is an responsible citizen and knows his/her hazardous waste disposal location. Perhaps it the neighbors we could help out? "Hey, I'm heading over to the hazardous waste disposal place next weekend. Here's a list, if you'd like to know more about where to take your old paint cans and other hazardous stuff." I'll bet my kids would like going door to door with information sheets!

We've got to start somewhere. It may not make a huge difference, but these small things surely spread an awareness. There's a self-proclaimed "crabby environmentalist" in my life keeping me honest. I like that. She keeps me on my toes. I think about how to reuse things. I go ahead and rinse out my old ricotta cheese containers (from that nasty dessert the South Beach Diet had us making), and stick them in recycling.

I use both sides of copy paper for my drafts. I even rinse out cheapie resealable plastic sandwich and storage bags before tossing them into the recycling bin...not that I'm bragging. I'm just becoming more aware.

September 17, 2004
The Teaching Company has produced a CD series called "Great Courses." They've selected some of the top professors in various disciplines from universities across the country to record their lectures for lifelong learners like myself to listen to in cars while commuting to work, or in my case, while folding laundry, unloading the dishwasher, and transporting children to soccer practices. They moan when I put one in and have offered their portable CD players for me to use so that it isn't broadcast within the entire van.

I've sampled several courses, and the best by far is Robert Greenberg's "How to Understand and Listen to Great Music" It is the best course I've listened to, and I'm only through part one! I'm waiting for part two to become available through the library. If you've ever felt intimidated by listening to concert music of the past written by Western composers, Greenberg's course is empowering and entertaining.

September 10, 2004
"We're a little bored," whispered one of the kids.

"How about you learn some origami?" I suggested. I'd come across the idea in a little book of math games, so it was tucked away in the front of my mind, over to the side, for a rainy day.

"Ori-what?"

"Origami. Japanese people fold paper into shapes. You get some paper, and I'll get the instructions. Let's see if we can figure it out together."

The first instructions were easy, so we made folds that we could puff air into and blow up to become a cube. The kids made about a dozen of these, scribbling numbers on each side of some to be dice.

They wanted more. Thank heavens for the Internet. I searched for easy folding instructions and found a swan. It was perfect. They made dozens of all sizes, learning to make smaller squares of paper so they could create tiny baby swans, all colors.

We tried a little boat and a crane, but they didn't go so well. It was beyond our beginner's minds. But it delighted them, which delighted me. I mentioned that I had a kimono in my closet, a gift from my mother-in-law. She'd brought it from her mother's apartment. My husband's grandma was a missionary in Japan for years. I can pull out several Japanese items--a beautiful doll, some plates and bowls, some writing. It could make for some interesting exploration.

September 8, 2004
We think our kids could do an emergent church thing at our house. Just set out some paper and crayons or cray-pas pastels, or watercolor...a little artistic expression right there, modeled by uninhibited worshipers. I think they could lead the way, a multi-generational experience. And a little child would lead them! Perfect.

Oh, and of course there's always the clay. Molding, working that stuff, to express ourselves. Yep, Emergent Church led by the kids. Why hasn't anyone thought of this? The third- and first-graders could inspire the preschooler, and we'd be singing and molding and coloring in no time. "Come on, Mommy! Color with me! Here's Jesus, this is you, this is me, and we're singing, see?"

I can see it, yes, I can.

September 7, 2004
If you scroll down to August 18, just a few entries south, you'll read about the magic trick, the disappearing book trick, as performed by our six year old.

Well, today, as inspired by Calvin and Hobbes, she has created a "Transmodifier" out of a cardboard box. She cut a perfectly lovely arrow out of cardboard, asked me to poke a hole in it so she could insert a brass fastener, the kind we used to make homemade clocks in elementary school math class. She attached the arrow to the top of the box, er, the Transmodifier, that is, and wrote various creatures in a circle. The arrow might land on, say, "tiger," or "parrot." Whatever she puts into the box turns into the item that the arrow pointed at. Using Beanie Babies for her experiment, she placed one inside, spun the arrow, and pulled out the modified creature accordingly. "Look, it's now a parrot! This is tiger, but he's a parrot, see? He's transmodified!" And on it went for much of the afternoon.

Then she came up to me, and this is the second time she's made this wishful comment, "Wouldn't it be neat if I asked Santa to bring me a magic kit for Christmas, and I really could transmodify things?"

"I've told you before, the magic kits show you tricks that look like you've changed things, but you haven't. It's not real magic."

"I know," she says, still smiling. "But if I could, I'd turn myself into a bluebird, so I could fly. And then I'd turn a bunch of pebbles into worms so they'd be right where I need them to eat during the day, on top of the box. Wouldn't that be a good idea?"

An older sister had been listening in. She turned to me, "What would you turn something into, if you could?"

It's an interesting question. What would I want to turn myself into? What would I like to turn something else into, for a day, perhaps, or just a few hours?

September 3, 2004
I'm on Phase 2 of the South Beach Diet. Oh, please, stop calculating the days. Yes, I know, it's a few days short of the two weeks, but I'm sick of this stupid diet. They said I'd stop craving carbs within two days, but that's a joke. I do. It's not like I want a bag of potato chips or something. I just want some oatmeal. Is that so bad? So I'm moving on to Phase 2 and inviting a few healthy carbs into my life. Maybe a little fruit, too. Tonight my dear spouse has to go out and buy a new mailbox (the door is hanging from one bolt that he'd already used to rig it up the last time it fell apart). I think I'll ask him to pick up some scales while at Lowe's. I hate to have scales around, micromanaging my weight loss. To remedy that, he suggested we stick it up on a shelf so that it's a hassle to pull down. If we have some scales accessible, I can confirm if I've actually lost anything. Based on what I see when I stand in front of the mirror, well, there's just no change. So I'm going to happily eat my bowl of oatmeal tomorrow morning and move on.

August 31, 2004
I'm on the South Beach Diet. I know, I know. Stop laughing at me. We've already established that I'm anti-trend, but if you actually read the article I directed you to, you'll recall that South Beach has been out too long to be trendy anymore. So I'm okay. I'm in the post-trend-phase of its lifespan, and only just read it while in South Carolina visiting my uncle. The cover had a little star-shaped notation, "Lose Belly Fat First!" and I thought, "I've got to read this thing!" Having weighed myself on my uncle's scales (we don't own any), I was appalled. Aghast. "Lose Belly Fat First!" sounded like just the ticket, especially since I'd gorged myself on shrimp the night before while devouring my cousins "Frogmore Stew."

Sidebar: Frogmore Stew is known to non-locals as "Low Country Boil." There are many ways to prepare it, but the main ingredients are shrimp, smoked sausage and corn on the cob. It's not really a stew. I ate a shameful quantity of shrimp.

So, South Beach Diet. Today is the start of Week 2 of Phase 1.

I miss bread.

I miss oatmeal.

I miss sweet snacks and corn and a little sugar in my tea.

It's not that I miss white bread. I'd given that up years ago. I miss really thick, grainy, homemade bread with a light bit of butter on it. Maybe a bit of jam. Oh, man, I've got to stop writing about it.

I miss oatmeal in the morning, or cereal. And I'm not talking about Fruit Loops or Lucky Charms. Those aren't my thing. I like healthy cereals and I miss eating them.

And I miss Trader Joe's chocolate covered raspberry sticks. Oh dear, those are trouble. I can't even have those in the house.

Fortunately, in a week I can have oatmeal and healthy cereal again. I can have fruit again, though I haven't missed that as much as I thought I would. I can have my wholesome homemade bread again, too, just not half a loaf.

In the meantime, I'm eating protein and vegetables, mostly. And that crazy little ricotta cheese dessert they invented, supposedly to satisfy one's sweet tooth. But let me tell you, it looks pretty gross and doesn't compare with the desserts I prefer. Nice try. And Jell-O? I like it, but it isn't dessert.

So I suffer a little, in hopes of losing some belly fat. Frankly, I don't see a marked difference yet, this first week. We'll see what happens in another week's time.

I have to watch the kids wolf down homemade macaroni and cheese while I nibble on a salad tonight.

August 28, 2004
What a happy birthday boy we have!

We took him shopping at Target yesterday. At the end of an aisle was a wall of Matchbox vehicles. He started shouting and pointing, "That one! That one! No, no, not that one. THAT one!" So we began to pull them off per his precise instructions and hand them to him. He would gaze at each one through the plastic cover, enthralled. This was at least a ten-to-fifteen-minute process, picking and choosing, evaluating, putting some back and getting others, then convincing him to let us place them in the back of the cart and that maybe he'd get them as surprises at his party. He picked out some helicopters, too, and some military vehicles. It was quite a masculine outing. I'd never spent that much time in those aisles ever before.

One of his sisters wrapped each one of the cars, so he'd have a lot of presents to unwrap at the party. Believe it or not, he didn't rip into them. Instead, he carefully unwrapped each one, grinning as the paper started to reveal the packaging. Then he'd exclaim, "Wow! I LOVE it!" delighting and "wow-ing" over it, elated. He'd unwrap another, as if he didn't know what it would be, then: "OH! Oh! I LIKE this one!!" It was getting ridiculously Pollyannalike, but so charming.

His thrill over every dinky gift prompted my sister-in-law to lean over during the hubbub and suggest, "Okay, tell the truth. These are the first presents you've ever bought him, aren't they!" What kid could sustain ongoing astonishment over ten individually wrapped 94-cent cars? One who truly only wanted a few 94-cent cars, I guess.

Oh, that we were all so easily satisfied, let alone ecstatic!

August 18, 2004
I just started the new novel that I picked up from the library. I'm too nervous to recommend it, it's so...so...irreverent! If someone is simply bursting with curiosity, they can contact me by e-mail and I'll tell them the titles and author.

In the meantime, I managed to put together a meal for a group of friends last night, which as those who know me well, is not my forte. It came off well, and we had a great evening eating on the porch by candlelight. Certain small people in my family had some final entertainment, singing "We are the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything," from Veggie Tales. And a certain person who is crazy about Scotch tape did a little magic show.

"I can make a book...disappear!" she announced.

"Oh, really? Could you do that for us," I asked.

"Yes. Close your eyes," she instructed. Everyone obediently did so. "Now," she continued, as she put the book behind her back, under her shiny pink cape, "Say, 'Make the book disappear.'"

"Make the book disappear," we chanted.

"Open your eyes." We did, and it's true--the book was nowhere to be seen.

"Okay, now close your eyes. Say, 'Make the book reappear!'"

"Make the book reappear."

"Open your eyes!"

And darned if that book wasn't in front of her, in her hand, for all to see!

Spectacular showmanship. The cape was a great touch, as was the long "magic" stick she had picked up in the yard.

August 15, 2004
I just came up with two book suggestions that I'm afraid I may find irresistible. I'm going to track them down at the library. I can't go recommending them until I know what they're like, so I'll have to leave you in suspense. The only clue I shall leave you with is that I read a book by this author years ago and it was witty and irreverent. Today I just learned that he wrote two sequels that I was unaware existed until this moment.

In addition to this surprise novel I'm going to look for, I'm pondering what Great Course on CD I might tackle. I began the World Philosophy course. I may have to get there and decide on the spot whether to go with History, Philosophy or something completely different.

My littlest one, about three years old, was on the kitchen floor pl