So … here I am still wrapped up in my afghan. I’ve moved slightly. Now I’m in the recliner. This was where I spent a good deal of last night in a vain attempt to sleep. I know I’d be getting better if I could just get a good night’s sleep. But this has been a lifelong battle with me. I can still hear the echos of my mother’s frustration when I was child and my brothers and I were sick. She’d say, of LightBrother1, to LightBrother2 and I, “Look he sleeps and then he gets better in just a day or two. You two, you lie around and you are sick, but you won’t sleep and stay sick for days and days. Why?” We’d look at her in bewilderment. What did she mean by that? How did we know why we couldn’t sleep? It’s not like we liked being sick. She knew that too. As a mother myself, I can empathize with the weariness of knowing what your child needs and them not engaging it. I’m so jealous of people who can sleep.
I’ve become a daytime television watcher. That’s the level of boredom I’m at. The books I’d like to read are too heavy for my mucus-logged brain. Sewing is right out. I tried that the other day and … well … unsewing is just frustrating and unproductive, at best.
I watched ER this morning. I’ve never watched ER on it’s regular night and time (i.e. on NBC). I’ve only ever watched the syndication on TNT and that with no regularity at all. Just often enough to get a certain sense of some of the major players. This morning’s episode was mainly about Dr. Weaver. Dr. Weaver had apparently revealed that she is a lesbian at some point in the past. In this episode, she is reunited with her birthmother who is a conservative Christian. She revealed her sexual orientation to her birthmother during the episode and the mother’s reaction was as one would anticipate and understated at the same time. It wasn’t that she reacted negatively (which she did, but without animosity), but that she attempted to blame herself for giving Dr. Weaver up for adoption. It was very interesting to see the clash of cultures, although that sounds rather more bombastic than what was played out.
I was fascinated by Dr. Weaver’s reaction. She revealed that she had at one time had a flourishing faith. Perhaps she still did, but felt completely rejected by the Church and it’s people who were supposedly her family. The closing scene was particularly poignant. Dr. Weaver asked her birthmother (Helen) if Helen would be able to accept her as she was. Helen responded by saying that of course she would love Kerry always. Dr. Weaver just looked back at her and said, “I don’t want your love without your acceptance.”
That line got me thinking. How do we love others? How do we love people who do things we don’t agree with? Who’s very lives are an affront to some part of us that we hold dear? What is love and how do we express it? Indeed, how can we claim to fully love someone if we don’t accept the very nature of who they are?
A good friend of our has suggested in the past that our family should have various superpowers to go with our names. I like that idea. We haven’t yet acquired these superpowers. But I think that one of the powers that LightGirl has is that of silliness and giddiness. In her role as keeper of humor in our home she sent me a link to this. It’s hilarious and makes you laugh even when you think you have nothing to laugh for. So … watch and giggle and share in some of LightGirl’s transcendent giddiness.
Given my addiction during the 2006 Winter Olympics this is pretty funny:
Today was the first day of school for most children in our neck of the woods. But we’ve already gotten a week under our belt. So we took advantage of the calm and had a field trip. It was a perfect day for a visit to the Smithsonian. We went to the Museum of Natural History to see the exhibit celebrating the Bicentennial of the Lewis & Clark expedition out west before it closes next Monday. Of course, field trips are always more fun with friends, so we took my friend SizzlingEwe and her children, the 3BlazingLambs, and our ever present companion, +OneFriend.
The very best day of any day in the year to visit the Smithsonian is the day after Labor Day. We had the museum virtually to ourselves. There were other visitors to be sure. But parking was freely had (not free, but easily gotten), exhibits were easily seen, there were no lines for anything. We had a ball. The Lewis and Clark exhibit was enlightening. I learned quite a bit about Thomas Jefferson as well as gaining insight into the early years of our country.
After lunch the children asked to see the dinosaur exhibit. We had to pull them away from the Mammal exhibit by telling them they had to choose because time was running out. They chose the Dinosaurs. Their joy and anticipation was palpable as we all danced into the exhibit hall. They were immediately drawn to the large beasts and we imagined making one leg bone into a bed for a BlazingLamb. She declared it too uncomfortable, so we moved on. We imagined running into a sauropod in real life and had delicious shivers of fear. Then we got to the king of the beasts … tyrannosaurus rex. Ohhh, he had huge teeth. Enormous teeth. We were glad he doesn’t roam the world today. But then one of the smallest BlazingLambs asked, “What’s that bone?” and pointed to a large bone that looked somewhat like a chicken’s breast bone hanging down between the tyrannosaur’s legs. LightBoy, passing by, said, “Oh … that’s the weiner bone.” And off they all went to the next dinosaur, leaving SizzlingEwe and I gasping for breath as we tried not to laugh out loud. Hmmmm, I guess dinosaur anatomy might figure prominently in our science curriculum this year.
Hmmm … how to dig oneself out of the hole one dug with the shovel of impertinence and the hoe of whimsy. Should one? Perhaps the hole exists only in the mind of the digger.
And then, again, I made a few rather extreme statements regarding the Bible in an earlier post and I’m feeling a bit rueful about it. I was feeling my oats. Rather like a yearling in the spring oats as it were; playful, silly and without regard for any consequences. And, well, this is my blog. I can be playful, silly and not have regard for the consequences should I so choose. Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead. However, I would probably say that what I wrote earlier was rather, um, skeletal and I’d like to flesh it out a little.
So, thanks to Brother Maynard, I have been thinking a bit about the different translations of the Bible and how I use them, their relative importance and what I think about them. One of the things I think is that most folks are too attached to their particular translation. This probably makes me a heretic of some sort or other. I think that one of the best things since sliced bread is Bible Gateway. You can read the Bible in all the different translations and just about any language too; even Swahili (I think). I love being able to compare and contrast translations to ferret out meaning. I’m not choosy when it comes to translations. For myself (when I use an actual hard copy version of the Bible), I use a side-by-side that has The Message by Eugene Peterson on one page and the NASB on the facing page. We have all versions here in the house, from King James (which I insisted on early in my faith walk because I loved the arcane language) the the New Living Bible (from LightHusband’s childhood. We have a Gideon’s (inadvertently brought home from a hotel once), a couple of NIV’s, and everything in between. I even picked up a NKJV from some people giving them away on the street when we were on vacation this summer. LightHusband said I was stealing. I maintained they were giving them away with no strings attached. I wanted it to look some things up and sometimes you just want to hold the hard copy in your hands to do that.
Which brings me to my next point. It is good to have a hard copy to read. I believe the Bible is meant to be ingested in large chunks; in chapters or books at a time. Don’t read little bits. Get the big picture. It’s difficult to do that on a computer screen. Well, it’s difficult for me to do that on a computer screen. When I’m reading a book for the sake of reading I prefer to have the hard copy in my hands. It is more real for some reason. I like to remember that it is, after all, a story; the story of God’s interaction with His creation. It’s how She has chosen to record that interaction. It is limited by our limitations. He is God and we are human. So there are some things that remain mysterious and inexplicable. It is, when all is said and done, a leap of faith, not reason.
I’m not too picky about which version I read. Although I no longer care to do the work involved to pick my way through the briars of the King James. I’m not picky about which version anyone reads. I think the important thing is that in the reading one finds their way towards God. I’m not particular about the version because, for instance the Gospels are a translation of stories that were originally spoken in Aramaic, written down in Greek, and the originals were lost. What now exists are about a 5th or 6th generation codex translated from Aramaic to Greek to Latin to English. Or … Greek to English. This doesn’t sound as if it should cause too many problems. And, yet, it does. I’ve run smack into the issues it causes. The Greeks have several different words they use for “head.” In English there is only one. This difference is the primary reason that women have been kept out of ministry for 2,000 years. For another great example please read this wonderful, short post on the issues caused when something gets lost in translation.
I want to apologize for being so impertinent about a pillar of the faith in my earlier post. I was being fairly intentional about it because I think that recently too many people behave as if God is bound up within the pages of their particular translation. That She will be contained within a book, and can be completely known by ferreting out codes held in Scripture. They have forgotten the bigness and majesty of the universe and worry instead about jots and tittles. Which version of the Bible is proper, whether or not women preach, who is and is not allowed in the church or to lead, what foods to eat, what clothes to wear; all fall under the heading of grace. They are all “things doubful.” We cannot know for certain the mind of God. We must grant each other the charity that we wish for ourselves.
Soooo … ya know those silly Blogthings questionnaires? I found one called “What’s Your Beer Personality?” I took it just for kicks and giggles.
As it turns out the giggles are on me!! Ah, well … turn about is fair play.
HT to Brother Maynard … ’twas his post on translations of the Bible which began my convoluted path.
I have to say at the outset I’m not particularly particular about which Bible translation anyone uses. Long ago I came to the conclusion that if indeed I do believe that God is capable of creating the entire universe, then it’s just possible that S/He might not necessarily confine Herself to the pages of any one particular translation of a fifth generation copy of the transcription of the oral traditions of generations of stories written down in the non-native tongue. That God might just be capable of revealing Himself through more than one translation; indeed, She might use other books too. So I follow the suggestion of Thomas aKempis: “In things essential, unity; in doubtful, liberty; in all things, charity.â€
I do, however, have a strong suggestion to make to the folks who are participating in the conversation known as the Emerging Church. Please, o please, extend your horizons past Guiness! Guiness is the Budwieser of stouts. It is a crass commercially over-produced beer that out-grew itself in the late ’80s. There are so very many good, fine stouts out there and ales too. If it takes a chick to raise this issue, then raise it I will.
I think my favorite stout is Samuel Smith’s Oatmeal Stout, although Young’s Double Chocolate is too close a second to call. I have used Young’s in my venison chili with fine results. They are both deep, rich and absorb light when you slowly pour them into a glass. They are best served luke warm (of course).
I have to say that my favorite beer category is India Pale Ales. I love them … all of them. If you ever get to Vermont, or a gourmet beer establishment be sure to try Magic Hat’s #9. It not only has that great citrus tang, but also has the zing of apricot for a fun surprise. Also from Vermont, Long Trail Brewery’s unfiltered India Pale Ale is fabulous. It fills your mouth and sticks to your ribs. Dominion Brewery here in Virginia has a Pale Ale with a fine grapefruit bite.
Here’s an ale that’s almost a stout and has been a favorite of mine for more than 20 years — Old Peculier. It’s a British beer and wonderful to behold. It’s rich and full and has a lot of texture. I discovered this ale during my misspent youth. A favorite haunt of LightHusband’s and mine was The BrickSkeller off of Dupont Circle in DC. They serve several hundred different kinds of beers. On our first date, LightHusband (in a vain effort to impress me) ordered a bottle of beer from Scotland which had been numbered by hand with a ballpoint pen!
The larger point I’d like to make here is this. From my vantage point, it seems that a strong value being expressed by the emerging conversation goes something along the lines of “think globally, act locally.” That is that while we see the larger issues and problems in the world, we see the solutions beginning with us and with our immediate communities. That we are able to influence and establish change there within our local circles. So, why, I have to wonder, are we not extending this argument to beer? Those engaging in the emerging conversation need to find their local microbrewery or pub and imbibe! Stop feeding the corporate, commercial machine. Raise a glass to your brother, the brewer and support him (or her)! For those of you across “the pond,” find the CAMRA pubs and support them. And, for heaven’s sake, expand your hoppy horizons. There’s a great big beery world out there … explore it!
It’s the last Sunday of the month. Ordinarily we’d be sleeping in and preparing for some sort of community service. My church sets aside the last Sunday of each month to reach out to our neighbors in service. It’s the pouring out of our gifts and talents in acts of service to those with less than we have. We’ve been doing this for about 2 years now. At first we were fairly rigid about doing it on Sunday. Then we eased up on the day. Now we’ve even eased up on the week. So last weekend (while we were still on vacation) the church helped a single mom move. So, today is a true Sabbath for me. There is no worship service to organize or teach in, and no service worship to participate in. I will rest. I will sew. Hooray!
Yesterday I attended the next to last meeting of the quilt guild board. Wait, that doesn’t sound right. It’s not the next last meeting. It is the next to last meeting that I am required to attend. I’ve been on the board for quite a long time now. Since 2000 I think … I can’t honestly remember. I was President of the guild in 2002. Since then I’ve been the editor of the newsletter, webmistress, I’m organizing the Block-of-the-Month activity for the second time now. Now I’m the custodian of the community service stash and my friend, SizzlingEwe, and I put together kits to make quilts for our community service project. LightHusband has been not-so-subtly suggesting that it’s time to let others in the guild step forward and let their talents shine, reluctant tho they may be. So it was a pleasant change of pace yesterday to hear my quilting sisters echo his refrain as they politely and firmly encouraged me to follow my own muse in the coming year. It’s time, they said, to take a rest. To have a Sabbath.
Many of them will be doing the same. We have all served the guild together for quite some time now. We began as quilters sharing tips and techniques. We have become friends sharing our lives together. We have children at different stages in their lives; one is about to become an untimely grandmother, another is coping with guiding her two teens through the morass of an out-of-control youth ministry, a third has one in college and one about to graduate from high school and her in-laws living with her, a fourth has both children gone and is recently retired from her job of 20+ years, and so on. We struggle together, laugh together, grieve together, cry together, and stitch our lives back together when they have become unraveled. We travel to quilt shows, eat meals, fondle fabric and memories, and through it all remember the timely advice of many quilters gone before us, “If it can pass the ‘man on the galloping horse’ test, we don’t need to worry about it.” This means any flaw, blemish or error that cannot be seen by a man on a galloping horse, is too small to worry about. I think I like that standard.
We’re home again. Getting settled back in. I set a new land speed record for getting vacation laundry washed, dryed, folded and put away … under 24 hours. This has never happened before in our married history. As LightHusband says, “Usually they (the dirty vacation clothes) have to marinate for a week or so, before we’re ready to wash them.” There is something about doing the vacation laundry that truly changes the mental space I’m in.
I’ve spent a good portion of the week purging the schoolroom. I’ve removed a lot of schoolwork from previous years that can be archived. I’ve stored a lot of books (especially for history) that we’ll use when we get to those eras again. We deconstructed the way we use the space in the schoolroom (which is actually the diningroom). We tried to figure out a way to get desks for each of the LightChildren. But then we’d have to get rid of the table, and it serves a number of purposes other than school. It’s the “kids” table when we have friends over for dinner. I use it for extra sewing space and cutting space for my quilting. The LightChildren use it for crafts and other projects. So, in the end, we kept the table. But we did decide to get some new bookshelves and a new supply cabinet.
I knew just the bookshelves I wanted. These — which could be found at Target. I then spent several fruitless hours pouring through websites trying to find a supply cabinet that didn’t look like one of those horrible metal closets that you find in the back behind the office manager’s desk. The only thing I found was a hutch that came under the heading of bathroom furniture and I was afraid I’d never get past that. Especially after LightHusband took one look at it and said, “Hey, that would look good in our bathroom.” Back to Google after that comment; but our search was in vain.
Nonetheless, we scheduled a trip to Target to purchase the bookshelves and take whirl through the furniture and organizing departments to see what they had, up close and personal. Sometimes you miss things when you’re on-line. Lo and behold, we had missed something! There, in the closets section, was our grail!! Imagine these pieces with the door portion on top (it has shelves behind the doors) and paper supplies and other flat products on the sliding shelves of the base unit. I’m in heaven. We even got metal baskets to put on the shelves behind the doors. Organization, here we come!! Of course, it came in 2 very heavy boxes and took LightHusband 4 hours to put it together. But it’s a thing of beauty awaiting our stuff. And the schoolroom is ready for our school adventures to begin.
But here’s the funny thing that happened at Target. Just as we were getting in line to check out, I remembered that I wanted to get special 3-ring binders for each of the LightChildren and I for a project we’re doing. So I left LightHusband to check out with the furniture and took LightBoy off in search of special fun binders. In due course we found them. We were then entitled to check out in the “Express Line,” with our 3 items or less. There was an older gentleman two people in front of us with a single 1-subject spiral bound notebook that he was purchasing. He already had his dollar bill out to pay for it. The cashier waved it over the laser beam, rang it up, turned to the gentleman and said, “That will be ….. ten cents!” The sudden sucking sound was audible as all of our heads whipped around. How did we all come to be in a penny candy store in the midst of a SuperTarget in MegaLand? TEN CENTS??? I cannot remember the last time I’d heard that as the sum total of a bill at a store. Even the gentleman was dumbfounded. He fumbled for a moment, then said, “Wait, I have a dime!”
A dime. He paid for his total purchase with a dime. Even LightBoy was astonished.
The non-plussed cashier just kept telling us to go get spiral bound notebooks while they were on sale; we really shouldn’t miss it.
From the RevGals … Friday Five Meme
My late mother-in-law thought of September as the “real†New Year because of the number of programs and classes starting. By Labor Day, school is back in session for most of us in the U.S., although there is great variation by region (my children don’t return until Sept. 7th!). To mark this, we bring you the Back to School Friday Five.
Aside … I think this is very appropriate for me this week as I’ve spent the week purging our school room of old books and papers and getting it ready for our new year to begin next week. I’ve got a couple more hours to put in over the weekend and all will be ready for LightGirl and LightBoy on Monday morning (imagine dreary organ music here)!!!
1. What is your earliest memory of school?
I went to what used to be referred to as nursery school. Now it’s called pre-school. I think I went a couple of mornings or afternoons a week. I remember that we had nap time. After nap time was snacks and it was highly sought after to be chosen to be the snack or drink assistant. My best memory of that school tho was that in the playground there was an old car that had had the tires and windows removed. We would swarm on the car and “go on trips.” We were all good about taking turns “driving.” Kids rode on the roof and on the hood and everywhere. Playing on that car was the most fun ever.
2. Who was a favorite teacher in your early education?
My first and second grade teacher, Mrs. Metakos. I thought she was beautiful, smart and wonderful.
3. What do you remember about school “back then†that is different from what you know about schools now?
The way they teach children to read was much different. I learned using phonics (using the infamous “Dick & Jane” books). Now they teach using whole language or some combination of the two (and can use just about anything!).
4. Did you have to memorize in school? If so, share a poem or song you learned.
I think I did. But I don’t remember … isn’t that terrible??
5. Did you ever get in trouble at school? Were there any embarrassing moments you can share?
The only time I ever got into trouble was for something I didn’t actually do, it was for something I was pretending to do. I went to school in a very old 2 room school house with horsehair plaster on the walls. Someone was mysteriously chipping out a large hole in the plaster at the top of the stairs when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. One day I was standing in line waiting to go outside for something and I turned to my friend, picked a tiny piece of plaster out and said, “I bet this is how that guy is getting away with it,” and a teacher saw me!! I don’t remember my punishment … I just remember the injustice of it all. And that no one would believe that I was NOT the perpetrator.
