This was too fun to pass up … HT to Brother Maynard

You are a Black Coffee

At your best, you are: low maintenance, friendly, and adaptable At your worst, you are: cheap and angsty You drink coffee when: you can get your hands on it Your caffeine addiction level: high

So yesterday started innocently enough, but several days ago. It began with a request from LightBoy for waffles. He asked, “Mom, can you make waffles for breakfast tomorrow?” But that particular tomorrow was the day we were going to an amusement park for the day. So the answer had to be, “No. Not tomorrow, but I will make them one morning this weekend.” However, our waffle iron has become too small for our family. It was fine for LightHusband and I when I bought it 17 years ago. It was even fine when the LightChildren were small. But now, in order to make enough waffles for all of us, I have to cook for several hours. And … that’s just not right.

We began with a search on the internet; where all good searches begin. And we found:
on the Bed Bath andBeyond website. Aha! One of those stores is right across town. And, there is a sporting goods store next door where LightGirl can get the remaining hockey equipment she needs for her skating lessons. Two birds, one stone. Couldn’t be better.

We piled into our trusty steed, gathered some sustenance, and off we went. We knew what we wanted, so first we poked through a couple of other interesting places in the store and managed to fill our cart with several other items that we could NOT live without. Then proceeded to the area with the waffle irons. Alas, it was NOT there. We searched high. We searched low. We questioned employees. It was not there. So we asked about other stores in the area. No … it is not in any stores in the area. “But we can have it in for you in two weeks!” “That will not help,” said I in my most cheerful voice, “I promised my son waffles tomorrow morning.” We saw the grail signal above this castle, I thought to myself, and it is not here.

We purchased our basket full of items we hadn’t known we needed til we walked through the door. I suppose it’s alright to replace your trash can once every ten years … among other things. We went to the sporting goods store and purchased hockey equipment for LightGirl and baseball glove and bat for LightBoy. So far the bat has variously been a gun, a cannon, a light saber and a guitar. I don’t think it’s been used as a bat just yet. I watched this morning as our deck became a star fighter and LightBoy took on legions that surrounded him using the bat as various weapons.

We next pursued our quest for the holy waffle maker of Calacirian.
We did not have coconuts or we would have clacked them together to relieve the boredom. According to the LightChildren this was the very worst sort of torture they would have endured. We had never asked quite so much of them. Of course, it was all in the name of waffles the next morning. And eventually their whining began to take on a new tone.

Through town after town and store upon mall our quest did not cease. We encountered knights, and townspeople, and magicians and silly Frenchmen, and worst of all, bad parkinglot drivers!

Then we walked and we walked until finally … there … in a store I vowed to never shop in again (because of repeated extremely poor customer service 20 years ago), there it was … gleaming … glowing … humming. I’m pretty sure we all heard organ music. We, knights, gathered round and said in chorus, “It’s HERE!” to the astonishment of the sales girl who had just wandered up. We reached out to touch it. And she kindly pointed out that there was one in a box for us on the floor. Best of all … the grail … was on sale!!

It’s funny the plans you make for yourself and then your life gets in the way. That’s what I’ve been thinking about today. It all started at a meeting the other night. I vowed once again that I will not end up “… in a tent in Kenya.” But I’ve learned to make that vow with my fingers crossed, because those are the vows that get me in trouble.

I remember all the plans I had to be “when I grow up.” At some point I wanted to “be” a nurse, because my favorite “auntie” was a nurse. I thought that the most wonderful people grew up to be nurses. That was when I was about 5 and 6. Then when I was in junior high I decided to be an oceanographer. But I think this had more to do with my infatuation with Cape Cod and the fact that I would be able to work out of Woods Hole, than any true desire to be an oceanographer. I’m sure I cycled through a couple of other things. At some point my mother insisted I take a typing class, which I indignantly resisted, “because I’m NEVER going to be a SECRETARY.” Words I ate in humility several years later. Humility causes indigestion I discovered. Or maybe it relieves it. When I went to college I wanted to be a physical anthropologist and discover the “missing link.” But I took my college’s only physical anthropology class my first semester freshman year, so …. that was sort of out. Next I wanted to go into International Law, but by the time I graduated with my bachelor’s degree all I really knew was that I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up.

So I started working. The other thing I knew was that I had no plans to be a wife and mother. That was never on my radar screen.

At …

All.

Ever.

I was going to have a career in foreign affairs. That had no place for a family. A husband … perhaps. But no children. Besides … I’m not the maternal type.

But I never settled in a job and I did find a husband. Then I went to graduate school. And I did find a faith and a church. It’s funny the curveballs that you get thrown when you’re not looking. Suddenly you look around and wonder who’s life this is. I mean I know this **is** my life … it’s just not the life I had planned. I like this life, I just wonder where this life came from. I wonder how it happened when I wasn’t looking. It sometimes feels like that line from “Once In A Lifetime” by Talking Heads: “That’s not my beautiful house … that’s not my beautiful wife”

How did I, the daughter of a public school teacher and the chairman of the schoolboard and holder of 40+ graduate credits in Secondary Education, end up homeschooling my children? How did I get here? Does anyone else wonder this? I know it’s the result of thousands of small and large decisions made, some on the fly and some as the result of hours of prayer and pondering. But it feels rather capricious.

And … I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. But I’ve narrowed it down a little. I’m considering seminary. Or quilting.

It occurred to me the other day that Jesus was Jewish. Which shouldn’t have come as such great surprise. In fact, it wasn’t … it came as more of a “Duh” moment. So, I’ve been reading a few books that bridge the divide between Judaism and Christianity. One of them has proved particularly fascinating, The Parables: Jewish Tradition, Christian Interpretation, by Brad H. Young.

He begins with a description of Jewish haggadah, or what we might more easily recognize as a fable; a story with a moral point. There are some finer points to it, because most haggadah are developed to inspire points of the Torah, or the like. But for my purposes here, this description will be enough. I liked this haggadah found on page 9 of the book and thought I’d share it with all of you. Here is some lead-in that most Jewish listeners would know and then the haggadah follows:

“A fine example of haggadah is found in the sstory of Rabbi Eleazer’s encounter with the exceedingly ugly man. Unlike the exceedingly ugly man, who probably had labored menially throughout the day, R. Eleazer had the privilege of devoting himself entriely to the study of Torah. His master was R. Meir, and R. Eleazer and his beloved teacher had spent the day learning the deeper things of God.

On one occasion Rabbi Eleazer son of Rabbi Simeon was coming from Migdal Gedor, from the house of his teacher. He was riding leisurely on his donkey by the riverside and was feeling happy and elated because he had studied much Torah. There he chanced to meet an exceedingly ugly man who greeted him, “Peace be upon you, rabbi.” He, however, did not return his greeting but instead said to him, “Raca [‘Empty one’ or ‘Good for nothing’] how ugly you are! Is everyone in your town as ugly as you are?” The man replied: “I do not know, but go and tell the craftsman who made me, ‘How ugly is the vessel which you have made.'” When R. Eleazer realized that he had sinned he dismounted from the donkey and prostrated himself before the man and to him, “I submit myself to you, forgive me!”

R. Eleazer could not hold his tongue. When he encountered the exceedingly ugly man, all he could think about was that ugliness. When he made his stinging insult, he failed to see each person as created in the image of God.”

Once upon a time there was a group of people who lived in the middle of a middle sized city. This group of people became friends. Very good friends. They shared meals. They shared their stuff. They laughed together. They cried together. They built things together. They saved things together. They pulled each other out of quick sand.

Some places in the city weren’t terribly safe. So these friends accompanied each other through the dangerous spots. They helped each other over wobbly bridges. Sometimes they even had to carry one another through hard times.

As they did these things, they came to the attention of others who lived around them. Those outsiders stopped what they were doing and watched these friends care for one another, laugh together, talk together, and share life together. Gradually, oh so gradually, these outsiders started to make themselves known to the group. The outsiders liked what they saw and wanted to be part of this group. They began to talk to people in the group. Some of them were known to individuals in the group and others were complete strangers to all.

This was when things began to get difficult. The outsiders only saw some of the conversations and some of the activity. They didn’t get to see it all. The group was only known to them in a certain dimension. They believed they knew the group, but the reality was more like an iceberg. Still they wanted to be part of it and so the group began to welcome them. And more and more they began to participate in the conversation.

The day came, however, that an outsider took what was percieved as “too much” ownership of one of the group members. On another day, another outsider stepped out of line with their sense of humor. Unknowingly, unwittingly, the outsiders had transgressed the unwritten rules of the group. And they were punished quite severely for their crimes. Because, as we all know, ignorance of the law is no excuse.

So … my question for today is … would you say that this group has a Christian ethic of love and grace or not?

Ahhh … another sigh of relief. Another milestone passed, another year down.

Virginia homeschooling statute requires that I show “evidence of educational progress” each year to my local school board. There a number of methods that I may choose to do this. I choose to have an outside evaluator come in and interview the LightChildren and look over their work and curriculum and let me know how they’re doing (and by extension how I’m doing).

We had our evaluation this evening. As usual, I was very nervous about this. I’m always nervous about this. But this year was worse than usual. There’s Smaug grinning at me in the background (of course) and then, well, we haven’t been as diligent about school this year as usual. There have been good reasons … but …

They passed … with their usual flying colors!! There is still work to be done. LightGirl needs to finish her math and grammar courses. LightBoy needs to finish his math course. We’ll do some science and history through the summer just for fun. But now it’s on to the next grade and we can relax a bit for a while.

And plan and dream about next year. The new curriculum catalogs have begun to arrive … complete with all the hopes and dreams that any good teacher could have.

The movie is released today. Are you breathless?

I’m not. The reviews have been not so wonderful. I read the book a number of years ago and found the premise intriguing. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve heard of this book and now the movie. I’m going to spoil it here, so don’t read any further if you have neither read the book nor seen the movie and don’t care to have it spoiled for you.

The premise of the book is that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene and they had a son. I can’t remember if the son was born before or after the crucifixion. It doesn’t matter. Mary M. and the son were carted away to Gaul (France) and hidden there to protect them after the crucifixion. The Knights Templar were created to protect the son and his descendents. This bloodline became the Holy Grail of Arthurian legend.

This is the bit that has so many Christian in such an uproar. A friend (unaware of the upcoming movie release) recently said, “What’s with all the DaVinci Code stuff again? I thought we put that to bed.” We told her about the movie. So now everyone is having “discussions” and Sunday School classes and debates and trying to be open and all sorts of hoo-haw about this all over again. But it’s really a tempest in a teacup.

Here are the two main points … that most Christians miss.

First, being married and having a child in no way changes Christ’s divinity. It doesn’t stop him from having been crucified and rising from the dead. Those possibilities don’t really change anything about him. He never made any claims about being a virgin, only about being fully human and fully God.

Second, IF there were any descendents of Jesus they did nothing. At this point in history (2000 years later) their “blood” has been so thinned as to be non-existant.

Third, Jesus’ main points had nothing to do with what this book is about. And people who are Christians ought to know that. The DaVinci Code is titillating reading and fun international intrigue, but people who take their faith seriously cannot possibly be frightened or put off by it. After all, it’s just fiction.

UPDATE: Real Live Preacher has some of the best thoughts I’ve read yet about the whole mess. Here’s a bit to whet your whistle: Anyone who paid attention in seminary has heard of these extra-biblical sources and knows that Mr. Brown’s book is an adventure story and not a biblical or historical treatise. The Da Vinci Code has roughly the same relationship to biblical and church history that James Bond has to the world of secret agents. And hey, what’s wrong with that? It’s a good read. Like a Clancy novel. (May 24, 2006)

And so it has come to pass that Smaug has been vanquished. I stood to do battle with him and when I looked he was a small Hispanic lady in a pink blouse with bright pink fingernails. She was a government worker at a certain agency that I needed to get through. I faced her with all my weapons drawn, a smile, a contrite heart, and downcast eyes. I was properly concerned for my oversight and the lack of concern of others for her dearly beloved agency. These became the best weapons of all. Smaug made a reverse turn again this morning as I had one more agency to visit, but I stared him down once again. This time it just took one hard look for him to turn tail and run into his corner.

I know he’ll keep coming back. But I’ve learned some things about him and how to keep him penned. I’ve learned some things about me too and how to stay strong. That I have good friends. And most of all that the world isn’t going to come to an end just because because Smaug is blowing smoke out his nostrils.

Here’s a holiday I’ve never understood. I love my mother 365 days a year and one day a year I’m made to feel guilty about not remembering it. This holiday also causes LightHusband much consternation because my birthday comes so close. My children love me 365 days a year (although last night I may have been heard to grumble under my breath, “What I really want tomorrow is a day with no arguing.” as we were clearing and setting the table for dinner). It just all seems to be a national guilt trip and I don’t care to participate … thank you very much.

I did when I was younger. I saved my money and purchased a small figurine for my mother that said “World’s Best Mother” at the bottom. It’s very funny because the figurine is the antithesis of my mother. She gave it to LightGirl to give to me a couple of years ago. So now it’s in my house and I’m the “World’s Best Mother.” It’s also the antithesis of me. We both giggle about it.

But … this morning (HT to Maggi Dawn) I discovered the roots of Mothers Day. God bless our greeting card industry and their pea pickin’ little hearts, because I never knew about this. This makes Mothers Day so much more palatable. It was begun as day for the nation (not families) to honor mothers and the sacrifices they made. And it was begun as part of the women’s suffrage movement. Ironic then, how cloying it has become. There are three women responsible for Mothers Day. A mother and daughter with the same name, Anna Jarvis, and Julia Ward Howe, better known for her authorship of the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

I feel a bit better about the holiday now. I also feel a bit cheated. What a great heritage we women have. The herstory of women has been warped and bent til it’s nearly unrecognizable. Maybe that’s what I’ll be when I grow up … a women’s “her”storian.

At last … did you hear it? The combined exhale as all of us in our community let out our breaths. The AwakeChildren are here!! They have made their grand entrance to the world this afternoon. We can all breath again. YAHOO! Our girl weighs 6lbs 12 oz. and our boy weighs 3lbs 12oz.

I probably shouldn’t speak so proprietorially of them, but after this long wait and many prayers, they are already part of our community and family. All that remains is to hear their names and see their faces. Which I (for one) await with much glee and anticipation.