This was a real treat when I was a child.  Ends & Pieces.  That would be bacon I’m talking about here.  The meat packing plant would pack up all the bits that are left over when they are finished slicing up the perfect strips of bacon and they heap them onto a styrofoam tray, wrap some plastic around them and call it good.  You get some real treats in there, nice meaty pieces of bacon, but you also get some real duds; slabs of nothing but fat.  It’s cheaper than so-called regular bacon because it’s not very pretty.  But it’s very tasty.  So that’s what you’re getting today … ends and pieces.  Cheaper than the regular thing, some pieces might be really meaty, but you might find some that are pure lard.  You’ll have to decide.

About 7 months ago, LightHusband and I joined Weight Watchers.  We’ve added more than a few pounds over the years and we need to send those extra pounds packing; go find someone else to torment, thank you very much.  BlisteringSh33p and BlazingEwe had joined about 5 months before we did, so they were old hands at it.  So off we go every Monday night to face the ScaleMiser and listen to our FearlessLeader as he gives us help, tips and pointers for the week to come.  This is a long tedious process during which I am coming face to face with my very unhealthy relationship with food and how I use it to feed many things in my life besides my bodily functions.  sigh.  But that’s another story.  Last night as we sat in the meeting, I came face to face to with another gremlin in my life.  ADHD.  It’s something I’ve often wondered thought I might be dealing with or have dealt with and I laugh at myself about it a lot.  But it was not even a diagnosis when I was young, so I was certainly never given that label.  And now I’m not sure I want it.  But it would be nice to know because then I could figure out how to overcome it.  In any case, our FearlessLeader was describing the 4 main ingredients in what WW calls, Filling Foods.  These are foods that give you the most bang for the buck (the calories they contain).  Mostly they are high fiber/low calorie fruits and vegetables.  He said, “blah, blah, blah air, water, fiber, protein …. ” and I had a fully formed vision of Air, Water, Fiber and Protein as the SuperFriends from the Hall of Justice.  I could not stop giggling and leaned over to tell BlazingEwe.  She started giggling.  Then neither of us could stop.  And poor FearlessLeader had to bring the meeting to a halt because we were about on the floor!  I ‘fessed up to my vision and brought the house down.  But my point is, I’m always having visions like this and have had since I was very little.  When I was younger, I thought everyone did.  As I get older, I’m finding that no, I’m kinda weird.  Not everyone thinks like this.  In fact, it’s mostly people who have brains which can’t sit still think like this.

I know I can get medicine to help with this.  But I don’t think I want it.  I think I’m going to read up on coping and figure myself out.  I’m going to try and harness this energy for good, not evil 😉 and work with it.  This could be a good thing eventually.

The other day (maybe the same day) I had conversation with a young lady about reincarnation.  She confided in me that she believes in reincarnation and proceeded to give me some statistics that bore out this belief.  I listened politely.  Then she asked me if I believed in reincarnation.  No, I said, I do not.  I do, however, believe that our soul continues to exist past the life of our physical body, but I do not believe that it goes on to live in another body.  She wanted to know why I don’t believe that, but our conversation was cut short and I didn’t have a chance to explain myself.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot since then and the short answer is grace.  And, honestly, that’s the long answer too.  Oh, I used to believe in all kinds of different things, and yes, I even spent some time believing that reincarnation was a likely possibility.  But then I discovered grace and I just can’t get enough of it.  I don’t like the idea that we’re born over and over again to atone for the sins of a past life that we can’t remember.  It seems capricious and mean and points to a standard of behavior and perfection that really no one can live up to.  It reminds of the legend of Sisyphus somehow; always hungering and thirsting for something we cannot have.  But the God I found in my late 20’s and early 30’s was giving out love and mercy and grace liberally, to all who wanted it.  Believe in me, S/He said, and that’s all S/He wanted; some trust, some faith and some love in return.  I can do that.  So, no, I do not believe in reincarnation, but I believe in grace and the One who Loves endlessly.  But sometimes it’s fun to talk about past lives and imagine … I’ll grant you that 😉

It’s that time of year again … in many different places people are talking about reunions.  They are talking about class reunions, family reunions, school reunions, etc.  I had a startling revelation about the power of our minds the other day.  It was very revealing to me.  About 6 months ago, the LightChildren and I joined a couple of homeschooling groups for the purpose of socializing with other teenagers.  We get together with one group in particular about once a week and all of us have made friends … me too!  It’s been a welcome relief after the past three years in the desert.  The moms are all about my age, some a little older, some a little younger.  But they are around my age.  We all look like a peer group.  I admire these women and see them as adults in the middle of their lives.  Then one day I was thinking about a couple of my dear friends from highschool who I will be seeing when I go to Vermont next week.  It was startling to me that I do not “see” them as being the same age as the women who I am friends with now.  For some reason, my perception of my highschool friends is that they are younger than my current cohort group, when the fact is that they are likely older than the ladies here in Virginia.  Then I wonder, do my highschool friends and I behave differently when we’re together?  Do we revert and act more like our younger selves?  What forces are at play here?  Or do I behave more maturely when I am with my friends here in Virginia?  Or … am I the same and I just play cruel mind games on myself?  It’s all very mysterious and makes me realize what a powerful force our minds are when we are dealing with reality vs. perception.

Sunday night we had a huge scare.  LightGirl ended up in the emergency room after an anaphylactic reaction to ???  We don’t know what.  The best guess at the moment is that she had Exercise Induced Anaphylaxis.  This is not common, but it usually caused by a combination of food and exercise.  This does not mean that the patient is allergic to the food they have eaten, but it may mean that they are sensitive to it and the increased blood flow, etc. of exercise causes an extreme anti-histamine reaction causing anaphylactic shock.  She is going to the allergist tomorrow where we will find out more about this.  Her lungs still hurt and she is having trouble talking.  I can find out plenty about anaphylaxis on the internet, but nothing about the aftermath and recovery.  If anyone reading this has gone through it and knows what we might expect, I’d love to hear your story.  It would be a huge help to us.

In a week we go to Vermont for our annual pilgrimage.  It’s going to be a somewhat shorter trip this year.  But it will be fun nonetheless.  I’m looking forward to some porch time to say the least!

So.  Basically I really hated yesterday’s prompt and had a rebellion.  You’ll be left forever wondering what it was, why I hated it and what I might have responded to it if I’d stopped kicking over the traces long enough to actually think.  My tiny little excuse is a really really bad case of hives that is apparently caused by the sun.  I have turned into a vampire.

Har.  Just kidding.  Some meds I take for seizures are causing sun sensitivity which, in my case, causes hives.  This has happened before in the past 5 or years since I started this new drug, but I’ve never been in the sun as long as I was on Friday (riding a tube down the Shenandoah).  So the hives were mighty and cursed this time.  Prednisone has become my new best friend.  However, I had so much fun on that tubing trip I’d do it all again … I’d just give in and go to the doctor’s sooner

Today’s prompt is this –

What’s the first thing you notice about a man when you meet him? A woman?

The first thing I notice about men and women is their eyes.  Maybe it’s because I was taught to look people in the eyes when being introduced.  Or maybe I just love eyes.  Or whatever.  Who knows … I could spend all day rationalizing, but the bottom line is I dig people’s eyes.  I love eye shapes and sizes and colors.  I love the way a person’s eyes define their face and their mood.  I love the way eyes sparkle and gleam.  I think the most fun I ever had in a class was when I took a class on portraiture and learned how to draw eyes.  I got so much perspective from that experience.

The second thing I notice is their hands.  You can tell a lot about a person from their hands.  You can see how they feel about themselves in the way their hands are carried and used in a conversation.  You can see how they relate to the world in how they take care of their hands and how their hands are used in their line of work.  When they shake hands with you, you can tell a lot about how that person perceives you and your status vis a vis them.  Personally, as a woman, I love it when a man gives me a good firm handshake.  I hate the namby-pamby woman shake that I’m subjected to in the name of chivalry or whatever.  It sucks.  It’s like expecting a great bowl of good chocolate ice cream and you get a tiny dish of half melted soft-serve instead.  Bleh.  I also like good hugs but only from friends.  Stranger-hugging is weird in my book.  And there is entirely too much hugging here in the south (from my northern perspective).  But I digress … as you may have noticed I also love hands.  And lately, I’ve loved watching as my children’s hands are developing from pudgy kid hands into adult hands.  They are beautiful.  The same is happening with their friends and cousins.  It’s like a small marker of passage through time and is enjoyable to watch as they cavort through life together.

What about you?  What do you notice when you first meet people?  Does it differ with the genders?

Well … LightGirl and LightHusband are off at a wedding.  We were all invited as guests, but the bride & groom are trying to save some money (who isn’t these days?) and very politely inquired as to LightHusband’s availability for wedding photography.  He loves to do that, and LightGirl wanted to help him with her blooming photography skills.  So they are off.  My ever present introvert raised it’s head and I decided to stay home; I’d only know two other people there and with my extroverts taking pictures, I’d be lost.

So … LightBoy and I stayed home.  He invited his bestest bestie to spend the night; they’ve known each other and been besties since they could each grab a truck and roar at the other.  LaughingSon arrived just at supper time.  The big treat of the evening was Chik-Fil-A with shakes for dinner.  I was treated to a car ride and dinner with two pre-adolescent boys.

Allow me to recount some of the conversation for you.

LightBoy – “Wanna Turkish breath mint?”
LaughingSon – “What’s that?”
LightBoy – “It’s where I drop my pants and fart in your face”
Me – “OMG [exclaimed in full voice and laughing cause I couldn’t help it] where did you hear THAT?!?!” thinking perhaps a hockey locker room or something
LightBoy – “YouTube”
LaughingSon – [muttering] “oh man … I’m glad I asked”
Me … sputter sputter … no more YouTube for you young man EVER.  You’re grounded for LIFE! then we all burst into laughter.

Laughing giggling silly conversation ensues from the back seat for a few more minutes about nothing that is memorable and then:

Me – “Hey guys, you know that shakes are on for tonight, right?”
Them – “YAY” more laughing and general mayhem
LaughingSon – “Yeah, I’m too skinny … you can see my ribs without even sucking in.” (and he is pretty skinny) “See you can feel my ribs.”
LightBoy – “You can feel my ribs too.” pause “Well … you can if you kinda dig for them.”

bahahahaha … how, you might ask, did I keep the car on the road?  Yeah.  I dunno.

When I asked them what they wanted for dinner in the car, I accused them of sounding like Patrick Starfish and I was promptly corrected. No, I was told, Patrick sounds like this and we sounded like that.  Oh.  Well.  That’s much better and oh so much different and privately rolled my eyes.

On our way back into the house I had to lay some ground rules for the evening.  “There will be no Barbies blown up, maimed, dismembered or exploded on these premises this evening or in the next 24 hours.”  Mostly because LightGirl is not home to give her permission to have her old dolls tinkered with.

They are out playing with some boys in the neighborhood now and have plans for movie watching, Wii playing, X-boxing, etc til who-knows-when.

So.  My Saturday night may be quiet but it sure is interesting.

LightHusband just came to me, as I perched upon my sofa and asked, “Would it be too much to consider cleaning this space up sometime?”  I struggled to contain the laughter and said, “Well, of course it would be … where else would I put my stuff?”

Now “my” sofa is a green micro-fiber suede sofa with a chaise end.  I sit on the chaise part.  The rest of it is covered in books and papers, with the odd, empty popcorn bowl.  Upon one short stack of books, is a pile of unused paper that is a resting place for my coffee.  In front of the sofa is an old coffee table.  Upon the coffee table are more books and papers, a stack of candle holders, and my laptop case perched precariously on one end.  Underneath the coffeetable … more books.  And Rosetta Stone Arabic.  Because one day soon I really am going to start that.  Really.  I am.

LightHusband went on.  By now we were both laughing.  “You know what you need?”  “A bookshelf?” I replied.  That’s the standard answer in our house.  “No,” says he.  “You need an Uncle Paul room.  A room with a recliner in the middle surrounded by bookshelves with a light next to it.”  “Hah,” says me “I really do need a bookshelf.”  He ignored me and went on, “I can see you just like Uncle Paul, sitting there with all your books in your recliner … come to think of it, Opie was like that too.  Oh!  NO!  You’ve got it from both sides!!!”

So there it is friends.  My destiny, given to me by blood … a recliner surrounded by books.  I can only hope that someone will stop by with coffee and water occasionally.

So … here it is.  Today’s the day.  The day of the big synchroblog.  The big hitters are writing about this.  Fifty of us are writing to define the word “missional.”  When Rick sent out his call for this by blog and by e-mail (thank you, Rick), I thought, “Yeah … I do have something to say.”  In the intervening weeks though, my scattered thoughts have not gathered themselves.

I am no theologian.  I am not trained in exegesis or any of the other long scary unknowable words that people use to make themselves seem smart.  I am, at the end of the day, a teacher.  And a quilter (I love color)  And a story-teller.  So I will tell a story and teach a lesson about how I and my family are missional in the suburbs.  In our house missional means lawncare … among other things.

It all began with a door to nowhere.  Or more precisely, a door to our backyard with a 5 foot drop for a first step.  We lived in our house for 3 years with a french door that we could not use because, well, “Watch out for the first step, it’s a lou-lou.”  So we had a deck built.

Two guys built it.  I think they spoke about 10 words of English between the two of them.  Just enough to ask for the bathroom and water when they needed it.  We’d go out and admire their workmanship occasionally; they’d smile and nod.

During this time I was caring for a friend’s four children once a week while she and her husband went to marriage counseling.  It was the tradition for she and her kids to have dinner with us when the counseling was done.  One evening, it happened that the deck makers were also there.  We invited them to have dinner with us in the back yard.  We’d have eaten in the house, but we had no way to get the grilled meat into the house because of the construction.  We set up a plastic banquet table and paper plates. BlazingEwe and her FlamingLambs were here too.  The kids ate all over the yard and the grown ups ate together at the table.  I remembered about as much Spanish from highschool as they knew English.  So we were able to communicate over sticky drumsticks and gooey potato salad.  We all ate and smiled until our stomachs and faces were full.  It was one of the happiest meals I remember.

We’ve carried on the tradition since then.  Whenever people come to work on or around our home, we bring them water or share a meal with them depending on the circumstances.  This year, we’ve finally broken down and hired a lawncare service.  This has turned out to be a Hispanic man and his sons.  We don’t do lawn care with any regularity and our lawn has always been the po’white trash lawn on the block … a certain disgrace to a particular neighbor of ours.  It is the elder son who does the talking and negotiating with us.  He must be about LightGirl’s age, but sober and sturdy.  Responsible, quick and dependable.  They come whenever to mow our lawn, if we’re here we pay them, otherwise, they come another time for payment.  If we’re here, we take them water.  One evening the father was taking a little too long with his part and the sons played joyfully on our trampoline.  LightBoy joined them.  And the joy was exponential.  Our lawn has become beautiful in their capable hands, but more importantly we are slowly building a friendship with them.  Our goal is to invite them to a meal soon.  To share our hospitality with them.

You see, to me, missional is about giving hope in a world of gray.  It’s about smiling at people who routinely wear frowns.  I may never have the chance to speak the words of the Gospel to them in my outloud voice.  But I can say to my (agnostic) friend when her sense of being gets too tied up in her website, “You are more than that.  You are not your website.  You are beautiful and created for much more than that.”  Help her move beyond despair and into grace.

Missional is about loving my neighbor and that can be expressed in thousands of ways, but the thought that came into my head this morning and will not leave is the verse from Jeremiah that most people use in very different circumstances.  Jeremiah 29:11 … “1 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  Plans to give hope and a future.   You see that’s so often lacking in our world today.  Hope … AND a future.

So I speak hope into the lives of the people I know and the people I meet.  I try to know them and find the hope that is there.  Find the light that leads to the future and together we will walk towards God.

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

This is part of a synchroblog that has been organized by Blind Beggar (Rick Meigs) that is hoping to clarify and define the term “missional.”  I have more than likely just muddied the waters with my craziness here.  But these other folks will have done a much better job than I, so please read them:

Alan Hirsch
Alan Knox
Andrew Jones
Barb Peters
Bill Kinnon
Brad Brisco
Brad Grinnen
Brad Sargent
Brother Maynard
Bryan Riley
Chad Brooks
Chris Wignall
Cobus Van Wyngaard
Dave DeVries
David Best
David Fitch
David Wierzbicki
DoSi
Doug Jones
Duncan McFadzean
Erika Haub
Grace
Jamie Arpin-Ricci
Jeff McQuilkin
John Smulo
Jonathan Brink
JR Rozko
Kathy Escobar
Kent Leslie
Len Hjalmarson
Makeesha Fisher
Malcolm Lanham
Mark Berry
Mark Petersen
Mark Priddy
Michael Crane
Michael Stewart
Nick Loyd
Patrick Oden
Peggy Brown
Phil Wyman
Richard Pool
Rick Meigs
Rob Robinson
Ron Cole
Scott Marshall
Stephen Shields
Steve Hayes
Tim Thompson
Thom Turner

Happy May Day … this is my birth month and so I am always happy when May Day rolls around. It gives me an extra bounce. I love May. My lily-of-the-valley is blooming which seems appropriate. The lilac my dad gave me six years ago finally bloomed this year. It came to me in a half-pint milk carton and I had to put a little fence around it so that LightHusband wouldn’t mow it; that’s how little it was. Now it’s a full blown bush with lots of blooms.

Here’s the riddle that led to a discussion: What’s red and invisible? (answer at the bottom)

So the discussion is … there’s no word for the action that happens when you have a mouthful of something, and you are presented with something very hilarious. It takes you by surprise and, bam, the stuff in your mouth comes shooting out your nose. Here’s what my friend AleFifer had to say about it:

Ya know there’s no term for that… for having a beverage or food come out of your nose. Well maybe there is a word for it but I’m unaware of it. There definitely should be something in the mainstream vocabulary for it though as people do this often.

Hmmm…. what to call it. Nostriling? Susie nostriled her coke all over her shirt when Steve told that joke. Nyah, gotta be something better than ‘nostril’. Inhale Exhale In Out. hmmm you sip a drink sip backwards is ‘pis’ Susie pissed her coke all over her shirt… nyah. drink backwards is knird can’t use that ’cause ‘knird’ sounds too much like ‘nerd’ and we don’t want folks to be labeled as a nerd when they squirt stuff out their nose while laughing. Okay squirt, I said squirt. some word like squirt, spew, spray, pour, irrigate, drip, dribble but with a nasal flair to it. Hmmm maybe a nasal ‘flare’ …i don’t know which flair/flare to use with nostrils do you? Ya know, when you try to make your face look like an aroused bunny? What?? You don’t do that. Nevermindthen… where was I? Oh yeah putting a nostrilly tone on a squirty word. Maybe don’t need to. Maybe thinking of other words that mean nose. Well let’s see there’s … nose, honker, …um … nose …yeah I said nose already but I’m just stuck. Ah…. a term just came to me. Something related to vomiting. “Nosechuck”. Susie nosechucked her coke all over her shirt when Steve… Yeah, that’s better but not perfect.

I’ll have my subconscious mind work on it today and if it comes up with anything decent I’ll keep you informed so you can assist me in adding this needed new term to our vocabulary.

Me? I kinda like the idea of nosehurling, which he turned into “nurling.” So … what about you? What do you think? What’s a good word for it? With the onset of computer jokes and reading funny things on the screen (where we all know we should not be drinking and/or eating, but we do anyway) spewing stuff out our noses has become the symbol for something really funny, but we need a word for that.

Speaking of funny here’s a YouTube video about the Miley Cyrus who-haw that is not to be missed (ht bob carlton). Apparently she (of Hannah Montana fame) posed for some suggestive photographs for Vanity Fair and now a lot of people have their knickers in a wad. Here’s a choice that people forget they have. If a magazine is publishing photographs you don’t like, um … don’t buy it. It’s simple. And easy.

Some of you will remember this, others will just look on in wonder … but here are the 1970’s in full glorious color. I remember. Do you?

Here’s an incredible font resource that I have spent entirely too much time at lately (thanks to Jonathan Brink), but it’s all free!!

Here’s a really cool dinosaur museum and I want to go. PeregrineMan … we’re comin’ your way.

Courtesy of Scriber Thom Stark is Revolution in JesusLand, a blog by a former leftist organizer turned Christian progressive. I wish I’d known about this when I found faith, it might have saved me a lot of pain and anger now. Ce va. These two posts in particular are not to be missed, they are the first two in a series on how to save the world … the right way this time. I like this guy. The Next Step For Christian Big Thinkers – Part 1 and intro/translation for non-Christians before I get to part 2.

This last (and I’ve saved the very best for last) is rapidly becoming part of my life canon … and more on that in another post … is a powerful set of readings? poems? devotionals? I don’t know what to call these. But they are powerful and it’s quite possible that you will find them embracing you as you read them and my everlasting thanks to Bobbie at Emerging Sideways for pointing them out. Abre la puerta! (Open the door!) by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

Riddle answer? No tomatoes …

Here are some links, conversations and tid-bits for your weekend perusal or something like that.  Or because I’m bored and should be doing laundry.

A really fabulous definition of what knowledge is … or is not.   An argument … but go see for yourself.

Have you read The Shack?  If you haven’t, then get thee hence, go to … go to (yes, it really will change you and your life).  If you have, go over to Waving or Drowning and put in your picks for the cast of the fantasy movie that we’re making.   I picked Mandy Patinkin for Jesus … but that’s all I’m telling you.  You’ll have to go see what started the whole thing for yourself.

Jake is looking for input on theology lectures … if you have a favorite and know where it is on an .mp3, leave it in the comments for him.  He’s putting together a mixtape of them.  Whodathunk?

Will Samson started a conversation about Dr. Wright and his soundbites but someone left a comment about abortion versus mountaintop removal.  I’m not certain I get it, maybe you will … in any case, go watch the YouTube clip and leave a more appropriate comment there to offset the silliness.

Over at Perigrinatio, Doug meditates on the one obligation we are called to.  It’s powerful.

Last, on a pretty somber note, I’ll join the growing wave of people who recommend the series over at FuturistGuy on Spiritual Abuse.  It is both sobering and redemptive.  I have found some of it extremely emotional, part of it made me want to throw my computer across the room, and then part of it made me nod in agreement.  But after processing it all I am glad for it.  It is helpful, healing and good.  I anticipate the next piece with some apprehension and some excitement.

Me (upon finding a strangely shaped blue plastic piece on the kitchen counter) “What’s this?”

LightHusband, “I found it in the bottom of the dishwasher.  If I were a ‘real’ husband I’d know what it is.”

Me, “Oh dear … I have a faux husband.”

LightBoy (upon realizing that I have just snipped a small 1/8″ amount of his boisterous hair), “OH! Now look!  You’ve gotten bits of hair all over my logic book.”

Me, “That’s what’s known as hairy logic.”

At which LightGirl fell out of her chair …