tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-335688072024-03-19T04:43:17.948-05:00Getting ThereGetting older, still exploring radical faith and trying to be as honest as I can about the things that matter. Justice, good food, learning, mercy, faith, hot soup and bread, integrity, watching people grow and change, knitting with natural fibers, sunflowers in September...vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.comBlogger494125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-47630435276335045422023-11-27T15:15:00.000-06:002023-11-27T15:15:37.194-06:00Getting centered after Thanksgiving... and Rosalynn Carter<p> After a big event, I usually need some down time. Generally the day after the bluegrass festival and the day after getting home from vacation are sleep days for me. I don't know if it's my enneagram type? In spite of having a low tolerance for chaos, I've planned plenty of it into my world.</p><p>Today is one of those days.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcQwoCHZQFPSwNzk-S3wj1SMbEcB1GYla6VqVd0bRZxMbhGuGZO08RBlYw-iI4_tZ738XLxqWZoo4lPrMiZyeo85p9NwtW0Ff1-vE_Pnv_4afXOcw8LXJDVcVsHco2Fg449BPHXho65VVuzj3mdgt8POiQyRB0TFzZyfkzwPsI4nBd3_8APimgA/s4096/IMG_20231127_104833035.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcQwoCHZQFPSwNzk-S3wj1SMbEcB1GYla6VqVd0bRZxMbhGuGZO08RBlYw-iI4_tZ738XLxqWZoo4lPrMiZyeo85p9NwtW0Ff1-vE_Pnv_4afXOcw8LXJDVcVsHco2Fg449BPHXho65VVuzj3mdgt8POiQyRB0TFzZyfkzwPsI4nBd3_8APimgA/w640-h480/IMG_20231127_104833035.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fritz joining me for down time</td></tr></tbody></table><p>At my age, I should have already honed a strategy for getting reconnected with my center in the midst of the activity. But since our move, it has not come easily. Honestly, in the opportunities when I <u>could</u> reach for center, I've often grabbed instead for escape, usually in media. NPR, Instagram, and podcasts are my primary sources.</p><p>Much of what I find there are very hard stories right now...stories that fill any empty time with prayers and horror at the human caused pain in the world. Instead of centered, I find myself off balance, despairing, reactive, irritable.</p><p>So I've been grasping for a way back to myself, to the inner grounding that is supposed to hold me steady.</p><p>A couple of days ago I decided to return to using the Anabaptist Prayer Book app on my phone. I <a href="https://vintage-navelgazer.blogspot.com/2017/12/take-my-moments.html">posted</a> about it several years ago.</p><p>Each devotional begins with a call to worship and a psalm, and then moves into thanksgiving. The opening line in the thanksgiving section reads,</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>My heart is ready, O God</i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">That line...</p><p style="text-align: left;">Those words are the truth. My heart is ready, more than ready, for the calm that comes with being centered in truth.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I know when I feel challenged or overwhelmed or any of those things, I need to focus on what is true. Being in nature, watching the birds at the feeder, staying present in the moment...all of those things can nudge me toward truth. But for me the right words are faster. They can open me up more quickly to all of those other wonders. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>My heart is ready...</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to notice </i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>the red flash of the cardinal winging it's way over the snowy world</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to hear </i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>the silence </i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i> the ticking of the clock</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to breathe deeply</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to be still</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to be thankful</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to be honest</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to be humbled</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to be strengthened</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to be understood and loved</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to rest there for a bit</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>to offer my prayers for the world </i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>for my closest loved ones</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>for my community </i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>for those who are suffering</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>for peace</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>for justice...</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>my heart is ready</i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>* * * * *</b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">On another note...</p><p style="text-align: left;">Funeral services for Rosalynn Carter are today. I've been reading stories about her life, and, as often happens, she has become more human as well as more super-human in those stories. She championed many causes in her life. A particular favorite of hers was mental health.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I learned today that she used many channels to do that work, one of them being a <a href="https://www.npr.org/2023/11/27/1214870777/rosalynn-carter-mental-health-legacy-aaron-glantz">fellowship that granted funding to journalists</a> to give them time to do the research and ground work to write in-depth stories about mental health. One of those fellowships was granted to an immigrant from Cambodia, whose family came to the United States to escape the horrors of the Khmer Rouge genocide. The grant proposal focused on reporting the long term psychological effects of that genocide. It was only after receiving the fellowship and beginning her research that Soreath Hok discovered Rosalynn had visited the refugee camps in Thailand and was instrumental as First Lady in bringing refugees to the United States, including Hok's own family.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Rosalynn's focus was on how her work, and the work of the journalists, could make an impact. Certainly for that journalist and for many others, she succeeded. May her spirit and values live on.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-14800395945370558532023-11-15T15:44:00.000-06:002023-11-15T15:44:11.160-06:00Getting Where?<p> It's November again, the month I've sometimes tried to use to jump start my blog. Do people still blog? They do, but they do it on substack and they often have a free version, and then a longer and more complete subscription version. I keep track of Sarah Bessey and Diana Butler Bass and a few others. But they have written books and developed a market. An old fashioned blog will still be my contribution.</p><p>I originally named this blog "Getting There". Reviewing what I wrote about who I am, which is displayed at the top of each post, there's one glaring error. I'm no longer just past midlife. I'm staring at retirement (whatever that means for a woman who mostly did her work from home) and wondering what decline will look like for me, for us. </p><p>Of course, that is not the only thing I'm doing. But does the title "Getting There" still describe the way I see my life? Getting where???</p><p>We have moved off the farm in the last year. I'm still learning how to live in this beautiful space, curated so lovingly by my uncle and aunt until they moved out and we moved in. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZpky7z7brzxehjsmOnq64fR2iwGPxShUeX2198Gt1tEXTlhGEXknoOG6VgcmKQh7razR3CNmtbujj5f4WdGhT8NW82fHN97YNZPV9WCqTGtVhumV1bc8wDO-e3j-5f59yddGuSKY08ip4-6QNSA1pYVV_YulwftmT15lOSY0RKTe1-T9KFw-vA/s4096/IMG_20231020_181222454.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZpky7z7brzxehjsmOnq64fR2iwGPxShUeX2198Gt1tEXTlhGEXknoOG6VgcmKQh7razR3CNmtbujj5f4WdGhT8NW82fHN97YNZPV9WCqTGtVhumV1bc8wDO-e3j-5f59yddGuSKY08ip4-6QNSA1pYVV_YulwftmT15lOSY0RKTe1-T9KFw-vA/w640-h480/IMG_20231020_181222454.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnepja7mty1BEdkyynhZJJ5Vlds5fBRl13rn4dCVERjdRjiTOgS1ueXwhGLZ4EFTJHj4I9H_DbLz5lS9bOwtewAhGtFNo9XfaM4xLygs8-TBiYVa7TUAWkjtoQhntHnMeg_j0FEzQxzigWjYWXQByUGu0cltj4yNLi4Zk5mqy6k483RcjpvBOSug/s4096/IMG_20231021_131758895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnepja7mty1BEdkyynhZJJ5Vlds5fBRl13rn4dCVERjdRjiTOgS1ueXwhGLZ4EFTJHj4I9H_DbLz5lS9bOwtewAhGtFNo9XfaM4xLygs8-TBiYVa7TUAWkjtoQhntHnMeg_j0FEzQxzigWjYWXQByUGu0cltj4yNLi4Zk5mqy6k483RcjpvBOSug/w480-h640/IMG_20231021_131758895.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlYKuMkBnv476uOjEUrG_mRaEvLkAQhSzcaZBZkIFXsfQfhjamQUGNDkYsCEjWudKGvxNAA0WbLTAEnhY6tncTmqcgRvlfPj5HqKub3Odozy9iUSWQrf08lvLafeT7yKzhnh8I8rXwYSa9oyPMdsNg9EANtDnBlGiZwwCPD7yx5BME1xnb6F8cQ/s4096/IMG_20231110_103837249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlYKuMkBnv476uOjEUrG_mRaEvLkAQhSzcaZBZkIFXsfQfhjamQUGNDkYsCEjWudKGvxNAA0WbLTAEnhY6tncTmqcgRvlfPj5HqKub3Odozy9iUSWQrf08lvLafeT7yKzhnh8I8rXwYSa9oyPMdsNg9EANtDnBlGiZwwCPD7yx5BME1xnb6F8cQ/w480-h640/IMG_20231110_103837249.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6QdI7eHFwBX_DDoh-FcN3hgx99rWcOoGvmC39s5q1TywKTP1FkNy47Wp5k8uZk2lopTq2vPDwY7WzS-pMKhXABxF5TqLmy-EDqRwj8sH1C6FX3XVT6QhQ1lYifuAYd7h0sICsiEiXf1HWHasySjajn6p2L6RSmdexAD70IG9VjcWoNp8FcGqZw/s1600/IMG_20231110_072115898_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6QdI7eHFwBX_DDoh-FcN3hgx99rWcOoGvmC39s5q1TywKTP1FkNy47Wp5k8uZk2lopTq2vPDwY7WzS-pMKhXABxF5TqLmy-EDqRwj8sH1C6FX3XVT6QhQ1lYifuAYd7h0sICsiEiXf1HWHasySjajn6p2L6RSmdexAD70IG9VjcWoNp8FcGqZw/w640-h480/IMG_20231110_072115898_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>We've not lived here a year yet, and each season holds its own wonders in their/our yard of trees and prairie. I know the goal should be to be able to feel that this is OUR home, but at this point in my life that seems a goal made of hubris. How do you own a place? Does this place belong more to me than it does to the deer who wander through our yard, or to the bluestem grasses, or raccoon families? I'm grateful to be living here...grateful many times every day. But it does not feel like it is mine, and at least for now, I'm glad. I don't want to take it for granted. I don't want to believe I have a right to it or that I've somehow earned it.</p><p>Of course fall brings the color that we expect. Somehow it always is more beautiful than we remembered. This land, with it's chosen trees has provided daily discoveries. We notice which trees show color first, and enjoy the peak beauty of each variety. We are nearly at the end now, with the Bradford Pears the last ones with brilliant leaves falling rapidly.</p><p>But back to 'getting there'. We are somewhere different than we were before.</p><p>I think when I chose that title, I had a way of being in mind, more than a place. In that sense, I'm still on my way. Maybe I'm wishing I'd made more progress. I'd hoped to be more wise by now, more confident in my ability to handle whatever is ahead. I believed by now I'd be more certain in my understanding of myself, my loved ones, my faith.</p><p>Instead, I seem to find more questions. Getting there may mean finding more humility and awe, rather than more confidence. While humility can be (and has been) pretty painful, awe is a welcome companion on the way through humility.</p><p>The thing I am finding is more of a sense that the questions are ok, the uncertainty is ok. Continuing to need to learn, to make up for mistakes, to watch and wonder, to recalibrate...all these things are part of growing up, and even at this time of my life, there are ways I'd really love to be better, smarter, more confident. </p><p>So "Getting There" will stay the title, without a definition of where I'm getting to.</p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-69494327977455649052022-01-15T22:17:00.000-06:002022-01-15T22:17:43.380-06:00Curated social media<p style="text-align: center;">We often talk about social media, and the time it eats up for most people. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The platforms allow you to curate the way you present yourself to the world. We share the good photos, the tidy rooms, the tasty meals, the fun with friends.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Less often shown are photos of disorder, discord, or the third night in a row of leftovers for supper. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The result of that kind of sharing can be shame. If everyone else is having fun, eating gormet food, and living in a beautifully designed and orderly space, what is wrong with me????</p><p style="text-align: center;">And yet...</p><p style="text-align: center;">I still use both Instagram and Facebook, although Instagram gets more of my time.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Everyone who knows me well, knows my living space is rarely perfectly organized and uncluttered, but those who only see my feed may not get that impression.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I take pictures when gratitude becomes my focal point. I frame the photos so that the thing I am noticing will take center stage. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Today I took a photo of freshly baked bread. I took a photo only of the bread, cooling on the counter. It was zoomed in, so that the goodness of the bread would take center stage, and not the clutter elsewhere on the counter.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIwpsv169My1O3ci8DBIPQMxRRkDZE2MAc43bDlv5LuP-583deMpVUcM68Zy491CvnVTqG9r6SVBNFBfyOVXaEXzYDagkwuHejfplC3uQjy-0Gh8IEJKLSb9-G_Nsjp___eUlDVaEKJ-n7-tXyeZWVUTvpvNgHLYeEkPClwSLHbKVFJ9y0vH4=s4096" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIwpsv169My1O3ci8DBIPQMxRRkDZE2MAc43bDlv5LuP-583deMpVUcM68Zy491CvnVTqG9r6SVBNFBfyOVXaEXzYDagkwuHejfplC3uQjy-0Gh8IEJKLSb9-G_Nsjp___eUlDVaEKJ-n7-tXyeZWVUTvpvNgHLYeEkPClwSLHbKVFJ9y0vH4=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">I didn't crop out the clutter because I wanted to give a false impression. I cropped out the clutter because the bread making had nourished me. Pulling fragrant loaves out of the oven and smelling them as they cooled connected with a deeper sense of gratitude, that overshadowed the mess it took to bake the bread. It also energized me for the clean-up, which is, after all, a part of the goodness of the job. I don't always remember that. When I took the photo, I'd not cleaned up yet, but I have now. Three of the loaves are in the freezer and the fourth will be part of breakfast tomorrow. </p><p style="text-align: center;">All of that cannot show in the photo. I also can't show what it feels like to push and shape the dough, or the beauty of having been part of mixing and baking. I can't capture the amazement that still is surprised, after all these years of baking, that the yeast did it's job, the bread rose, the slashes spread out and created art on the crust.</p><p style="text-align: center;">But I can take a photo. It isn't a photo of perfect bread, but it is a glimpse of the goodness of baking. If I took a wide photo that had all the things in the kitchen, including the bread cooling on the counter, it would not at all capture how I felt today having finally baked bread again. You would not see it.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So I fill my feeds with the best curated photos I can take.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Truthfully, the goal is at least partly mindfulness.</p><p style="text-align: center;">When I go for a walk, it is often easy to let my worries take over my attention. I can miss all the things that are around me. I'll walk right past the winter grasses that are so beatiful with their gradients of color and their seed heads silhouetted against a January sky. But if I have my phone ready, I'm present. Who'd have thought the phone would make me more mindful?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I don't always need it, but having it helps.</p><p style="text-align: center;">We walk most nights, trying to time it for the sunset. I don't take pictures every night. But somehow, the fact that I have taken sunset pictures frequently makes me notice more. These walks are not aerobic, because the sky changes so quickly. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGYuAmoKImZkoLNy5-oU8UOz6M1SOPG2fcjOVPF3fThp1yPaNbXeTnYn_EWZji0YzJ0BvhxZxTHAPCY1WcLpGjvqM0XsJD0B6iWjpemicvMvH4F6N9UAlLM90Q0qjH35SNzsz2vVUw5B8QFNBFbzgbUDzGgWJMBpLWtFBoZvlb54rQMtIOXo4=s4096" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGYuAmoKImZkoLNy5-oU8UOz6M1SOPG2fcjOVPF3fThp1yPaNbXeTnYn_EWZji0YzJ0BvhxZxTHAPCY1WcLpGjvqM0XsJD0B6iWjpemicvMvH4F6N9UAlLM90Q0qjH35SNzsz2vVUw5B8QFNBFbzgbUDzGgWJMBpLWtFBoZvlb54rQMtIOXo4=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then geese fly through, and if the sun is at the right place as the geese fly over, the yellow and orange light shines on them from below as they fly over, and it's gorgeous, ablsolutely gorgeous. I doesn't matter if I've seen it every day of the week for weeks on end. If the sun lights up the geese from below, it will take my breath away, and I'll have to just stop and watch until they've flown on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxyy56noJEbQBIn3IU-z1YcwySWzLnbT8OZOb4yrMmBpoTVKO9Os1NuJMLf2EPAAuDF710CaegT0Co' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p style="text-align: center;">The other night, as we watched the sun set behind the lake, I wondered how the world can contain this kind of beauty...indescribable beauty...and also the horror of the way the world is, the way people treat each other.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8YR7EyqmkvBahVNzMf44megfK5QzOo-BxAciqFu03hCRWL0LeR9Mv20G1_JhIMi_2RmKAEzWDwdPM-H9Yz3R9Hp1hAZofINK69ptCWyBFgwFM6fGzq54RtqCcCkhZ09e3rvPzOcEUKFSvfXtn7ne9VP-4YKo_87fMhW197pJsZd8FE7kcfng=s4096" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8YR7EyqmkvBahVNzMf44megfK5QzOo-BxAciqFu03hCRWL0LeR9Mv20G1_JhIMi_2RmKAEzWDwdPM-H9Yz3R9Hp1hAZofINK69ptCWyBFgwFM6fGzq54RtqCcCkhZ09e3rvPzOcEUKFSvfXtn7ne9VP-4YKo_87fMhW197pJsZd8FE7kcfng=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">We can't forget about that other, or working to make things better. So many people are hurting. So many things are wrong. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Maybe it is the sun on the bellies of the geese, and the colors or the sun going down, reflected in the glassy waters of the lake; maybe it is those beautiful things that remind us there is also goodness. Maybe they give us the strength to get up in the morning to try again to be better, to be part of making things more whole, more just.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And so, I curate my feed, in order to nourish my own spirit, </p><p style="text-align: center;">my own hope, </p><p style="text-align: center;">and possibly yours as well.</p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-2818414541387574422021-12-13T22:41:00.001-06:002021-12-14T00:03:47.496-06:00Seeing Advent with New Eyes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Last week, the Magnificat was part of the devotional readings, and while I know and have sung those words many times, there was something fresh in this reading.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It begins with a visitation from an angel, identified as Gabriel, to a young woman engaged to be married. Gabriel greets her, calling her "favored one" and assures her that the Lord is with her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But she is perplexed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Throughout most of this visit, she is quiet, pondering, questioning, listening.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The angel gives her unbelievable news. She has been chosen to have a child, whom she is to give the name, Jesus. This child will be great. He will be called the Son of the Most High. God will give him the throne of David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom will not end.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mary does not rejoice. She does not burst out with singing or laughter or excitement. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She asks a question.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"How can this be?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So the angel gives her a discreet version of the details, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">emphasizing that this child will be holy, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the Son of God. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But the angel doesn't stop there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Gabriel gives her a companion, a woman she knows well, a relative. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Elizabeth is also experiencing something unfathomable. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mary receives this news that she is not alone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She has another woman to walk through this with her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Mary consents, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">calling herself the servant of the Lord. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Maybe she would have consented anyway, who knows? But I find it so wonderful that she was given someone to walk alongside her who would understand completely what Mary was going through. It was a kind of validation that this role she is being given requires a companion, and that God saw her need and fulfilled it without her even asking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then Mary sets out 'with haste' to see her relative, Elizabeth. What must she have thought about during that journey? Did she travel alone? Was she afraid of what was happening to her? Did she still believe it was real? Could she sleep at night? Did she have obsessive repetitive worrisome thoughts like I do when facing tasks that are too big for me? None of these questions are answered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What we know is this. She was greeted by Elizabeth with enthusiasm, with awe, filled with the Holy Spirit, and Elizabeth immediately confirmed all that the angel had told Mary, even before Mary had a chance to say anything.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Elizabeth, this loving older woman who has suffered throughout her life from her childlessness, feels her unborn child leap within her at the sound of Mary's greeting. She welcomes Mary with joy and awe and gratitude, and Mary is no longer alone with her news, and her questions, and her miraculous pregnancy. She has another woman walking alongside her, seeing her for who she is, understanding her in ways no one else could possibly understand her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That is the moment when Mary bursts out with what we now call the Magnificat. It is when she finds another woman in the middle of an impossible miracle who believes her even before she speaks. That meeting of these two women gives Mary the power and the joy to speak this amazing prophecy.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5jmINpq1kXYMCL_VpDtkLQu72JI2Gtnpn6zrYvorwvZs8R3DBDTcNnNM2SbNd8nNSxHBSmYfYDLCCnt-LY1M6WXwQTewVvjl8t9M4pgXIaqw0E3WbJrunZb8rdCV3nGV7oTYfuSDK0dMhKWnGJ1zO58_YC9aouFZXXK8vI_HgZWI_DFxgOBc=s3372" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2182" data-original-width="3372" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5jmINpq1kXYMCL_VpDtkLQu72JI2Gtnpn6zrYvorwvZs8R3DBDTcNnNM2SbNd8nNSxHBSmYfYDLCCnt-LY1M6WXwQTewVvjl8t9M4pgXIaqw0E3WbJrunZb8rdCV3nGV7oTYfuSDK0dMhKWnGJ1zO58_YC9aouFZXXK8vI_HgZWI_DFxgOBc=w640-h414" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 67.5pt; margin-right: 72.37894736842105pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My soul magnifies the Lord, </span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-d7158c2e-7fff-99de-2025-d111e600c690"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He has shown strength with him arm;</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">According to the promise he made to our ancestors,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">To Abraham and to his descendants forever.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">* * * * *</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin: 0pt 72.3789pt 0pt 67.5pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is a strength of women together that God understands. Giving Mary and Elizabeth to each other at this tender time in the lives of both of them is powerful wisdom in knowing the solidarity and companionship they both would need.</span></span></p></span></div>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-57220561566687761672021-12-07T22:34:00.001-06:002021-12-07T22:34:49.206-06:00Present<p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We walked this evening at sunset, after a cloudy cold day. We were bundled up against the early December cold---the kind of temperature that feels bracing now. After January we will likely describe these temps as warm, but we aren’t yet accustomed to the cooler winds. </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-a0c90361-7fff-8514-0834-9df3c83ab639"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The sky was mostly overcast when we started, so there was less color than the usual breath-taking Kansas sunset. I’d brought my phone along, but recognized I would not be taking photos this time. There was a spot near the horizon where the clouds had a split. The sun was in that spot as we started, so it gleamed a strong yellow right there, but the rest of the sky was unremarkable. We walked and watched as it lowered and became less bright.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our attention was drawn to the honking and gathering of geese flying in a group over the fields nearby. They moved more like blackbirds, all together, instead of the lines we are used to seeing move with purpose across the sky. As a group, they would rise and lower and then land in a field, only to rise again as one and move, first one direction, and then another before settling again into silence. They took our attention away from the clouds momentarily. When we looked back, the clouds were lit from underneath.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyjPxrWUyG3Y7aeEv8AmUOzyQ5Xli4uwTsGXDVhFx9NzCrqkkv498SFHBGQwPr-ec2TA80KAXvHUKItviwKI7gG2CEF02Ytgepm-gGTa7CwpTSWfLenLvDmCF_qG3y9KDTdXIEz7s8poxTrSfmKFtbtFHZY3reXYkqSEA7w_oSjY1X2jeMEO8=s4096" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyjPxrWUyG3Y7aeEv8AmUOzyQ5Xli4uwTsGXDVhFx9NzCrqkkv498SFHBGQwPr-ec2TA80KAXvHUKItviwKI7gG2CEF02Ytgepm-gGTa7CwpTSWfLenLvDmCF_qG3y9KDTdXIEz7s8poxTrSfmKFtbtFHZY3reXYkqSEA7w_oSjY1X2jeMEO8=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It wasn’t over. The brightness at the horizon was dimmed, but the rays of light slipping under the cloud cover to paint the clouds was just beginning. The texture was lit with golden light that changed every moment in brightness as well as color. We watched as it morphed from shades of yellows to oranges and then reds and pinks, and the color spread higher and wider until even the east side was pink and there were pink streaks in the north. We’d already turned toward home by then so we had to walk a bit sideways to keep our eyes on it. It changed constantly, becoming more intense, brighter, more vivid.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipOo_tHJZoMB8q9g2VPPoIJL6OqgNS4MFxrNIxUJV85VjupkGKidAjxaDpsSXA0m7xMBj8tebqephaHmmjX5LiT7wVke5BN1FWwIl-RhIC7G8i_rRyi0WVzOoFfpKhFy4sCsdaq7e_vHNuwZuYq3qQgkB7QH7eLVRxYlbzYVg5ikDYqwoVcGc=s4096" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipOo_tHJZoMB8q9g2VPPoIJL6OqgNS4MFxrNIxUJV85VjupkGKidAjxaDpsSXA0m7xMBj8tebqephaHmmjX5LiT7wVke5BN1FWwIl-RhIC7G8i_rRyi0WVzOoFfpKhFy4sCsdaq7e_vHNuwZuYq3qQgkB7QH7eLVRxYlbzYVg5ikDYqwoVcGc=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And then, suddenly, it was less. Darkness began to take back the sky and little by little the colors retreated. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It couldn’t have lasted much longer than fifteen minutes.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We happened to be present then.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Being present is something I’m trying to learn. I spend a lot of time not being present, worrying, or using information overload or social media noise to block the things I worry about or fear. Being present doesn’t necessarily take away those worries or fears. It does remind me there is more. Being real about what is happening in the world includes beauty along with the hard. Moving toward both together, neglecting neither, provides a balance I need. </span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-22570094729871045732021-11-30T23:03:00.000-06:002021-11-30T23:03:41.539-06:00November's End<p style="text-align: center;">The last day of November is nearly over. Tomorrow begins birthday month with four December birthdays to celebrate along with Christmas in our family.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Observations from my sporadic November posts....</p><p style="text-align: center;">Blogging seems to me a good discipline for writing, but it no longer fits the norm for electronic self expression. There are writers I love, whose books I read, whose podcasts I listen to, but I rarely read their blogs. I'm too used to cramming in short blurbs from Facebook and Instagram. Something longer takes a choice to slow down the scrolling and actually read paragraphs instead of captions.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Part of this is due to the changes in the digital world. I don't even have a Tiktok or Twitter account, and still, the number of times I check my phone for emails, messages, and Instagram posts or stories leads to a sense of possibly missing out. It drives an intensity, or maybe anxiety? </p><p style="text-align: center;">The world slowing for down for covid has made a difference to me as well. Isolation has not been good for inspiration. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The exception, not surprisingly, has been teaching High School Sunday School. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Lesson prep is something I take pretty seriously. I remember a podcast with Nadia Bolz-Weber where she talked about sermon writing. She said that she has to sit with a passage until it breaks her own heart before she can preach about that passage. I don't know if I would word it the way she does, but there has to be a conviction that <span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">there is something in this lesson that is worthy, true, lovely, and illustrative of the goodness of God</span> before I can teach it. If I haven't found that in the lesson, it is hard to believe I have something to offer that is worth the time of those who show up. Sometimes the worthy true beautiful thing is obvious the first time I read the lesson text and my task is to plan a lesson around it so the group can discover it as well. Sometimes I have to wrestle with it, even late into the night before I teach. Truthfully, sometimes even then I don't have a confident sense of the essence that should make up the lesson.</p><p style="text-align: center;">By now, having taught nearly all the ages of children's and youth Sunday School classes, I should relax a bit about this. But the most nervous time period of a teaching week is the period of time between entering the classroom and beginning the lesson.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I should know better, but I will have to relearn this again and again.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The most obvious illustration of what I should know is from when I was still teaching 2nd grade. The lesson in the teacher's manual was not at all something that would work with my teaching style or the children in my class. I couldn't find the 'aha' that would be the cornerstone of the lesson. I stayed up half the night working toward putting together something that was honest and engaging for a room full of seven and eight year olds, and I came up dry.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That morning was the morning I should have learned that it isn't about me. I began with the usual check-ins, asking about their week, engaging in greetings and conversations. And then I was honest. I told them I'd stayed up late in the night trying to understand the thing that was important for them to learn about God this week, and I still didn't know. I invited them to read the text with me, and maybe we could figure it out together. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">And we did. It was a holy moment, at least for me.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">So last week, with the High School group, in our series on justice, we were ready for the concept of Jubilee. This idea from Leviticus 25 is that everyone has access to a means of caring for themselves through their access to land, and no one has the power to permanently take access away from any other person. If someone has hard things happen and they need to sell their land, or even become a servant for another, it is temporary. People cannot buy land. They can buy a limited number of harvests, after which the land returns to the original owner in the year of Jubilee.</p><p style="text-align: center;">In Sunday School, we talked about what it can mean in our world to make sure everyone has a way to provide for themselves. We talked about land ownership of stolen land, because we are in an agricultural state. We talked about taxes on groceries, and Food Banks, and changing motels to studio apartments for persons needing homes and fresh starts. I don't know if the youth came home with new or renewed insights, but I did.</p><p style="text-align: center;">* * * * *</p><p style="text-align: center;">Now I've gone off on a tangent instead of writing about my observations from November blogging. The thing I'm coming to is this. Pandemic life has impacted the amount of time when I am stretched in ways that force me to learn. <span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">If I'm not learning, I have little worth sharing.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * * * *</p><p style="text-align: center;">One writing thing opportunity during the pandemic was writing for the current issue of Rejoice. I was assigned the first week of February, which is Black history month. Sammie Simmons consented to read my writing and offer suggestions and corrections to my writing, and his input, honesty, and kindness were invaluable. I am grateful.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfYG_9xadF9gx0__QOKmUgGAfAnkiHQxmK3aBSg3fIrVTnSm1ljZ_ybxHvrji2IYvfBleS01__f4y78mGQa57buCSy2pKQCm_ex2YULIQDSYHlE7vyS6ir0F5baIfUVKESPPHVJg/s4096/IMG_20211130_205849415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="2702" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfYG_9xadF9gx0__QOKmUgGAfAnkiHQxmK3aBSg3fIrVTnSm1ljZ_ybxHvrji2IYvfBleS01__f4y78mGQa57buCSy2pKQCm_ex2YULIQDSYHlE7vyS6ir0F5baIfUVKESPPHVJg/w422-h640/IMG_20211130_205849415.jpg" width="422" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The writing for this issue was stretching. It always is, but it felt more so this time, and I lost a lot of sleep while doing the study and research for the week. Having Sammie respond to my first devotional with clear and honest suggestions for changes gave me courage, rather than shame. He was not hesitant to tell me when I was on the wrong track, and I am so grateful.</p><p style="text-align: center;">* * * * *</p><p style="text-align: center;">I've often quit blogging after November. Maybe this year I'll try to keep up some regular posting, even though blogging is on its way out.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-27183413908591781742021-11-18T22:05:00.000-06:002021-11-18T22:05:42.023-06:00Work Thoughts<p style="text-align: center;"> I had the opportunity to substitute for the church secretary today, which meant that for an entire day, I had a list in front of me of items that had to be done today </p><p style="text-align: center;">AND </p><p style="text-align: center;">I had been taught how to do them </p><p style="text-align: center;">AND </p><p style="text-align: center;">if I forgot how to do them, I knew where to look up the instructions again.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I came home knowing I'd done something worth doing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">As soon as I got home, I took a walk so I could enjoy the sunset.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ke3OdLg639_4x5mZsvArDRuzs7-W2RR93XVdXBXafSg8wBMGZlaam66HjT_qO3Mjm7ItEcaCGC5dR7wOUo5AMEss8ohUvI6Gvxi1bPupI7g4FrYZOUFiKAPFyutO2r-3H6BUGQ/s4096/IMG_20211118_171212703_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ke3OdLg639_4x5mZsvArDRuzs7-W2RR93XVdXBXafSg8wBMGZlaam66HjT_qO3Mjm7ItEcaCGC5dR7wOUo5AMEss8ohUvI6Gvxi1bPupI7g4FrYZOUFiKAPFyutO2r-3H6BUGQ/w640-h480/IMG_20211118_171212703_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I have to admit that most days I don't end the day feeling that I did something worth doing. What is it about a job with clear expectations and an hourly commitment that makes it easier for me to stay motivated and energized than when I work at home?<p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I wonder about personality types. I have friends who can't wait for their days off because they have so many things they want to do in that time at home. And when they get to those days off, they actually do the things they have been anticipating, instead of chilling out and feeling like they deserve a rest. It is not that they are unable to rest, or that they are workaholics. For them, the work they choose to do for themselves is as energizing as the work they do for their living.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My mom was like that. So was my dad. They seemed to always have the energy and motivation to do the next thing on the list. That doesn't seem to be hereditary, although I think my siblings have some of that motivation.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Learning about the enneagram has given me some self empathy, because there are many ways of being. Some of us naturally move toward accomplishment. Some of us naturally move toward introspection. Some of us know right away what we want. Some of us find choices difficult because we see positives in all the options. It isn't that one is worse than the other. The world needs all of us. But the trick is to somehow capitalize on our strengths, while recognizing and working at the areas where we are weaker. That is a life long process, I think.</p><p style="text-align: center;">At any rate, when I came home, I chose to walk, and not work, even though there is work to do and I would feel good to have it done. I feel good about walking as well. I got to see this.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTjI4NysXVmhfChvOeFGk8SFvZ0zfCsG5KUp3WWGNe0KYqDPf4yQHjnkl5lRBA4a9Yqa94S0kk7mI5Py3P84XF_NRu9mMPsQ9WhwLyMeZjA6VMcPM5LYmotC76HHmEKzxhgZK0Q/s4096/IMG_20211118_171212703_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTjI4NysXVmhfChvOeFGk8SFvZ0zfCsG5KUp3WWGNe0KYqDPf4yQHjnkl5lRBA4a9Yqa94S0kk7mI5Py3P84XF_NRu9mMPsQ9WhwLyMeZjA6VMcPM5LYmotC76HHmEKzxhgZK0Q/w640-h480/IMG_20211118_171212703_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">and this</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVA-l1OMiJfJ7nd5FkxnXVBJkK-sA6mrzvFEPmWEGB51jj5DUKfvvrvWi-HweDM_EOImvn5dAMWXvWX8VZuJu_xn_O6-awzLU_gMQqGD7Sn6OW7UcKx0OkjILwAsqtdE3GZKseQ/s4096/IMG_20211118_172204940_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVA-l1OMiJfJ7nd5FkxnXVBJkK-sA6mrzvFEPmWEGB51jj5DUKfvvrvWi-HweDM_EOImvn5dAMWXvWX8VZuJu_xn_O6-awzLU_gMQqGD7Sn6OW7UcKx0OkjILwAsqtdE3GZKseQ/w480-h640/IMG_20211118_172204940_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">While I was at work today, I enjoyed good conversations. I was in a space where important things were being done, and there was time for relationship alongside the work. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I want to figure out the balance. The taking time to prioritize people is important, as well as getting things done when I can so that it is easy to say yes to people, because those other things are in the schedule and will get done.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And I want to keep having time for walks, and sunsets, and moonlight.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqhlBuDVLPxhZObH9w9DEg49ZiSKYb9R80mw0U97jz9cSH-eLxFIWyp3oh6yz2LR5d_n0EUSHObG1ePTz1k1yOwF9OEL-VoviFj5I9wH1XhRUzppRFgGC7G1A6tkO32bJRtA5og/s4096/IMG_20211118_173539792_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqhlBuDVLPxhZObH9w9DEg49ZiSKYb9R80mw0U97jz9cSH-eLxFIWyp3oh6yz2LR5d_n0EUSHObG1ePTz1k1yOwF9OEL-VoviFj5I9wH1XhRUzppRFgGC7G1A6tkO32bJRtA5og/w640-h480/IMG_20211118_173539792_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zkcJHmQvMVTw0kFcF1B-Ll42QyF-RuhCqUDq0zGUTKuBQ4vVksQ-CW76jEYLPjdzQ_MLNdKJ023cjXLQZiB4lPgJzvVtLDCWz-aqIX3IfCEbNWH2-RaW1GrQ5zPNMqORyVoKMw/s4096/IMG_20211118_173458714_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zkcJHmQvMVTw0kFcF1B-Ll42QyF-RuhCqUDq0zGUTKuBQ4vVksQ-CW76jEYLPjdzQ_MLNdKJ023cjXLQZiB4lPgJzvVtLDCWz-aqIX3IfCEbNWH2-RaW1GrQ5zPNMqORyVoKMw/w480-h640/IMG_20211118_173458714_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-5138259558301393442021-11-09T23:25:00.000-06:002021-11-09T23:25:04.792-06:00Learning<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">Once I was a homeschooler.</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">Always, I've been a learner,</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but all of us are, whether we realize it or not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm a bit addicted to it, wanting to have something to listen to while I'm working, and something to read when I'm not working. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anyway, this fall I've had the privilege of hanging out with a nephew once a week, and it gives me a chance to give in to all the things I would be doing if I were homeschooling again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This week he played with some of the toys I'd found in the basement and cleaned up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We romped in the back yard with the dog, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and my nephew learned to play a game with the dog that involved hiding treats. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">We used items from recyling.</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I found some brown wrapping paper that had been used as packing material, and we taped it to cover a table for us to do some art. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My nephew drew places where gnomes might live. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I drew some wildly colored flowers patterned after some art I'd seen in celebration of Diwali.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">We are not busy all the time.</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes we just sat and watched things, and often those are the best learning times. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were hanging out near the driveway when we noticed a grasshopper moving across the driveway. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The conversation turned to how its back legs were long and bent the opposite way our legs bend, so that it could jump better. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">And then we moved on to ladybugs and how different they are than grasshoppers.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My nephew wondered about the wings of a ladybug. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We found a video of a ladybug opening it's back shell parts to allow transluscent black wings to unfold and fly it wherever it needed to go. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then those wings needed to be refolded to fit under the red and black shell again. The ladybug used its back feet to help tuck those wings in properly.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was fascinating!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When we went back up to the porch, we began seeing ladybugs. We counted dots and found they were different. But why so many ladybugs on the porch?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNk_V_sx-5CHZe4YRtCWgzIkVl1EuMKJNOPnFO852G2JKszu2EAxQod3mnqthhTTAJW9B6UJ_Sc0A0ljFpafNXkQGJFk2XW9OjAD2azzI-B7kaM5oEN4RFFjm_6Sw167lbdGDcFA/s4096/IMG_20211108_130311383_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNk_V_sx-5CHZe4YRtCWgzIkVl1EuMKJNOPnFO852G2JKszu2EAxQod3mnqthhTTAJW9B6UJ_Sc0A0ljFpafNXkQGJFk2XW9OjAD2azzI-B7kaM5oEN4RFFjm_6Sw167lbdGDcFA/w480-h640/IMG_20211108_130311383_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">Were they migrating?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I pulled out my phone again and together we discovered that ladybugs really don't migrate, at least not long distances. They find a place nearby where they are less likely to freeze, and they hibernate. Near a building that is heated is a very good spot. Then they gather there and keep each other warm near that building.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That would explain why the ladybugs were on the front porch, but not on the driveway.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPhpfraMGu9KYtZDi6-uwOdvX_x3oIIfDZEg0h5hlsTFfPjhAHUPDLjD9_3ivAVpRuW7WBFlSZ2_XlSnJ57aIJ63kAW_IxcKG2xlZfYDu1bY8y0hxHseHSSvGfTl3yBfLtlbLQw/s4096/IMG_20211108_130305967_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPhpfraMGu9KYtZDi6-uwOdvX_x3oIIfDZEg0h5hlsTFfPjhAHUPDLjD9_3ivAVpRuW7WBFlSZ2_XlSnJ57aIJ63kAW_IxcKG2xlZfYDu1bY8y0hxHseHSSvGfTl3yBfLtlbLQw/w480-h640/IMG_20211108_130305967_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">My nephew started catching them and wanted to collect some, so we went back to recycling to find a jar with a lid. We poked some holes for air flow and then he delighted in seeing how many he could capture. His intention was to show his parents and then to release them again.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaTAHo397fLT9VAo6Y47_7N5feV2ImmLJpNPhcb0HllGdhNj4rqkGVkEyRe9840ikYOAO67cPINKV62paUTloQfew9px8Yu7wwHaL5fXhj7315dZUyq1zKJfQCvBf9aQ3m_gt-g/s4096/IMG_20211108_130304149_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaTAHo397fLT9VAo6Y47_7N5feV2ImmLJpNPhcb0HllGdhNj4rqkGVkEyRe9840ikYOAO67cPINKV62paUTloQfew9px8Yu7wwHaL5fXhj7315dZUyq1zKJfQCvBf9aQ3m_gt-g/w480-h640/IMG_20211108_130304149_MP.jpg" width="480" /><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaTAHo397fLT9VAo6Y47_7N5feV2ImmLJpNPhcb0HllGdhNj4rqkGVkEyRe9840ikYOAO67cPINKV62paUTloQfew9px8Yu7wwHaL5fXhj7315dZUyq1zKJfQCvBf9aQ3m_gt-g/s4096/IMG_20211108_130304149_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">At one point, I told him this was science.</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were learning about nature, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and asking questions, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">observing, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">looking for answers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">It's not just science, though.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">I</span>t's life. It's faith. It is how we learn to know ourselves, each other, God.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is wondering.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is asking good questions</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">searching for true answers</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">which lead us to even better questions.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today my nephew has not been here, but there are still questions to understand.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These are the some that have come up today for me about</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">Vaccine mandates</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I heard a clip this morning where someone stated that many countries do not mandate vaccines, even for their school age children. They gave the example of England, among others. I was skeptical, so I checked the internet for countries without vaccine mandates. I found a site that had a color coded map, with colors for contries that do mandate vaccines, countries that mandate vaccines for children in school, countries that recommend vaccines, and countries who either do not mandate or their status is unknown. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://ourworldindata.org/childhood-vaccination-policies" target="_blank">Click here for the link.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There are a lot of countries that do not mandate vaccines, even for children in school.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So now I have more questions. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If there is not a rule to rebel against, how does that change the health status of the majority of people? What are the positive and negative aspects of having a mandate...or of not having a mandate? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I was parenting, did it work better to set hard and fast rules, or to discuss issues and then trust the kids to make decisions? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Is parenting a terrible analogy? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What analogy could be better?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But the bigger question in this particular issue is even before the vaccine was a question, there was still the more basic question of how we learn to understand each other. I don't have a color coded map that can help with that question.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have a sense that even this question is still not getting to the heart of the matter,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the place we can find truth,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but it is enough wondering for today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Finally, something that brought me joy. We planted two maple trees the year after our fathers died. This is the one that Chuck chose. It is at it's peak right now.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWo4ziiS_ENffy_WUKVBifn_3GD32M5hh1u_WASmr5Z3hd6P-saKHdWgvFvaNOYuFQNtp-SxjcIci3RViFY5FKnzpWHHxtBsoUgq67NFLmCNHMLpOtgZWEa3XI5FF-dME3_om79g/s4096/IMG_20211108_144818001_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWo4ziiS_ENffy_WUKVBifn_3GD32M5hh1u_WASmr5Z3hd6P-saKHdWgvFvaNOYuFQNtp-SxjcIci3RViFY5FKnzpWHHxtBsoUgq67NFLmCNHMLpOtgZWEa3XI5FF-dME3_om79g/w480-h640/IMG_20211108_144818001_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-14852779260517145562021-11-07T22:39:00.000-06:002021-11-07T22:39:05.997-06:00Four sermons, worship music X three, two walks<p style="text-align: center;"> I'm not attending Sunday School right now, except when I teach the high school class. I love our class and the people in it, but honestly, the covid pandemic has made me uncomfortable in a very full room, even when we are all masked. The high school class is never a full room, and is also all masked, so it feels good.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Anyway, I often listen to church online, and this morning I started early with listening to just the sermons from the last two weeks. I had heard them already, but knew they had lessons I wanted to hear again, so I did that during Sunday School. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Then I went to be in person at church today. Not sure why I wanted to be in person at church, but we are spaced out well and it feels more comfortable. </p><p style="text-align: center;">And then there was a take-away from the sermon that I needed to hear again. The sermon was from Philippians, and mentioned the words, "work out your own salvation". In the sermon, Pastor Laura said this was not about creating your own salvation, but about living out the salvation you have already received, embodying it in your daily life. Such a good way of thinking this through! So this afternoon I listened again. And also listened to all the music again, twice!</p><p style="text-align: center;">We took a walk after church because there are so many beautiful trees near our church.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJ1ybASuEAkZPKHdLVXBMJsKBxkoJVmR0aY3Z8yH5HWelmxXppIp59QDQ9T6sVDA-7QjSU4XjK4tcdz4fnfNx8opbSwuRdzcGSX7MhNEq8XjANkFMwAFLwwJoaLFfuUO5Q2DeMQ/s4608/IMG_20211107_125920427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJ1ybASuEAkZPKHdLVXBMJsKBxkoJVmR0aY3Z8yH5HWelmxXppIp59QDQ9T6sVDA-7QjSU4XjK4tcdz4fnfNx8opbSwuRdzcGSX7MhNEq8XjANkFMwAFLwwJoaLFfuUO5Q2DeMQ/w480-h640/IMG_20211107_125920427.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sugar maple?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not sure why I'm so ready to hear sermons right now. There is something worthy about taking the time to wrestle with the truth and then tell what you learned. That is what I believe a sermon is...someone's effort to gain wisdom and then to share what they learned through stories as well as reasoning. That wrestling is what I do when I write devotionals. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm reading <u>Wholehearted Faith</u>, the last book by Rachel Held Evans and Jeff Chu. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51ty02WGPTS._SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_FMwebp_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="196" height="400" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51ty02WGPTS._SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_FMwebp_.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">In it we learn that Rachel had the message, "Tell the truth" posted on the bulletin board near the place she did her writing. She worked hard at that, fought for it, and wouldn't settle for less. It is what I expect and what I receive from those whose sermons I listen to more than once. It is what I hope to do when I write, as well.</div><p style="text-align: center;">We took another walk this afternoon before supper and again absorbed the autumn beauty. This was on the North Newton bike path.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gbNlnSm3zzXFpWPXLZPyRd5zXZKuYqAvLykdqWd71rBW4lTlePXZhVlYRK64eQv_cQBe7PX7b61KMSkQnfOkPgjREOC4S9I765UB4whpRTAGjvQvZ3KegNbuPwTB6_8v_SX7ZQ/s4096/IMG_20211107_173046575_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gbNlnSm3zzXFpWPXLZPyRd5zXZKuYqAvLykdqWd71rBW4lTlePXZhVlYRK64eQv_cQBe7PX7b61KMSkQnfOkPgjREOC4S9I765UB4whpRTAGjvQvZ3KegNbuPwTB6_8v_SX7ZQ/w480-h640/IMG_20211107_173046575_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdG8Qs3kUArHqH01pumt1fNNIeFABojKBbTNYOXcJhPLjFy9sNaGrsh2obqGlTF0mdSBHMDjkOaITCfVYAqGX1yLwaTfy9tViWaqwQ9nCxOR1nhChVC_iXm9hYRbqSZzYYlo6_w/s4096/IMG_20211107_173117921_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdG8Qs3kUArHqH01pumt1fNNIeFABojKBbTNYOXcJhPLjFy9sNaGrsh2obqGlTF0mdSBHMDjkOaITCfVYAqGX1yLwaTfy9tViWaqwQ9nCxOR1nhChVC_iXm9hYRbqSZzYYlo6_w/w480-h640/IMG_20211107_173117921_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">There are lots of delightful additions to the foliage.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIQhKSXoTnmPsbwALNyYwfX16Yf-6Sy3M3GFCI0AjgJd6OljJJsyrizxYZfCBIHZMlULv7NJAqILElY6O_H4lx-dVxR9hSUPsonryDMtXxX40PZskJ_xk29hdxM-tQe8EL8aobA/s4096/IMG_20211107_173214567_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIQhKSXoTnmPsbwALNyYwfX16Yf-6Sy3M3GFCI0AjgJd6OljJJsyrizxYZfCBIHZMlULv7NJAqILElY6O_H4lx-dVxR9hSUPsonryDMtXxX40PZskJ_xk29hdxM-tQe8EL8aobA/w480-h640/IMG_20211107_173214567_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJtxOyblFcdmuo9pOxgfBgczXHqzAR2aIfdTh5r_yGqX5kz3V2XksmlotELAcYa30_JuBnbKwl-h6MGgOQdaNFY02k2cQsY8ggd568b8GBDyhb8q32BsR-tZlmXR1dRnPY_9H2Q/s4096/IMG_20211107_173707804_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJtxOyblFcdmuo9pOxgfBgczXHqzAR2aIfdTh5r_yGqX5kz3V2XksmlotELAcYa30_JuBnbKwl-h6MGgOQdaNFY02k2cQsY8ggd568b8GBDyhb8q32BsR-tZlmXR1dRnPY_9H2Q/w480-h640/IMG_20211107_173707804_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">And finally, this evening, we listened to wisdom and truth from Valerie Kaur, Sister Simone Campbell, and Van Jones about how to listen well to those who hold opposing views. (and I got a little re-knitting in.)</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-91971316863385133912021-11-06T22:51:00.000-05:002021-11-06T22:51:02.716-05:00Sunset walk<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3rf0YMY3E3hi4zJfwkjsm5IJx4miyg3jVf62lmoZshX3FKk4wH3eI9TC6TI1NOM6TCtZr5fpsIdG0CvQ0V6gMt3E7C-Ohd78gQEiSIXE5b4KjvxCdtBT5bMMpxGcNY2yDqfuEw/s4096/IMG_20211106_181827130_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3rf0YMY3E3hi4zJfwkjsm5IJx4miyg3jVf62lmoZshX3FKk4wH3eI9TC6TI1NOM6TCtZr5fpsIdG0CvQ0V6gMt3E7C-Ohd78gQEiSIXE5b4KjvxCdtBT5bMMpxGcNY2yDqfuEw/w640-h480/IMG_20211106_181827130_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div style="text-align: center;">last light on autumn grass</div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I wish it was as simple to enjoy a beautiful home as it is to walk outdoors and enjoy a beautiful sunset.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our house needs work, and today someone came to look at our foundation. That means that we got rid of things that have lived in the basement for years, untouched. I needed a dust mask to sweep the floor as it is not a regularly used space, but rather a repository for things that are not often used.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I didn't throw away the empty canning jars, or the canner, even though I haven't used it in a few years. We got rid of empty boxes, old light fixtures, and so much miscellaneous stuff that we once thought we might use someday, or we just didn't know what to do with it and added it to the basement collection of things to decide later (whenever that is). How long must something sit on a warped ping pong table before we know we are not going to use it anymore? </p><p style="text-align: center;">How long do you a keep a warped ping pong table? </p><p style="text-align: center;">I've got a stack of things to clean and donate. That feels good. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0UhE6HbwBwJh146nDiJeWyzxGpyE2mt7jY4AI-Qo5iNVxGF-XgRB82OMTAxGqs7MRBmsBEWsXtRZSh2eAF54uB-qQ8fr3SWEx082AhemAsE7zbPu-u9C4mhr3tmjq3eXEEXHT9A/s4096/IMG_20211106_182452033_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0UhE6HbwBwJh146nDiJeWyzxGpyE2mt7jY4AI-Qo5iNVxGF-XgRB82OMTAxGqs7MRBmsBEWsXtRZSh2eAF54uB-qQ8fr3SWEx082AhemAsE7zbPu-u9C4mhr3tmjq3eXEEXHT9A/w640-h480/IMG_20211106_182452033_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">Sunset through the autumn grasses</p><p style="text-align: center;">This house is over one hundred years old, and it is built on a cinder block foundation. The mortar between the cinder blocks on some of the walls is disappearing, crumbling away. The walls are no longer straight, but have kind of a precarious look. Some cracks are quite large. We found out some options for fixing that. In the process, a lot of stuff left our basement. Some things got cleaned up to be donated. The burn pile is bigger.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1cdXM29CSzabIwfk-e-c2CdRKR0yZN7IwBIMCgi9AdkQs99OWrS1ZMoDwd5e8vKfJww1YkhaOrdYqXFkJnC-waOQG9mCGw-VD9L5ekSbSZinGIaxj39ZPnhpG1_aSz6VG_o2pQ/s4096/IMG_20211106_183351932_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1cdXM29CSzabIwfk-e-c2CdRKR0yZN7IwBIMCgi9AdkQs99OWrS1ZMoDwd5e8vKfJww1YkhaOrdYqXFkJnC-waOQG9mCGw-VD9L5ekSbSZinGIaxj39ZPnhpG1_aSz6VG_o2pQ/w640-h480/IMG_20211106_183351932_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">Last color</p><p style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow the time changes away from daylight savings time, which means I will have to get out early to catch the sunset. Right now I can go downstairs and enjoy the empty and cleaner space, the fruit of our labor. It is work that should have been done long ago, and I'm glad it is done now. </p><p style="text-align: center;">But looking over that accomplishment does not compare to walking at sunset, just me and the dog and the gentle breeze.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-67527357086128461212021-11-04T23:32:00.000-05:002021-11-04T23:32:53.683-05:00Book Review: The Ninefold Path of Jesus, by Mark Scandrette<p style="text-align: center;"> I recently read <u>The Ninefold Path of Jesus: Hidden Wisdom of the Beatitudes</u> by Mark Scandrette. </p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41JngaRKZwL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="357" height="500" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41JngaRKZwL.jpg" width="357" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">It is a book of spiritual disciplines based on the beatitudes. Scandrette believes the beatitudes, lived out honestly and humbly, are a set of practices that bring us much closer to the life Jesus desires for all who desire true faith. Scandrette gives a chapter to each beatitude, both simplifying it in order to make it easy to remember, and broadening it to show how applicable it is throughout all parts of our lives.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I find it appealing to have a memorable step by step plan for bringing my life in line with my highest values. Scandrette does not make it an easy discipline to check off and then feel smug and self-righteous. It is a hard work discipline. </p><p style="text-align: center;">An example is in the chapter on "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy". Scandrette does not only address the times when we have been harmed and offer mercy. He also addresses coming clean about when we need mercy, need to admit we have caused harm, and take steps to make things right. He offers examples from his own life. </p><p style="text-align: center;">He suggests that the best way to study this book is with a group of people who commit to meeting weekly and following the disciplines for nine weeks, one week for each of the beatitudes. He teaches postures that go with the nine beatitudes that make it easier to pray them and to check in with yourself and God about each one.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I don't want to suggest that this is the only or best way to grow in faith and discipline. There are likely flaws with any formula, especially if you rely too much on the formula and too little on humbly recognizing that God is bigger and better than we can comprehend. But if you are looking for a new faith practice, this looks like a good one.</p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-14223528404074525342021-11-04T00:10:00.000-05:002021-11-04T00:10:59.888-05:00Begin Again, Better<p style="text-align: center;"> Last summer, right before vacation started, I was doing the pre-trip shopping and decided to give in to an impulse to buy yarn for a new sweater. I stopped in at the local yarn shop and when the owner asked what I wanted, I told her I wanted to knit a sweater in DK weight yarn, and maybe it could be a cardigan. That is pretty broad, but she was up to the task and showed me many options, along with samples of how those yarns looked when knit into a project.</p><p style="text-align: center;">There were so many good options, but a cotton/linen knubby yarn caught my attention. Then I needed to choose a color. The grandchildren know that when we are playing a game like Sorry or Monopoly, I always choose yellow. But I have never made anything for myself in that color. This yarn came in a beautiful goldenrod color, and I bought enough for a cardigan.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3Mv4hk7T6nuOh9nuOY_mxUz3ajaiLfY4q__dCgPLqUadtoqYH7UaOLWAat6YlyqHUshUCMrsxX6w0OAhdGPVAi90oksR-C4recxvxRQ-Ly3g7AenBtWA0fJ6k8DB__4zkXknfg/s4096/IMG_20211103_231901769_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3Mv4hk7T6nuOh9nuOY_mxUz3ajaiLfY4q__dCgPLqUadtoqYH7UaOLWAat6YlyqHUshUCMrsxX6w0OAhdGPVAi90oksR-C4recxvxRQ-Ly3g7AenBtWA0fJ6k8DB__4zkXknfg/w329-h400/IMG_20211103_231901769_MP.jpg" width="329" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Before the trip I searched through patterns until I found one I loved. It was paid for, downloaded, printed, and in page protectors in a sturdy three ring binder long before my clothes were packed.</p><p style="text-align: center;">As we drove, I knitted swatches with different sizes of needles until I had the right size to get the correct number of stitches per inch. I often knit too tightly and rarely can use the size of needles suggested in the pattern, so checking this is important.</p><p style="text-align: center;">By the time we were at the camp site I had cast on and begun the sweater. I knitted while we listened to audio books, or when we took long breaks to enjoy the scenery.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-m_-GLWBfCBlgQX8g3IZIETSebB8-5DU437AZYkj3X90VxLZPZAe-9YbXBoroAnuXy0RekCKjHC8Fd2qNxN_HuF7SexY5z5XgC19Xz5PDZe6BBtd_lE7cjm4rjRtnJMWRCHYrA/s4096/IMG_20210803_160851692_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-m_-GLWBfCBlgQX8g3IZIETSebB8-5DU437AZYkj3X90VxLZPZAe-9YbXBoroAnuXy0RekCKjHC8Fd2qNxN_HuF7SexY5z5XgC19Xz5PDZe6BBtd_lE7cjm4rjRtnJMWRCHYrA/w480-h640/IMG_20210803_160851692_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">I've continued to work on it since then, sometimes pretty faithfully, and sometimes taking breaks. It has been a challenging pattern, with lace at the borders along the bottom and fronts. I made a lot of mistakes and painstakingly unraveled stitch by stitch, especially on those long bottom lace rows. It was so easy to get involved in the audio book or in conversation and then count wrong by just one stitch, throwing off the lace pattern in an obvious way. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Finally I had the sweater done except for the sleeves. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSUynwFxgbLZl0bVSwzXN6x-hPsE8FeshgukqNzf_JzrOtVTdCEh9rc2Whkxyfy2a5_MdlNVqbVT7YuRaUmOzJ7T3mGPJxyEvhazaUJRrX2maZYCshPq7q2eVTwqzy4P2g5reDg/s4096/IMG_20211103_210519830_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSUynwFxgbLZl0bVSwzXN6x-hPsE8FeshgukqNzf_JzrOtVTdCEh9rc2Whkxyfy2a5_MdlNVqbVT7YuRaUmOzJ7T3mGPJxyEvhazaUJRrX2maZYCshPq7q2eVTwqzy4P2g5reDg/w480-h640/IMG_20211103_210519830_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">And it doesn't fit. It is too small.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have tried to convince myself that aggressive blocking will redeem the sweater, but I wasn't truly convinced. This evening while talking with one of my daughters, she gently told me that I already knew what I had to do. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So I've done it. First I checked again to see if I was getting the correct number of stitches per inch. I was off, still knitting too tightly. The problem was in the choice of needles and not in the pattern, which is good, because I still want to use this pattern.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tmwchEfLddftI0Cfo1TNy32dXVZj4uNlNG7cMYZBmRasaujv1karR6hD-5dMmMm8yhk-zSFK_LPT3Dv_WifnQ1J9Tk6lMMgD44QVmgqhxrSI86sK5cwLFbz3s9b_0xoSFX_zug/s4096/IMG_20211103_230449727_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tmwchEfLddftI0Cfo1TNy32dXVZj4uNlNG7cMYZBmRasaujv1karR6hD-5dMmMm8yhk-zSFK_LPT3Dv_WifnQ1J9Tk6lMMgD44QVmgqhxrSI86sK5cwLFbz3s9b_0xoSFX_zug/w480-h640/IMG_20211103_230449727_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow I will start again.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Actually, I've done this before, making a lot of progress on a sweater before realizing I did not like it or it wasn't fitting the way I thought it would. It hasn't been as difficult to start again then as it was this time. But the joy of knitting is both the process and the result. I love making something beautiful. I love wearing what I made. I just won't be wearing it as soon as I'd originally thought.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Beginning again better seems to apply to more than sweaters. There is a phrase that is often used when talking about justice: When you learn better, do better.</p><p style="text-align: center;">With a sweater, there isn't shame or embarrassment attached to starting again, better. I have nothing to prove and nothing to gain by continuing with a sweater that will never fit me. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Admitting I'm wrong and starting again with other things is harder. Trying things when I might fail is scarier. Maybe it is not too late to learn to do that better as well.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-88829432562589375682021-11-02T19:37:00.001-05:002021-11-02T19:47:37.953-05:00National Blog Posting Month, late start, and old words...<p style="text-align: center;">Does anyone blog in November anymore? I guess I still do.</p><p style="text-align: center;">November is here and I missed the first day of a month of blog posts. That seems to be par for the course for me this year. Another year of pandemic with our county still in the red zone and our schools still mostly unmasked. I may get into that more in another post...or not. We'll see. But the continued caution added to reality of other world and national problems has taken a hit on my ability to get myself going to do the things that are important. Is it important for me to write? Maybe not, but possibly a month of writing will do something for me that a year of not writing has not accomplished. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The rest of this post was written in September and never posted. It's rewritten a bit to acknowlege that it is old. I may post twice today in order to get up to speed.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Walnut Valley Festival weekend happened a month and a half ago. The pandemic has kept me home for the last two years. I bought a streaming ticket this year, so I sat in front of my television, my computer casting the concerts to my Chromecast, and wore my tie dye dress while I watched John McCutcheon, Tom Chapin, Steel Wheels, and others.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMHo75_N8Vs-mac8GuFoWxXeEgCV9yFPXR6ree4yJ73ogetg8DzeKi5nVx4cEess6fVFCsKLmX3SH48uR9sdbUPsX_2En9mGkAdN0a5_Jx2Cked0EdV-OP9nWYHOokzn6xlJ3hQ/s3264/IMG_20210918_195257001_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMHo75_N8Vs-mac8GuFoWxXeEgCV9yFPXR6ree4yJ73ogetg8DzeKi5nVx4cEess6fVFCsKLmX3SH48uR9sdbUPsX_2En9mGkAdN0a5_Jx2Cked0EdV-OP9nWYHOokzn6xlJ3hQ/w480-h640/IMG_20210918_195257001_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjABFu73rPmmUGRhL3h-3un-gkW7Rm35EvneJqD_oVgikiA242oU6_kJJJz_9BzYLmUbBPmJBch6jNv7S_k8gCA2NM-KOy1i7biC5h6LJU0u2qnTMVHwDTE42ly-i32_qYVLmiKsg/s4096/IMG_20210917_224534321_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjABFu73rPmmUGRhL3h-3un-gkW7Rm35EvneJqD_oVgikiA242oU6_kJJJz_9BzYLmUbBPmJBch6jNv7S_k8gCA2NM-KOy1i7biC5h6LJU0u2qnTMVHwDTE42ly-i32_qYVLmiKsg/w640-h480/IMG_20210917_224534321_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I found it harder to miss the festival than I expected. When the image came up on the screen and the accoustic instruments started playing on that familiar stage, and I wasn't in a low chair right up near the front, the tears came unbidden. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I know it was partly because of this year was the 20th anniversary of the terrorism attack, and that was one of the most emotional trips to the Walnut Valley Festival I can remember. We went to the Festival that year, even though the world had changed. It seemed sacreligious to be there in some ways, but it turned out to be important. Somehow being in a huge gathering of people who were all stunned and afraid and grieving and confused and angry and all the other emotions...being in that space together was a way to process. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">There is so much to process now as well, but I'm not able to sink into a collective sense of being emotionally together this year. This year we are so decidedly NOT together. We are divided and angry. And that is another reason for the tears, I think.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But it was also partly that the festival has been the thing that resets me most years. I used to go on Wednesday and it would take until about Friday morning before I was able to truly relax and just be in the space without worrying about who was playing where and what I might be missing. I would get into a sense of being present, grateful, peaceful. I can't get to that place in one day, so going out for just one day never appealed to me much. I haven't found another way to reach that state of being. It is time to figure out the other ways I can access that without relying on a yearly event I might not be able to attend.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">* * * * *</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I wrote this, we were cutting corn, and the sows were having their babies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0XlE_gUWYPVjPTLIE2TeeBJR1Glx_bNXHNtceixZSX7OWPl8RIU7HcF9rue_Zg0V1vc5vHG3lFkJe-hgF9Mimhq7MbkP8fmYmXDOqy0Ftdvg_r_3v94zcevKgvHTtJPyO6rgRw/s4608/IMG_20211003_122624648_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0XlE_gUWYPVjPTLIE2TeeBJR1Glx_bNXHNtceixZSX7OWPl8RIU7HcF9rue_Zg0V1vc5vHG3lFkJe-hgF9Mimhq7MbkP8fmYmXDOqy0Ftdvg_r_3v94zcevKgvHTtJPyO6rgRw/w640-h480/IMG_20211003_122624648_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That isn't a good time to be away for our farm, and over the years Chuck has had to skip a lot of the festival because of the urgency of farm work. This year he still had to skip a lot more than I did, but it wasn't quite the same as when I left Harvey County and spent time in Winfield with family and friends while he was home, working.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The corn was ripe, as I mentioned. We never used to plant corn. It didn't grow well in Kansas. But things change and the field across the road has corn in it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There is an aesthetic difference between corn and wheat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wheat is the first thing green in the spring, brilliant green, the promise of summer. As it grows, it changes incrementally. Beginning like an emerald field of grass, it stretches into softly waving leaves. When the flag leaf appears, the plants briefly look spikey, until the heads of grain emerge and ripen. The field is softly golden, and whispers when the wind moves over it. A farming friend used to say it is ready when all the field is gold and every head is bowed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHpBGA8JCfzHdSYrtTx4ciC2WQeH3MSafBpPu7H_hZ1_gnyQG3jBYb_TPyoQQsOybS_ul3M4vY-vwy3rMjI2DvcKfNOrhvnPw9L-7sI5JXTtSyAw1KNCyulhwSFeRSiX-yudWSQ/s3232/IMG_20190622_202533179.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2424" data-original-width="3232" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHpBGA8JCfzHdSYrtTx4ciC2WQeH3MSafBpPu7H_hZ1_gnyQG3jBYb_TPyoQQsOybS_ul3M4vY-vwy3rMjI2DvcKfNOrhvnPw9L-7sI5JXTtSyAw1KNCyulhwSFeRSiX-yudWSQ/w640-h480/IMG_20190622_202533179.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This pic is from another year when we did have corn across the road.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Corn has the same intense green as it comes up and grows, but instead of becoming more beautiful through every stage, it gets less attractive, until at the end, it is a field of very tall plant skeletons blocking the view of the horizon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the field across the road.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjav4FGq-apcN0sL9spi8mF1DJ_uuh3V69gRTcG4sludlKgbZjfnSTc2Zb1ja8Kr0Xf9cOGpvBGRlu39E5P30eLj_7qKkTuyKk-qedUGf6_0fohDwHEn5G5AM-Y1dEodTH6pQiGnQ/s4096/IMG_20210914_082951714_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjav4FGq-apcN0sL9spi8mF1DJ_uuh3V69gRTcG4sludlKgbZjfnSTc2Zb1ja8Kr0Xf9cOGpvBGRlu39E5P30eLj_7qKkTuyKk-qedUGf6_0fohDwHEn5G5AM-Y1dEodTH6pQiGnQ/w640-h480/IMG_20210914_082951714_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One woman's perspective. Not a universal opinion by any means.</div> </div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p></div>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-70343652108093545142021-01-29T23:05:00.002-06:002021-01-29T23:34:26.257-06:00Kansas Day<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrfKGYgT00XjuVbDczOAvTrLMaEjQPBiem-P3F0fD8329vZnRUpeEVa3I9mAanRzl0mjgLfv7wbclIQhvscAftbYCBEQd_uw59EMm4JTaZBdKr8EUy4rxCRmux6mhHpB-xeVXUw/s4096/IMG_20210116_174316251_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrfKGYgT00XjuVbDczOAvTrLMaEjQPBiem-P3F0fD8329vZnRUpeEVa3I9mAanRzl0mjgLfv7wbclIQhvscAftbYCBEQd_uw59EMm4JTaZBdKr8EUy4rxCRmux6mhHpB-xeVXUw/w640-h480/IMG_20210116_174316251_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Today is Kansas Day, the anniversary of the day Kansas became a state.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The Kindergarten class has been talking about the state symbols:</p><p style="text-align: center;">Buffalo</p><p style="text-align: center;">Meadowlark</p><p style="text-align: center;">Sunflower</p><p style="text-align: center;">Cottonwood</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ornate Box Turtle</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our state song is Home on the Range.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our motto is "Ad astra per aspera" or "To the stars through difficulties".</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2j8HOCCfa_dsMsUIp5KWEWvVgbFjBSTClX4sN9gKH7CxVwgsyrO27AfwoV1iiR15kgNu-10jvJAziNcSY48zir9uyM7_43VMU6JpgHJu7SWtPlrXomnRZkNG1E9g2T1WIPqjmTA/s4096/IMG_20200912_190543149_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2j8HOCCfa_dsMsUIp5KWEWvVgbFjBSTClX4sN9gKH7CxVwgsyrO27AfwoV1iiR15kgNu-10jvJAziNcSY48zir9uyM7_43VMU6JpgHJu7SWtPlrXomnRZkNG1E9g2T1WIPqjmTA/w480-h640/IMG_20200912_190543149_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">When that motto was chosen, I'm guessing that those choosing were referring to difficulties experienced between those who wanted Kansas to be a slave state, and those who wanted Kansas to be a free state. Or they could have referred to the difficulties of beginning a farm in the middle of a vast prairie. I doubt they were acknowledging the unconscionable difficulties they had caused to those who called this land home long before any white people even thought about this place</p><p style="text-align: center;">Before we were a state, or had any state symbols, buffalo roamed freely in huge herds. Meadowlarks sang. The state was mostly grassland crossed by rivers and streams, a land that fed and sheltered several people groups. If I put my home address into a web site that shows who used to live where we now live, I find that the Osage, the Wichita, the Sioux, and the Commanche all may have sustained their lives on the land where I now live. The Kansa group, for which the state was named, lived near here.</p><p style="text-align: center;">By the time our ancestors arrived here, those people groups had all been forcibly moved from this area. Our forbearers were told there was land to farm in Kansas, and that farmers were welcome here. I don't know what they knew about why this land was available to farm. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The Homestead Act was approved in 1862, but the land we live on was not given as a homestead until 1880. It was given by the United States of America and by the President R. B. Hayes, according to the abstract, which shows who first homesteaded on this land. They were given the land in return for a promise to build a home and till land. No money was required for this gift. They lived here for 24 years before selling it to the next family, who lived on it and farmed it for two generations, 55 years. It then was purchased by Chuck's family, who had it for about 11 years before the house and several acres were sold. Seventeen years later, Chuck and I bought it, and we've been here 33 years. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So, we own it, legally, but not spiritually. </p><p style="text-align: center;">What does that even mean?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I know owning land is a big thing. It is an odd thing. This land has been here and will be here regardless of whether we are here. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It is beautiful. It is high ground, so sunrises and sunsets are spectacular on any day it isn't overcast, which is most days. Wild sunflowers will grow anywhere they can find a little open ground to seed themselves. Meadowlarks sit on the electrical wires and sing their amazing songs. It is more than a person can own.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My children grew up here. Me too, in many ways. But it isn't mine. Maybe we belong to it in somehow, but it will be here long after we are gone, and those after us as well.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It seems odd to call this a birthday, when what we commmemorate is based on injustice.</p><p style="text-align: center;">At the same time, it is right to celebrate a place that is so good.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Happy birthday, Kansas, whatever that means. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpgWV2VDc1Ec_ACHZcHH2lX6X_Dnacq7R60IxX3CZoJPkwUnSn17wX8LNPxLlwvFkN0hf6i17OfTA4JR67zQ8QFQwUzLTmkEXOLmwd-R3MB_vTDhVTw9zT-qqTQljrfpY6iYqGQ/s4608/IMG_20200704_205035183.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpgWV2VDc1Ec_ACHZcHH2lX6X_Dnacq7R60IxX3CZoJPkwUnSn17wX8LNPxLlwvFkN0hf6i17OfTA4JR67zQ8QFQwUzLTmkEXOLmwd-R3MB_vTDhVTw9zT-qqTQljrfpY6iYqGQ/w640-h480/IMG_20200704_205035183.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-74818828285791167322021-01-11T22:16:00.000-06:002021-01-11T22:16:28.500-06:00Seeking peace.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhEtiXxZkCRjxb6FUydmcPUxfbN1CYlX2eG98XydBZOJ0tPxlQnemkSe_-ZOYipP7jPI6MbTlojsllt8qPA93HPC6mJU_HFeeIfs6iWXLGWp4kSOfsLDx2CRupW3QEpIPNVfXiQ/s4096/IMG_20210105_173016015_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhEtiXxZkCRjxb6FUydmcPUxfbN1CYlX2eG98XydBZOJ0tPxlQnemkSe_-ZOYipP7jPI6MbTlojsllt8qPA93HPC6mJU_HFeeIfs6iWXLGWp4kSOfsLDx2CRupW3QEpIPNVfXiQ/w640-h480/IMG_20210105_173016015_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've wanted to write.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've had nothing to say.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Last Wednesday's storming of the Capitol Building by white supremacists has made anything I could say seem trite, small, not enough.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've done too much scrolling, trying to find something that gives me hope.</div><div style="text-align: center;">There isn't a lot out there.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And, I'm not up for a rant...although Chuck has heard a few.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We've also cried together at news reports, taken turns lying awake in the night, and tried to make choices to limit the amount of media we will allow into our lives, especially in the evenings.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This morning I began the day by looking at an email that had links to all of Richard Rohr's devotionals from last week. In his <a href="https://cac.org/a-time-of-unveiling-weekly-summary-2021-01-09/" target="_blank">weekly devotional roundup</a>, he always ends with an idea for a spiritual practice. In this email, he recommended a breathing meditation/prayer where, with the inbreath, you allow yourself to remember the things that are difficult. Then, in the outbreath, you offer healing thoughts and prayers specifically for those things you are thinking about. You start with yourself, and then expand out, breathing in and remembering, breathing out and offering hopeful prayers.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then on to <a href="https://yogawithadriene.com/30days/" target="_blank">Yoga with Adriene</a>. I'm a little behind with her 30 days of yoga for this year, so I'm on day three, which includes a focus on ocean breath. In and out through the nose, but with an audible breath, like a strong inhale followed by a long healing sigh. It sounds like waves on a beach. This works really well with the breath prayers I'd already learned earlier. A gift.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQYQRdhyphenhyphenWFS5vKYSVe-5-sTkj9TO8fUf75aAQHSVWOtVm5ACieN-cRkDlgrwz9G3cRo7ZR33dMJm5OSicl72bFZvM1PRZrPXy9Upnc9VvjpsS_FXWpvCSgB3raRalieWkcNUVaA/s2592/IMG_20191008_162406870_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQYQRdhyphenhyphenWFS5vKYSVe-5-sTkj9TO8fUf75aAQHSVWOtVm5ACieN-cRkDlgrwz9G3cRo7ZR33dMJm5OSicl72bFZvM1PRZrPXy9Upnc9VvjpsS_FXWpvCSgB3raRalieWkcNUVaA/w640-h480/IMG_20191008_162406870_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>I moved from that to my devotional, which was on Psalm 131. I have a lot of favorite Psalms. This is one of them.</div><div><br /></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">O Lord, my heart is not lifted up,</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">my eyes are not raised too high;</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">But I have calmed and quieted my soul,</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">liked a weaned child with its mother;</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.</span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">O Israel, hope in the Lord </span></i></div><div><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">from this time forth and forevermore.</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div>This one really got to me. First, understanding these times IS too great for me. I can't grasp all of it. There is so much that needs attention and change and justice and mercy...too much for me to understand.</div><div><br /></div><div>Second, I've been missing Mom especially much these days. I'd like to talk to Mom, ---just hear her voice. I wondered why I missed her so much at the very time I'm so glad she does not have to worry about what is happening in the world right now. But it is the sense of needing to feel OK. Like a weaned child with her mother. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was grateful that these words were chosen for today.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The anxiety and worry isn't gone, </div><div style="text-align: center;">but it feels like I have a strategy to manage it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In the meantime, I've got plenty to read and study.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In the last couple of weeks, without knowing that things were going to blow up in the capitol, </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'd already signed up for a book study as well as a four part training on anti-racism. These are important as we anticipate the impact of emboldened white supremacy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We still get outdoors nearly every day at sunset. The top picture was not taken today, but it was recent. And it is too marvelous for me. So is watching the geese fly overhead. And sharing lunch and conversation with Ben and Daniel on the front porch at noon, and so many things I forget about when I'm too wrapped up in anxiety.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So for today, breathing my prayers, noticing the marvelous, and working on the hard.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-91687008897543052062021-01-01T23:08:00.001-06:002021-01-01T23:08:36.756-06:00Do you want to build a snowman?<p style="text-align: center;"> On this snowy first day of the New Year, we started out rough. I know it seems like people who blog always get along with their families, because I read blogs, and I don't read much about rough spots. But we had one today. It was hard, and we were both trying to communicate honestly and respectfully. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Discord is exhausting, and on top of a late night and and a global hard year, things felt kind of bleak. Naps were taken, and then we began to get photos on facebook messenger. Our grandkids were playing in the snow.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Why not?</p><p style="text-align: center;">So we did. We put boots on Fritz and bundled up to build a snowman in the back yard.</p><p style="text-align: center;">This is a 4-5" snow, and perfect for snow building. We chose the back yard for two reasons. Fritz could run off lead there while we played in the snow, and we could leave the snow untouched in the front yard where it was so beautiful.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDSUHfoEUN-ULpsWEwubJgO5I9Xxu_rVlbIM3nIf3egivC-QR3D6pFzdxYlgJRXR3Y2ZC8XkN7QkbOF41ciTsLW2beAUySgx6Bg0eXY1667GvAAr5fMeKcn8rc77jHXqaOIsvZQ/s4096/IMG_20210101_151705062_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDSUHfoEUN-ULpsWEwubJgO5I9Xxu_rVlbIM3nIf3egivC-QR3D6pFzdxYlgJRXR3Y2ZC8XkN7QkbOF41ciTsLW2beAUySgx6Bg0eXY1667GvAAr5fMeKcn8rc77jHXqaOIsvZQ/w640-h480/IMG_20210101_151705062_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWwNMJwMd4hUtTqkGlA2r7mG83kHLZr9UYint_PRweD_WJVi6MMCpqlyCAWZLuL1gVpwxC66PhYAmkCjb3RukWXLk09cH63YZSIgR3oIEo5GYrIBrjQNadoZ_DLqAbF4nVv-qTQ/s4096/IMG_20210101_151747818_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWwNMJwMd4hUtTqkGlA2r7mG83kHLZr9UYint_PRweD_WJVi6MMCpqlyCAWZLuL1gVpwxC66PhYAmkCjb3RukWXLk09cH63YZSIgR3oIEo5GYrIBrjQNadoZ_DLqAbF4nVv-qTQ/w640-h480/IMG_20210101_151747818_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">I have to admit it was kind of fun to see if we could build a snow person taller than ourselves. Once it was built, Chuck had some very specific ideas of how it should look, so he searched out all the accessories. Then we had a photo shoot.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgIx_CS3pVZf7RCcavfWdm3mqe6JId_EC9_RPu-0-QqMAu3PVMle8Qb9Cm8KPyYfBG7gy8Qg0c0ER0Yxx9sxDaXhvb9olGCV-zX6FpBU_orQ9M_6vIIdFUsrCIpXW0r5-SUgYXg/s3264/IMG_20210101_150842159_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgIx_CS3pVZf7RCcavfWdm3mqe6JId_EC9_RPu-0-QqMAu3PVMle8Qb9Cm8KPyYfBG7gy8Qg0c0ER0Yxx9sxDaXhvb9olGCV-zX6FpBU_orQ9M_6vIIdFUsrCIpXW0r5-SUgYXg/w480-h640/IMG_20210101_150842159_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HjGFeXM5MkFFccyIt0azM9SVPAfoWDDhJMeLVethZ2Kjd54rXBbXSagcTqtm3D-MDlebKe4UYuKwjYq4lsqmrWSgpZY3nUXBFsrpfpJJydPd6BDe8-b1LQt7qKTwnLXr39Seow/s4096/IMG_20210101_150904460_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HjGFeXM5MkFFccyIt0azM9SVPAfoWDDhJMeLVethZ2Kjd54rXBbXSagcTqtm3D-MDlebKe4UYuKwjYq4lsqmrWSgpZY3nUXBFsrpfpJJydPd6BDe8-b1LQt7qKTwnLXr39Seow/w480-h640/IMG_20210101_150904460_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1I4d2Rl7tKm9gqcC-VO4FRHB2naM9ug5OAX4GHMfcpqqfyy2O_hTLRt952u_xqt0px0bMxZ4FwOjLblG2_YtP9-6Ea2jhHMJh0qS_hgKNwbbSc51YiiVreI7EysYW9nivSMMQPg/s4096/IMG_20210101_151022951_BURST000_COVER_COMP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1I4d2Rl7tKm9gqcC-VO4FRHB2naM9ug5OAX4GHMfcpqqfyy2O_hTLRt952u_xqt0px0bMxZ4FwOjLblG2_YtP9-6Ea2jhHMJh0qS_hgKNwbbSc51YiiVreI7EysYW9nivSMMQPg/w480-h640/IMG_20210101_151022951_BURST000_COVER_COMP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZF3iSRxEmmZ_RyczgL1Ci5uoF7WOWMNed7cI8YkrtQKpIS4O9v0vqFqY51OosU-QvIXBgSp5_8dtXevqyX-vWtAxqOWBNM2VtUOFkb_h0kSOt-nIsoGOLw9LbpX31YpWTTAErEw/s4096/IMG_20210101_151240969_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZF3iSRxEmmZ_RyczgL1Ci5uoF7WOWMNed7cI8YkrtQKpIS4O9v0vqFqY51OosU-QvIXBgSp5_8dtXevqyX-vWtAxqOWBNM2VtUOFkb_h0kSOt-nIsoGOLw9LbpX31YpWTTAErEw/w480-h640/IMG_20210101_151240969_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Then we decided to collect the dog. We'd left Fritz to his own devices without really checking on him much at all until we were nearly done building. Fritz has discovered a place behind some large bushes where there is some kind of burrow inhabitted by small rodents. I've seen glimpses of them. Bigger than a mouse, less tail than a rat, chubby with a smooth brownish gray fur. I think they have moved away to avoid Fritz, but the area still has their scent. So he spent the afternoon trying to dig them out. Because the snow was wet, the dirt underneath was wet, and while the boots kept his feet clean, most of the rest of him was not clean. Whenever he got tired of digging, he would lie down right in that snow free muddy area.</p><p style="text-align: center;">This meant he needed a bath, which is kind of a big job.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHeaf2W25zXD_evFRdK-GUczv4gJbHjodRC7pHs0aJkFP0TCw98edCnnNVVqf9QpJ2a7bkFRjKJtMR_P12HgdeSQDQr_uBRuTnlJo5L9ziqVJTeSfcBQe_FgqzpN1ZDUBe3RJsA/s4096/IMG_20210101_151451728_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHeaf2W25zXD_evFRdK-GUczv4gJbHjodRC7pHs0aJkFP0TCw98edCnnNVVqf9QpJ2a7bkFRjKJtMR_P12HgdeSQDQr_uBRuTnlJo5L9ziqVJTeSfcBQe_FgqzpN1ZDUBe3RJsA/w480-h640/IMG_20210101_151451728_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">I'd gotten a roast up from the freezer to make borscht today, but we had gone out to play instead of getting the soup started. Chuck really loved borscht. I do too, actually, but I was OK with making it tomorrow so that it could simmer long enough to really get the flavor right. He was open to eating late and helping with the chopping so that we could still have it tonight. So we cooked together. We don't do that often. We each have our own ways of doing things. But today we did things differently together. So the cabbage is chopped differently than I would chop it, but it came out pretty tasty. While it was simmering, we fired up the Wii and tried bowling and golf.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Now the leftovers are packaged and we have had our snow ice cream dessert.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6W8GHQPitSeKYPJRgRA7snYkjxpxV-8gWf3qcaD6EPSi0R0CFTN_z4NvbxYpPYOhFBxGwoYIrDt9Vs4bkQvqm084CeZjua6GstgrAjvhnVBTdYKEGe8PELfyXyUWULs2HtfL9eA/s4096/IMG_20210101_212925090_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6W8GHQPitSeKYPJRgRA7snYkjxpxV-8gWf3qcaD6EPSi0R0CFTN_z4NvbxYpPYOhFBxGwoYIrDt9Vs4bkQvqm084CeZjua6GstgrAjvhnVBTdYKEGe8PELfyXyUWULs2HtfL9eA/w480-h640/IMG_20210101_212925090_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Yesterday I watched a PBS interview where the question was asked how the interviewee was doing with the stress of these times. Her answer was quick, almost too quick. She was doing well because she does the things she needs to do. It was so matter of fact. I wondered how she could be so certain, but she went on to explain. She has learned to notice her emotional state, and she has learned what things she must do to keep her equilibrium. She knows to get outside, to exercise, to find time alone. I know she listed more things she did that helped her to keep her balance emotionally, and that is not what is important here. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It is important that she knows what helps her. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It is important that she does what helps her.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Maybe when we are in a rough spot, what we need is to keep talking. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Or maybe what we need is to stop talking, at least for a while, and get some rest, go outside, exercise, play, make good food. Perhaps taking care of ourselves will give us what we need to listen better, to be less defensive, to pay attention to what is good. </p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-19571994737847486052020-12-29T17:48:00.000-06:002020-12-29T17:48:49.854-06:00Three books at a time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJn5GQ6WoQD2k5d_Q0aVq_mQEnw4wQTiJDfJmMWdacqDrF0NIA-Mn5Igfzls2rIJsuHjb9ntTuG9fB50sPly-IrIATK0i5tQsgA1usn60LGRcgNqnXMgw2ItuoGlmRVbXoCuGT0g/s4096/IMG_20201229_152406404_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJn5GQ6WoQD2k5d_Q0aVq_mQEnw4wQTiJDfJmMWdacqDrF0NIA-Mn5Igfzls2rIJsuHjb9ntTuG9fB50sPly-IrIATK0i5tQsgA1usn60LGRcgNqnXMgw2ItuoGlmRVbXoCuGT0g/w640-h480/IMG_20201229_152406404_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> It's a rainy day today. I'd ordered groceries for this morning because I wanted to do a pick up before cold weather. With the rain, that worked out well to also go to the downtown market and deli to get some of the staples there right at opening, before things got busy. I was the first customer into the store, and it's always good to see the people I know who work there.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I've quickly gotten used to being home day after day over this holiday break. I'm going to do some cooking ahead later this week in order to ease back into a busier schedule as school gets started again.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Even though the news feed has slowed down a bit since the election, there are still days when it can make me feel hopeless. The divides are so great. In the last few days I've started three books that relate in one way or another to those feelings. I heard about the first one in a podcast earlier this fall and thought it would be something a bit lighter but still meaningful.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The book is <u>Tell Me More</u>, by Kelly Corrigan, and Chuck and I are listening to this one together. This is a book about the twelve things most important to say to sustain our relationships, starting with "Tell me more..." Corrigan does a great job of explaining the value of each of these phrases by telling animated stories from her own life about learning to use each phrase. She is honest about the fallout of not using them, as well as the benefits of using them well. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The theme is clearly how to form connections, real connections, with other people. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I can't think of something we need more right now, nationally. But also personally, these phrases open non-judgemental conversation, set good boundaries that allow relationships to flourish, and set a tone for a strong relationship to continue to grow.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The second book was recommended by a friend on facebook just this week. <u>See No Stranger, a Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love</u>, by Valarie Kaur begins by challenging us to see our difficult times in a new light. Instead of seeing this time as a possible tomb, we can look at it as a womb, birthing a better time ahead of us. She has been through a lot, as a Sikh woman immigrant who was twenty years old on 9/11/2001. There was no safety for her family, who saw themselves as American patriots, but who were seen as the enemy by anyone who saw their brown skin and the turbans they wore as part of their Sikh faith. Her book is about how to reach across incredibly deep divides. It stems from a TED talk she gave. Kaur encourage us to choose to see others with curiosity, and to fight through our judgements toward that end. But that is much too simple a summary. It is worth the read to see how she has faced those who would kill her loved ones, how she has nurtured herself in order to be able to offer curiosity and wondering to those who have not offered it to her. There is a link to her TED talk here: <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/valarie_kaur_3_lessons_of_revolutionary_love_in_a_time_of_rage#t-1320160" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">Valarie Kaur TED talk</a>.</p><p style="text-align: center;">During the night last night I had trouble sleeping and did not want to listen to either book because I didn't want to wake Chuck. I went to my Hoopla library app and did a search for Barbara Brown Taylor, an author I can trust for wisdom. Hoopla had one I'd not read yet, <u>Learning to Walk In the Dark</u>. Since these times have seemed like dark times, I quickly downloaded the book and read for a long while. Again, this author speaks of going through dark times with curiosity and wondering. If we see life as a cycle, such as day to night to day again, or full moon to new moon and back to full, can we wonder what the dark times have to teach us?</p><p style="text-align: center;">So I'm reading or listening to three books with edges of the same theme; turning toward wonder and curiosity, and away from judgement and fear. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4ubuoX79LrS8Xzsa6ULlqKjq9KljLRy3S578pj7isLAheTj1nSOqP39UBEFn0bGjZwt9MJHZy7TWsCuIYyJZEUREevfQoATAgIw5TCOHjmf19RFVpan4_jKjVTP6LpTbMoQXjA/s4096/IMG_20201229_152451565_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4ubuoX79LrS8Xzsa6ULlqKjq9KljLRy3S578pj7isLAheTj1nSOqP39UBEFn0bGjZwt9MJHZy7TWsCuIYyJZEUREevfQoATAgIw5TCOHjmf19RFVpan4_jKjVTP6LpTbMoQXjA/w480-h640/IMG_20201229_152451565_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-9775979005722806832020-12-26T22:01:00.000-06:002020-12-26T22:01:47.000-06:00Welcome to Our World<p style="text-align: center;"> It is the day after Christmas, and true to form, I'm at loose ends. This seems odd to me because it is such an unusual year, and so I did not expect the after-holiday loss of inspiration that happens in other years. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Yesterday my Facebook memories reminded me that three years ago, Mom spent her last Christmas at our home. She found it hard to keep up with the activities of a multigenerational group so I brought down photo books I'd made over the years and she poured through those while we surrounded her with food, games, and conversation. There was one pic in that Facebook memory that included me, so today I wore the same clothes I wore the day Mom was here.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I've missed her a lot this year. We would have talked through all the things, including the politics. There are days even now when I think briefly, "I should call Mom. It's been forever." </p><p style="text-align: center;">Our traditional Christmas Eve service was recorded this year and sent out by email. Families from church told the Christmas story together on Zoom, holding up the parts of the Nativity as they told each section of the story. Interspersed were songs offered by a mom and a daughter from our congregation. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Being a bit on the introvert side of things, I've been mostly ok with church online, but hearing Hope and Jyl sing Welcome to Our World by Chris Rice in our dining room, instead of in the darkened church, is still bringing tears to my eyes when I think about it. The congregation could not sing Silent Night in hushed harmony, or resound the Gloria chorus from Angels We Have Heard on High. </p><p style="text-align: center;">And it wasn't only the music I missed. Christmas Eve is when all the young people who have moved away come home to be hugged and welcomed back. It is the orange placed in my hand on the way out of the sanctuary. It is family after family taking Christmas pictures by the huge Christmas tree. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It is awe, once again, that Jesus would come, helpless as an infant, to a young girl in the Middle East. What a mystery, God walking among us turning everything upside down enough that we still so often miss the point.</p><p style="text-align: center;">But that last bit...the awe...is still here. Especially this year, there is awe that Jesus would see enough in us that he would come and live among us.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUuxN2xJdaqPP6enCA6boYYo9GrtCyBoIBvURFXpM1qQRsJ5W1Gui1upUKlrIRcq5-7IsY0ZgYcz8ybNeaUJUJ2sst8OIWOIuUWDess9Ynz8L8dHAtr81bymKTSlU1GTf8ZxRaA/s4096/IMG_20201226_202750587_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUuxN2xJdaqPP6enCA6boYYo9GrtCyBoIBvURFXpM1qQRsJ5W1Gui1upUKlrIRcq5-7IsY0ZgYcz8ybNeaUJUJ2sst8OIWOIuUWDess9Ynz8L8dHAtr81bymKTSlU1GTf8ZxRaA/w640-h480/IMG_20201226_202750587_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">So I sit here next to my Advent candles and miniature Ecuadoran Nativities gifted to me by good friend, and wonder.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My tears at the music isn't only nostalgia, but also a sense of how hard the world has been. I can't think of this story as sweet or safe. There is too much hard mixed into all of it. Jesus did not come into safety or sweetness, but maybe to teach us what was more important than either of those things. I still have a lot to learn. I want to claim safety and sweetness as part of faith, but it isn't. Not a sparrow falls without God knowing it...but sparrows do still fall. The hairs on my head are numbered, as are the hairs on the heads of every person who has come upon one tragedy or another this year. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is the love of God for us, and that love is with us even as we go through the events of our lives...all of them. As much as I wish God's love meant I would always be safe, I cannot deny that Jesus made it plain that it does not. Jesus came because love was worth all of what he went through.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So I fight with that, as someone who has had the illusion that they can keep themselves safe through careful choices and good luck and God's favor. And I look to others for an example of what it means in our times. John Lewis is the name to comes to mind first.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The birth of Jesus is a story of love and justice and mercy being more important than safety. Where would we be without that?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Welcome to our world. </p><div class="PZPZlf" data-lyricid="Lyricfind002-311054"><g-expandable-content aria-hidden="false" data-eb="0" data-mt="0" jsaction=";rcuQ6b:npT2md" jscontroller="wrFDyc" jsname="WbKHeb" jsshadow="" style="display: block; transition: none 0s ease 0s;"><span jsslot=""><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Tears are falling, hearts are breaking</div><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">How we need to hear from God</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">You've been promised, we've been waiting</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Welcome Holy Child </div></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Hope that You don't mind our manger</div><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">How I wish we could have known</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">But long-awaited Holy Stranger</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Make Yourself at home</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Please make Yourself at home</div></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Bring Your peace into our violence</div><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Bid our hungry souls be filled</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Word now breaking Heaven's silence</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Welcome to our world </div></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Fragile finger sent to heal us</div><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Tender brow prepared for thorn</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Tiny heart whose blood will save us</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Unto us is born </div></span></div><div class="ujudUb WRZytc" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;">So wrap our injured flesh around You</div><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Breathe our air and walk our sod</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Rob our sins and make us holy</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Perfect Son of God </div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Welcome to our world</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QrgwL5r7IcU" width="320" youtube-src-id="QrgwL5r7IcU"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div></span></g-expandable-content></div><div class="cLjAic LMRCfc" data-hveid="CA0QAA" data-ved="2ahUKEwicmcWOlu3tAhUBP6wKHftrBWgQy9oBKAB6BAgNEAA" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="vnLNtd mnr-c B03h3d P6OZi V14nKc ptcLIOszQJu__wholepage-card wp-ms" data-hveid="CA0QAQ" style="border-radius: 8px; border: 1px solid rgb(223, 225, 229); margin: 0px; overflow: hidden;"><div class="UDZeY OTFaAf" style="font-size: 14px;"><div class="mod NFQFxe" data-attrid="kc:/music/recording_cluster:lyrics" data-md="113" lang="en-US" style="clear: none;"><div data-hveid="CAYQAA" data-ved="2ahUKEwicmcWOlu3tAhUBP6wKHftrBWgQsEwwA3oECAYQAA"><g-expandable-container aria-expanded="true" data-slct="mnr-c" jsaction="C7xow:Z6bwpe;xpd_c:fW2qAb;xpd_e:AvkpRc;xNpQtd:Nh5q2c;U6VCqe:GsRPff;Ep2Mgc:AgioGc;xpd_t:yELBLe;BDs6B:fW2qAb;ep03Ne:AvkpRc;gvA4Rc:yELBLe" jscontroller="UxJOle" jsshadow="" style="display: block;"><div jsname="gI9xcc" jsslot="1"><div class="Oh5wg HudAHb" style="line-height: 20px; margin: 16px;"><div class="PZPZlf" data-lyricid="Lyricfind002-311054"><g-expandable-content aria-hidden="false" data-eb="0" data-mt="0" jsaction=";rcuQ6b:npT2md" jscontroller="wrFDyc" jsname="WbKHeb" jsshadow="" style="display: block; transition: none 0s ease 0s;"><span jsslot=""><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></g-expandable-content></div></div></div></g-expandable-container></div></div></div></div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-23626796707517209182020-12-21T23:52:00.000-06:002020-12-21T23:52:52.708-06:00 Searching for a Star (2 planets)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Last Sunday was the fourth Sunday of Advent. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Traditionally our church cancels Sunday School on the fourth Sunday of Advent in order to have carry in breakfast together. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With covid, breakfast together in person isn't an option, so we had a Zoom breakfast together in all our separate homes. I'd made Cranberry Scones, and Prairy Winter Blend coffee blended by The Roasterie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wanted to make church an occasion, like it was before covid, so I dressed in the clothes I like to wear at Christmas. I even wore earrings and a little make up. That was challenging because it has been so long since I've worn either that I couldn't remember where I kept them! But I managed to find them, and took a pic for proof.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimlFR_LjzW33i3JNUvmSIHyeNTTa8S4kMCfBsZ2y7f5iJ8nZxtR_Yn9D-U9SFcMr5jwH9SKPvtHONe20ZV17NlYxSP0cwaN90VV1D2gk11fPYkfBVLJ7LiA_UGGyX9xZMwDkY-g/s2592/IMG_20201220_121029452_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="2272" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimlFR_LjzW33i3JNUvmSIHyeNTTa8S4kMCfBsZ2y7f5iJ8nZxtR_Yn9D-U9SFcMr5jwH9SKPvtHONe20ZV17NlYxSP0cwaN90VV1D2gk11fPYkfBVLJ7LiA_UGGyX9xZMwDkY-g/w560-h640/IMG_20201220_121029452_MP.jpg" width="560" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I also wanted the room where we zoom to be Christmassy, so I moved the Advent candles and the Nativity set to the dining room where we sit at the computer.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxslxz7ZA3SToetS_WAQUNZyxjujfsXlefSuj_1MC8IySEZ0KWOisiJQMqC4bYXLvlZBtV8O4et1OmC1Sw1oV_h9lBmGR_V3yUQXQ65RWEQiGiYBe-G4jv1o8LZzG8RXk53LwXg/s4096/IMG_20201220_122113836_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxslxz7ZA3SToetS_WAQUNZyxjujfsXlefSuj_1MC8IySEZ0KWOisiJQMqC4bYXLvlZBtV8O4et1OmC1Sw1oV_h9lBmGR_V3yUQXQ65RWEQiGiYBe-G4jv1o8LZzG8RXk53LwXg/w640-h480/IMG_20201220_122113836_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">It was a good day. Good to see faces I haven't seen in a long while. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Later we met with our small group for disc golf and conversation. Again, it was good. Good to spend the afternoon walking and talking outdoors distantly (and masked) with friends. Good to explore what faith means in the individual contexts of our lives together.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I think each of us shared ways the uncomfortable emotions surrounding our current circumstances were part of the process of moving into better understandings, more truth. While we are in those emotions, like anger, or denial, or fear, all we want is to be out of them. But the way out seems to be through. I wonder if there will be a day when I can feel those intense emotions and welcome them as a sign of moving forward.</p><p style="text-align: center;">*****</p><p style="text-align: center;">Today was the rare alignment of Saturn and Jupiter. I'd planned to watch at sunset, but spent the daytime planning and preparing for our version of covid Christmas. We will do that tomorrow evening with the kids who are in town. (We will have a larger Zoom celebration later this month, which we are looking forward to.) It is supposed to be unseasonably warm this week, which is what makes it possible to be together. We will eat in small family groups, separated enough for safety, in the barn. </p><p style="text-align: center;">While I was still working in the house on some food prep, my sister-in-law called to let me know about an asterisk of jet contrails in the sky, nearly above us. How funny to see this on the morning before the planets align.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13TCLM54h-xADuYi0tD_acxLYmPBntmSt0ePuZc-QxU0bnjLLubIqLzf_Sg0AHwPvY68ltFjhdket1lrkPOwd0u0pT2QgXfNrBaRfB8WFKg9XP8YUswqu9NWPDIosnUU7jm3P8w/s4096/IMG_20201221_115524174_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13TCLM54h-xADuYi0tD_acxLYmPBntmSt0ePuZc-QxU0bnjLLubIqLzf_Sg0AHwPvY68ltFjhdket1lrkPOwd0u0pT2QgXfNrBaRfB8WFKg9XP8YUswqu9NWPDIosnUU7jm3P8w/w480-h640/IMG_20201221_115524174_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was going to decorate the barn in the afternoon, but realized there were errands in town that had deadlines, so I didn't get out to the barn before it was time for sunset and the big sky event. We went outside to see, and enjoyed the changing colors of the sunset as we waited for stars to appear.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtL-PoetOUun84DLAlp_4_Q7ciGdEjFmC2WuF8iOf3NyU-oMw5sFgGJ-V4yU64KjBf5tz0695a6-0d1InWJiuSalooxZ9rs-u_tc0VlR1EJU3hyBER3z7B02Gsk8OpnS6XkJKfDw/s4096/IMG_20201221_173156679_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtL-PoetOUun84DLAlp_4_Q7ciGdEjFmC2WuF8iOf3NyU-oMw5sFgGJ-V4yU64KjBf5tz0695a6-0d1InWJiuSalooxZ9rs-u_tc0VlR1EJU3hyBER3z7B02Gsk8OpnS6XkJKfDw/w640-h480/IMG_20201221_173156679_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEd1Mjm69M-VpAELc1J-basJKFfef409e7hkdx5rmoxiLr04EUfOm-hji50o-BfSOv0ykCjjq43M8k5Ekob1WRAD7kyVEAz1S-5-iLksr-wdF5VEwVPPT6H24wDkHs3ACO6XB4pw/s4096/IMG_20201221_173820541_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEd1Mjm69M-VpAELc1J-basJKFfef409e7hkdx5rmoxiLr04EUfOm-hji50o-BfSOv0ykCjjq43M8k5Ekob1WRAD7kyVEAz1S-5-iLksr-wdF5VEwVPPT6H24wDkHs3ACO6XB4pw/w640-h480/IMG_20201221_173820541_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1qvH60Nlzqjp9goLVeuC2laLwD_p8CRaWWdEeMeOBPLGnb5gA8upfdRaZTwZ2EmmuEkhwLaBHb2v_JP-btsF9pMalFmug4QLf-VZ-rvAAkyBwl7A-IZFiIPgo1mZSDtGRj0i7g/s4096/IMG_20201221_174122876_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1qvH60Nlzqjp9goLVeuC2laLwD_p8CRaWWdEeMeOBPLGnb5gA8upfdRaZTwZ2EmmuEkhwLaBHb2v_JP-btsF9pMalFmug4QLf-VZ-rvAAkyBwl7A-IZFiIPgo1mZSDtGRj0i7g/w640-h480/IMG_20201221_174122876_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I glanced down at Fritz, I saw how the colors of the sunset were reflected on his coat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67UUJx_GpjSEl5Lvq8ofXBPAYNJCnGRhDPg1vIdkjNRCKQ32rkao3wiVP-P1Lr9z9DC4DWbJ4UUZYJ6jxP6qsdx4fNYIY6rFIoCbL1Z2qhR1NCQf_lvlTp2WlgQff9PJghI5wng/s960/IMG_20201221_174614233__exported_166_1608607777165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67UUJx_GpjSEl5Lvq8ofXBPAYNJCnGRhDPg1vIdkjNRCKQ32rkao3wiVP-P1Lr9z9DC4DWbJ4UUZYJ6jxP6qsdx4fNYIY6rFIoCbL1Z2qhR1NCQf_lvlTp2WlgQff9PJghI5wng/w480-h640/IMG_20201221_174614233__exported_166_1608607777165.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We watched for the planets to appear. We could already see stars straight above us and to the east, but in the southwest, all I could see was what I thought was an airplane. There was a bright light with a tiny light just a little to the side that I assumed was a tail light. But the airplane did not move toward us or away from us, and we recognized we were seeing the planets. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm sure we will see a lot of better pictures than what my phone could get, but this is what I have.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb10BTz2oxXsV83ZKStgY-Q6w8nXYcAVSbQlpvWVFpigmY3qGNOu-jQdyRtnQWvcKSdmIFRK85pTSVNy465VeNJ8DCBB2w26mfAvrwHC7aeuL6-71PgM-SG-VhovnCt2RRkJAOaA/s4096/IMG_20201221_175541531_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb10BTz2oxXsV83ZKStgY-Q6w8nXYcAVSbQlpvWVFpigmY3qGNOu-jQdyRtnQWvcKSdmIFRK85pTSVNy465VeNJ8DCBB2w26mfAvrwHC7aeuL6-71PgM-SG-VhovnCt2RRkJAOaA/w480-h640/IMG_20201221_175541531_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIu5BGjNeHZP53EyPNGz_KNFgYFs1jmrVbgHuDTXEev_F7BCCSZ27_3VSFrK0Ohk1XAiVDYom2omxglJfVF1sx5h0Yi3lK-_Ec2fdBu1TfAkp3SMLWZRgVQAIdW9KfHwIlpKZtuQ/s4096/IMG_20201221_180559598_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIu5BGjNeHZP53EyPNGz_KNFgYFs1jmrVbgHuDTXEev_F7BCCSZ27_3VSFrK0Ohk1XAiVDYom2omxglJfVF1sx5h0Yi3lK-_Ec2fdBu1TfAkp3SMLWZRgVQAIdW9KfHwIlpKZtuQ/w480-h640/IMG_20201221_180559598_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> It was quiet. Well, mostly quiet except for cars driving by. But with the wind nearly calm and the changing of the sky from sunlight to moonlight, time seemed to hold still. It reminded me of last night after we got home from small group.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">When we got home from small group, I was ready for some quiet alone time. Chuck invited me for a walk at sunset, which is our custom, but I declined, ready to just be alone for a bit after a busy day. He was only gone for a short while when he called my cell phone. "The sunset is crazy beautiful. The colors in the clouds all around is unreal. Do you want to come see?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I sighed. Do I? I pulled on my shoes and headed out, mixed feelings already churning. What had I learned in small group? I'd quickly forgotten. Stepping out the door and moving down the lane past the trees, I saw Chuck was right, only there aren't words adequate to describe the beauty of clouds and colors as they were last night. I'd chosen not to bring my phone, and I was glad. Every moment it was different. Chuck was quite a ways farther down the road, so I was alone with the colors of the sunset and my ambivalent feelings about not getting time alone. Writing about it now, it's not lost on me that I was alone and wasting that alone time being frustrated about not getting time alone. When he reached me, Chuck stood for a while and then observed how quiet I was. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I told him, "Yeah, it's like...God says, 'come see this sunset I'm making' and I say 'no, I think I want to be alone now?' But there is no other time I can see this. I have to see it now. And it's so beautiful. And...I still need some time alone..." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I did get some solitude later. And the wonderful sunset yesterday, along with the mixed feelings of awe and frustration, was good preparation for today. I was ready. I could be still and enjoy this less spectacular but still pretty great sunset, and the appearance of Saturn and Jupiter, bright in the sky, watching alone with Chuck and Fritz, but aware of a connection with all the other hopeful star gazers in the world.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-21132066559892046412020-12-16T22:03:00.000-06:002020-12-16T22:03:50.810-06:00Old and New<p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two walks, two days apart.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">One on the Sand creek trail with the dog and a friend. One in the snow through the fields with only the dog. The look was very different, but the things I noticed had a common theme.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-1fa3e9f5-7fff-2eca-edc6-1ad60a980fcf"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has mostly been a pleasant December. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sunday was warm and bright. Part of my walk was alone with the dog and I chose to take the north loop in the opposite direction from my usual route. The sun from behind me as I walked another way on the path made me see things differently. This tall thin tree with the bends midway up has caught my eye before, but not in the same way as it did Sunday with the afternoon sun on it. Why did the builders of the trail choose to leave that tree there? Probably for the same reason that I’m glad it’s there.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmnyDA_SEZ1DTz5mP1HFcRsxobZta-s-N9rozc5oNTfjwia-RcRrom7HMwQR_sRNZuYPFnzv94C3frhbvPhkanyxyjs3Khqjau0on3j5EooCikJhc87Z6HdH1M73kPLaApmDgMg/s4096/IMG_20201213_153607192_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmnyDA_SEZ1DTz5mP1HFcRsxobZta-s-N9rozc5oNTfjwia-RcRrom7HMwQR_sRNZuYPFnzv94C3frhbvPhkanyxyjs3Khqjau0on3j5EooCikJhc87Z6HdH1M73kPLaApmDgMg/w480-h640/IMG_20201213_153607192_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just past this tall thin tree was a row of trees that had died some time ago, lost much of their bark, and bleached as they began their decay. The whiteness is so beautiful in an opposite, but not incongruous way to the beauty of that young tree splitting the path. </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nTDs5RfxfNHEClAmozHJ_QrOtfozZTU39pRd64_iw3Os834Gdor1RvRpXs9UMfFdBy6MRQ104FTEm07rdvI9MrnW0VhVdrJJD-xrpoXOSYHBUK-VaOo6hQN7A7p5cAFDzwK75Q/s4096/IMG_20201213_153747997_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nTDs5RfxfNHEClAmozHJ_QrOtfozZTU39pRd64_iw3Os834Gdor1RvRpXs9UMfFdBy6MRQ104FTEm07rdvI9MrnW0VhVdrJJD-xrpoXOSYHBUK-VaOo6hQN7A7p5cAFDzwK75Q/w480-h640/IMG_20201213_153747997_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yesterday my path was through the fields so that the dog could safely run unleashed...something I rarely allow except in our small backyard. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpg7vmTqjYhkCfbRsR129BOGmU7tCKKoRqBNTOK5x6MncPRhjpasBoMUFf9bmYxZ4lblvQo3IrhvoIls2YVhkiLugHxPKzgSBe7WrMTLDVuuO2bA5MUkJpr56lxP0tZyz_zp1rJA/s4096/IMG_20201215_155146451_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpg7vmTqjYhkCfbRsR129BOGmU7tCKKoRqBNTOK5x6MncPRhjpasBoMUFf9bmYxZ4lblvQo3IrhvoIls2YVhkiLugHxPKzgSBe7WrMTLDVuuO2bA5MUkJpr56lxP0tZyz_zp1rJA/w640-h480/IMG_20201215_155146451_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When he realized his freedom, he careened around the field, sprinting through the snow with his little black dog boots keeping the ice from accumulating between his toes. There is a joy dogs express with their bodies when allowed to run until they are tired. I wish I had more pictures from this walk, but I'm also glad I just absorbed the walk.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I walked through a couple of fields, one with wheat growing bright and green right up through the stubble of last summer’s corn crop. The promise of the future growing up from soil held in place by roots of the past. The young and the old, just like the trees from Sunday's walk.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Bible says our days are like grass. Like grass, not like trees. We move so quickly through our lives, while history stretches out long. I think about this a lot more now than I did when I was young. I want things resolved in my lifetime, but that isn’t how it works. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s been more than a generation since we had a pandemic like the one we are in now. If those who lived then were still with us now, would their wisdom have guided us better? Would we have listened, or disregarded their advice as old fashioned and outdated? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Israelites were in Egypt for four hundred years. How many generations is that? What did the older people of each generation feel as they saw things had not changed for their children and grandchildren? We are at four hundred years since the stealing of land and people began the history of racism in this country. While things have changed, there is not yet justice. There is no promise that things will resolve in my lifetime. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, what is the way toward hope? Christmas is a story of hope. It is a story of moving toward justice and mercy and grace, regardless of whether things will turn out the way we want them to within our lifetime. It includes restoration for religious leaders and fishermen and tax collectors and Samaritan women and children and soldiers and maji and shepherds and it begins with a girl saying yes to a task too big for her to understand, and so she ponders in her heart the things she hears and sees, and she sings a song about justice. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mary chose hope, but she chose it one step at a time. I look at her life and it is so much. How could one woman do and endure so much? But she did one thing at a time. She said yes, and that led her to the next yes. Did she know when she said yes that it meant fleeing to Egypt? She didn't know any of it. She just continued, one yes at a time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So for me, what is my next yes? In my devotions this morning the writer spoke of beginning to pray for those with whom she most disagrees. I've chosen to do that today, as both an act of hope, and a way of reducing my anxiety about what the divisions in our country mean for the future.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-81033683764637393772020-12-12T23:00:00.001-06:002020-12-12T23:00:44.293-06:00Sour milk<p style="text-align: center;"> I like to pick up my groceries curbside on Saturday mornings between 7 and 8. That is what I did today, and as usual, as soon as I got home I thought of at least two things I wish I had ordered. We will be absolutely fine without those things. But if I had been rolling my cart through the store myself, I'd have thought of them as I passed them on the shelf.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Anyway, I digress. I got up before 7 on a Saturday because I arranged to pick up groceries. This is a way to trick myself into being productive on a Saturday. It wasn't terribly successful.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I probably need to stop listening to the news, because it is having an impact on me. The reactions of the people of our country to covid and to the election are sapping my energy and hope. I spend way too much time trying to figure out why there are such deep divides, and worrying what those divides mean for the future. I lose motivation and have trouble getting moving with my work.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So it was much later than usual when I finally made my coffee, which doesn't seem like a big deal. But it was. When I added milk to my coffee, I realized that the milk was just on the edge of being sour. There is a point where it smells just a tiny bit different but it is still sweet enough to be used in cooking. It was six cups of milk. That is the right amount for a double batch of almond stritzel.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Starting enough dough for twelve loaves means I will have to be productive for several hours. So I got the dough ready for the first rise, and then decided to take a walk.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I really should have taken a walk early in the day. Being outside just changes me. Nothing is different in the world, but bracing fresh air against my face, the sight of the winter grasses and the barren trees against the sky, and a view of the horizon makes a difference in me. I had energy for the rest of the day.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I put up just a few Christmas lights outdoors and then came in to check the dough. It was ready to roll and fill.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUSRaqMyj8ukbOx1-ffT3qgNzbWxn6e-Q6xPMGmTa3uwpCeOMiazOZo-n5pVpwgpDSZj0Gpu0L0S3ymFPqxCjA6m_SgR7TckoKz_3nvhGlW3LYgZ5t2K4G8nczJuj_JcypVJYrw/s4096/IMG_20201212_180725185_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUSRaqMyj8ukbOx1-ffT3qgNzbWxn6e-Q6xPMGmTa3uwpCeOMiazOZo-n5pVpwgpDSZj0Gpu0L0S3ymFPqxCjA6m_SgR7TckoKz_3nvhGlW3LYgZ5t2K4G8nczJuj_JcypVJYrw/w480-h640/IMG_20201212_180725185_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Three loaves rolled out around the filling, a mixture of almond paste, egg whites, and powdered sugar.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhat2QODPnM86t1l2EJuhea1FLScpeFRm6_GZUSsAFG4jItGlLjnTasryFjd8Dc5xAuUgHZ2oB9o4AO2tVaKItpEfFrDoPcOjGlJvC_tvPrPaVLkE9VHatFa2_r-FtLWPXD2Tj22w/s4096/IMG_20201212_181036814_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhat2QODPnM86t1l2EJuhea1FLScpeFRm6_GZUSsAFG4jItGlLjnTasryFjd8Dc5xAuUgHZ2oB9o4AO2tVaKItpEfFrDoPcOjGlJvC_tvPrPaVLkE9VHatFa2_r-FtLWPXD2Tj22w/w480-h640/IMG_20201212_181036814_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One loaf spread with filling and ready to be rolled and sealed into loaf form.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcoFsNaJNNIHNP6yZIOyezLPwQGxlY17aEic0Wk_JWipxzauvkqtEl3HtaBI-BXBFgytLtVcpGZ-uy2Z-VBNvmgy-BDKNRNUKB7aYCWJi45eFsWdKEteRsLt4u8VOAK26JFw0zHg/s4096/IMG_20201212_184146322_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcoFsNaJNNIHNP6yZIOyezLPwQGxlY17aEic0Wk_JWipxzauvkqtEl3HtaBI-BXBFgytLtVcpGZ-uy2Z-VBNvmgy-BDKNRNUKB7aYCWJi45eFsWdKEteRsLt4u8VOAK26JFw0zHg/w480-h640/IMG_20201212_184146322_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">One more rise before baking.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Chuck lit a fire so we could eat supper outside while the stritzel was rising. This was completely a kindness on his part. I was the one who wanted more time outdoors because of how healing it had been in the afternoon.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsAljJsvxCFtNZ0EXGZlFRUuFI5PehcoGhleGo4VVDDxBWAjqQ-0NYvqhoIqgXcxvBpdDlZbWK2ue3BEHuz5lNaf2p7_GsdrVnKtCeg_7wtgs3aEQBhaUWDMe8g20pd87SJbxYQ/s4096/IMG_20201212_190229195_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsAljJsvxCFtNZ0EXGZlFRUuFI5PehcoGhleGo4VVDDxBWAjqQ-0NYvqhoIqgXcxvBpdDlZbWK2ue3BEHuz5lNaf2p7_GsdrVnKtCeg_7wtgs3aEQBhaUWDMe8g20pd87SJbxYQ/w480-h640/IMG_20201212_190229195_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">And the lights seemed to be pretty nice from outdoors as well.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gOkffdIayw92nRU0weoHQCiWCNnP9QXbYj2e_JMVhqJvzzHWsDvVIZEnyPHA7hDlBxzvEt2pP1phKFFgr55LT069dgTRaVJAxJfaRSruKokE0-_BLya6m73bQjFWdaGghApHsg/s4096/IMG_20201212_190639987_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gOkffdIayw92nRU0weoHQCiWCNnP9QXbYj2e_JMVhqJvzzHWsDvVIZEnyPHA7hDlBxzvEt2pP1phKFFgr55LT069dgTRaVJAxJfaRSruKokE0-_BLya6m73bQjFWdaGghApHsg/w640-h480/IMG_20201212_190639987_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The bread is baked now, the dishes cleaned up, and an episode of West Wing watched together while we enjoyed a little ice cream. A couple of loaves burst open so we will have stritzel for breakfast in the morning. It's always good when that happens.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Between now and then, all the prayers and good energy I can summon. For those who are sick. For those who are in danger. For those who don't have enough. For those who need justice. For those who are grieving.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-19344344351417053862020-12-05T23:32:00.003-06:002020-12-05T23:33:46.900-06:00A birthday, a school success, and a recipe<p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: medium;"><i>We celebrated Chuck's 66th birthday</i></span> yesterday. He is one of four extended family birthdays on that exact day. According to Google, more people are born in August in any other month. We don't fit that pattern. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chuck chose pork chops for his birthday supper, and chocolate cake with caramel frosting for dessert. No surprises there. He enjoyed all the greetings and phone calls and the disc golf that happened on this warm December afternoon.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;"><i> Do you want to build a snowman?</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well yes, even if it takes rolling up nearly every bit of snow in the yard! Remote school went pretty well Thursday. We quit early for lunch and then used most of our lunch time outdoors. </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-02872f42-7fff-daf6-faa0-cee486f803a8"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It had gotten warmer so only our wet hands were cold, and the snow was very sticky, making it not too hard to make quick progress. The only hindrance was that there was not a lot of snow and there </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>were</i></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a lot of leaves, so we had to do a </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">lot</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of rolling to make a couple of small snow people.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG55zxd6QneaPG2kwJhxNQC3r8ABZ4W1KHgF7f13Lg3y-lPyNMjkihnkiHRwTcT7qdsI9zBIZLzgzrv8edpyOwSWGHi3jDvy6h0u87pTnkfuaB3uK1J-UvYC2G3DgXjzxP7-a8WA/s4096/IMG_20201203_115929076_MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG55zxd6QneaPG2kwJhxNQC3r8ABZ4W1KHgF7f13Lg3y-lPyNMjkihnkiHRwTcT7qdsI9zBIZLzgzrv8edpyOwSWGHi3jDvy6h0u87pTnkfuaB3uK1J-UvYC2G3DgXjzxP7-a8WA/w480-h640/IMG_20201203_115929076_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;"><i>Learning from school</i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We had a win the other day in our tiny remote schooling world. The day went on mostly as usual, but better. With the younger two, the small adjustments we have made on our own, combined with the adjustments the teachers have made, are finally becoming comfortable most of the time. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-0108d43c-7fff-b697-0cba-01f31016b9c2" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is still a bit of flurry for me in managing one child’s individual school work while a second child is in a google meet with their teacher. Paying close attention to one means I often miss important information given by the teacher of another during their live meet. So I bounce back and forth between rooms to try to manage both.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile, the oldest is left fending for himself. That has not worked so well. I think I’ve mentioned before that I have had a pretty big learning curve in understanding how the middle school curriculum and web accountability worked. The administration and teachers have made big changes, in order to make themselves more available to the students and parents. These seem to be good changes. Adapting to the change has its own challenges. Now, however, we are seeing results. My grandson started that day with some hard, but honest, feedback from a teacher on a project, and managed to pull himself out of his disappointment and into his work. By the end of the day he had made real progress in several areas. He was able to genuinely say that he really enjoyed school and almost didn’t want to quit for the day. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was the difference, in my opinion, between uncertain learning and confident learning. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seemed to me that possibly we were all (students, parents, teachers) working in an atmosphere of uncertainty about how this would work, whether we were able to make it work, and whether we were ‘the problem’ if it wasn’t working. That last bit is probably the most influential. When dealing with some shame or embarrassment about it possibly being my fault for not being good enough to make this work, it is pretty easy to slip quickly into a lot of unhelpful coping skills. Blaming others, for example. Or worrying that I might be 'the problem'. </span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The temptation to blame takes the focus off what I might be doing wrong. But neither focus is as helpful as recognizing that <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><i>most of us are trying hard to make a hard thing work</i></span>.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With my grandson, in the weeks leading up to this change, I wondered why he felt so defensive. Suggestions from me frequently were met with a list of reasons why those suggestions were impossible and would not work. I began to recognize that my suggestions were likely reinforcing the perception that he was “the problem”. He is NOT the problem.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In my mind, things began to turn last week, when we were talking about learning styles. We were brainstorming what study technique would work for him better than the method I was asking him to use. Suddenly it was not about what he was doing wrong or whether he was trying hard enough. It was about what tools were available to make his goals easier and more attainable. It was about his style of learning and how he could use it to his advantage. He was so responsive, and took initiative to do more than I’d asked of him. He became more himself. It was a good day. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since then he's been eager to show and tell me the next things he has mastered. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZnd4mMum-rvfS9e9nVacMd4NtDCBcA7O_qikkUKL63S6W1h7WYjrZt5_tmjhqIm5fvt6QGCNelA7BUlMoDJnWD0X-gk6yQenROaqwUPwqqG5YbET1iBWIprzPcwr1MAjmNEakQ/s4096/IMG_20201205_202943479_BURST001_COMP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZnd4mMum-rvfS9e9nVacMd4NtDCBcA7O_qikkUKL63S6W1h7WYjrZt5_tmjhqIm5fvt6QGCNelA7BUlMoDJnWD0X-gk6yQenROaqwUPwqqG5YbET1iBWIprzPcwr1MAjmNEakQ/w480-h640/IMG_20201205_202943479_BURST001_COMP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lastly, I tried a new recipe this week. I've always loved these cookies but never tried to make them. When <a href="https://www.kingarthurbaking.com/recipes/chocolate-crinkles-recipe?utm_source=instagram&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=content&utm_term=curalate_like2buy_yfO2JlI2__060cb777-5778-4409-919c-e72a3570ea32&crl8_id=060cb777-5778-4409-919c-e72a3570ea32" target="_blank">King Arthur Bakery put a recipe</a> up in their feed, that was the tipping point I needed.</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-78747841577434211672020-11-30T21:02:00.000-06:002020-11-30T21:02:18.370-06:00End of the month<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: white;">Today is the last day of my blog posting month.</i></span> I didn't make my goal of thirty new posts. I did pay attention to the need for other things to be more important. The harder thing to do was to go back and write after missing a day. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I understand why the popularity of blogging has passed. Our sources of input have expanded. Instagram lets me see a glimpse of so many people without taking time to read much text. </p><p style="text-align: center;">There are Instagram accounts that do post blog length material.<span style="font-size: medium;"> <a href="https://www.humansofnewyork.com/" target="_blank"><i>Humans of New York</i> </a></span>is one I read every single time it comes up in my feed. It has longer pieces of writing combined with multiple photos that tell a story. It gives a glimpse into the lives of such a wide variety of people, and serves the purpose of humanizing them instead of reducing them to caricatures. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Purpose.</span></i><i style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"> </i>I'm aware when blogging nearly daily for a month that I do not have a purpose for this blog. This month the purpose has been to intentionally write. Maybe that's enough? I worry that I'm wearing out my kind friends with too much meandering writing. Like this post, for example. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Most of what I write is an attempt to find wisdom and gratitude in what I experience. That is worthwhile for me, but I don't know that it is a worthwhile purpose for a blog.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And then there is the whole question of knowing how many times it has been seen, and what that means, and parsing out why I even look at that...is it an indicator of something important...is it stupid to look? or vanity?</p><p style="text-align: center;">*****</p><p style="text-align: center;">At any rate, here are a few bits from my day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITM7k63-aLZpUQcYed1JTJWzQiluJvWL0oi1t8M-V3G_TodXCCj_l6fSaJtKn-69OSYVgMwwLs_jSpd1rr7RKRNBzmoq8AfuPZgYZCeCw10i2nD4KJVhD3CbG_0xIWEDM1PyPkg/s4096/IMG_20201130_082753203_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITM7k63-aLZpUQcYed1JTJWzQiluJvWL0oi1t8M-V3G_TodXCCj_l6fSaJtKn-69OSYVgMwwLs_jSpd1rr7RKRNBzmoq8AfuPZgYZCeCw10i2nD4KJVhD3CbG_0xIWEDM1PyPkg/w480-h640/IMG_20201130_082753203_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Breakfast.</span></i><i style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"> </i>I posted about my freezer, one third full of fruit. This is how a lot of it gets used. Rolled oats from <a href="https://www.prairy.com/market/" target="_blank">Prairy Market and Deli</a>. Home made yogurt. Fruit from the freezer. Every day. I like a few routines that I don't have to think about. I know I will enjoy it. I can change it up if I want, but most days, this combination is exactly what I want. Why you need to know that is unclear, but it is one of the first things I'm thankful for each day.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Devotions.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></span>There are too many wonderful choices for Advent contemplation. I need to get beyond the urgency to choose the best one.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Connection</span><span style="font-size: large;">. </span></i></span>Today, we got a nice long phone call to catch up with one of our kids who missed our family zoom yesterday. Chuck and I were both inside so we could share the visit. It was good.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Work/accountability.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></span>I did a bit of anti-procrastination, and finally got my health insurance from the Marketplace for next year. I'm not sure when the deadline is, but from the number of urgent emails I've received regarding losing my health insurance, it must be soon. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Part of the day was spent <i style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">paying attention</i> to stressors. I have found myself more easily irritated, and needed to take time with that. Sometimes irritation is legitimate, of course, but sometimes it is blaming someone else for the way I feel when I'm not taking care of myself. Taking care of myself has to be honest, and whole. Today I needed rest, some time alone, some clearing of the chaos on the table, and some honesty with myself about which parts of irritation were mine to control. It wasn't a time to beat myself up, thank goodness, but rather a granting myself permission to take responsibility. It was freeing, rather than heavy.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: large;">And I still had time for a walk.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3K3HWpoNwYsf4CYItEymr1BRtxrPfJjtx0NjBc2aD_52fRVxlHrLbCUn8fWAu6G0LRpNTBGPEQw_dOKt9dCTH5GKQfF6osDtGJq3BYXgAp0zQE1sG5Aljo6OSg7YLuITn2V8TA/s4096/IMG_20201130_170005856_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3K3HWpoNwYsf4CYItEymr1BRtxrPfJjtx0NjBc2aD_52fRVxlHrLbCUn8fWAu6G0LRpNTBGPEQw_dOKt9dCTH5GKQfF6osDtGJq3BYXgAp0zQE1sG5Aljo6OSg7YLuITn2V8TA/w480-h640/IMG_20201130_170005856_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-EffeSMPQe4_xY9D8sue_UlPBTNn9jBJEp_H8znJ9XVUlLjcj4_DyAm3fNuqqfWnQ9zaZBqoEBt5ApksUeYDPT9llN3LIIaWP8yMA7YqEe81f_vpWa4V1ZYh9Fyj5NMBD93qMg/s4096/IMG_20201130_170852247_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-EffeSMPQe4_xY9D8sue_UlPBTNn9jBJEp_H8znJ9XVUlLjcj4_DyAm3fNuqqfWnQ9zaZBqoEBt5ApksUeYDPT9llN3LIIaWP8yMA7YqEe81f_vpWa4V1ZYh9Fyj5NMBD93qMg/w640-h480/IMG_20201130_170852247_MP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />There is an airplane landing at the nearby airport in this photo, not a dirty camera lens or UFO.<p></p><p style="text-align: center;">This evening after supper, we listened to Ibram Kendi reading his book, <a href="https://www.ibramxkendi.com/how-to-be-an-antiracist-1" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><u>How to be an Anti-racist</u>.</i></span></a> This is my second time through, but Chuck is hearing it for the first time. How can someone so young be so wise?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Now for a little relaxation...we are in the last season of West Wing, and it leaves Netflix before the end of December. </p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-21752313891797977072020-11-29T23:10:00.000-06:002020-11-29T23:10:38.704-06:00Kindergarten Turkey Drawing, etc.<p style="text-align: center;"> Last evening, my small group met for the most unusual Thanksgiving meeting I can remember in my thirty-five years of small group. We laughed a lot and tried multiple methods for sharing our thankfulness and sharing our lives with each other. Our leader for the evening loves creativity, and led us to be creative ourselves.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Remember drawing around your hand in Kindergarten to make a turkey picture?</p><p style="text-align: center;">We were supposed to do that, but I wanted to draw a turkey the way my granddaughter was taught, so I did my own drawing. We were to write things we were thankful for around the turkey. We would get points for all the things we listed that were not on anyone else's list. I mistakenly assumed we were to list the same number of items as feathers in the turkey's tail, so I did not win. My sketch was pretty rough, initially, but I added shading during other parts of our meeting until it looked like this.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgPxGuppgHTl16XvCM2kx-04efUcxjQjAtbnnT1mhqtfgfJZSvoH7a1OK6vRKde4mszfIWOgQgcCovy0H4lPVAmN75vN1dkXs_BAgm759CVNpiGFjZHMve-kyzJCvTgfkEEkCqA/s4096/IMG_20201129_210918614_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgPxGuppgHTl16XvCM2kx-04efUcxjQjAtbnnT1mhqtfgfJZSvoH7a1OK6vRKde4mszfIWOgQgcCovy0H4lPVAmN75vN1dkXs_BAgm759CVNpiGFjZHMve-kyzJCvTgfkEEkCqA/w480-h640/IMG_20201129_210918614_MP.jpg" title="Kindergarten turkey" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Another friend listened more closely to the instructions about getting points for all the unique things she was thankful for. She almost did not get her turkey drawn because she began with the list, and it was awe inspiring. The best thing about it was that she had no need to ponder what she was thankful for. She couldn't write fast enough to get it all down in the time allotted.</p><p style="text-align: center;">One of the other things we did was write haiku poems to do our sharing. Since I'd just watched my grandson write his first haiku, I really warmed to this task and managed to do six before the time was up. Some were written as two part stanzas, which I don't really believe count for haiku, but I'm not an expert. </p><div style="text-align: center;">Writing every day</div><div style="text-align: center;">forces me to open eyes</div><div style="text-align: center;">to routine wonder.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Writing every day</div><div style="text-align: center;">makes me question whether I</div><div style="text-align: center;">have words worth writing.</div><p style="text-align: center;">And...</p><div style="text-align: center;">Chaos in the world</div><div style="text-align: center;">leaves me desperately craving</div><div style="text-align: center;">order in my house.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Chaos in the world</div><div style="text-align: center;">leaves me dull and overtired</div><div style="text-align: center;">so I do not clean.</div><p style="text-align: center;">During our evening together, I felt new appreciation for the differences between us and how each individual adds to this group. </p><p style="text-align: center;">*****</p><p style="text-align: center;">I had a long walk with the dog yesterday. I may go back to get some of these berries to add color to my winter decorating. (because I AM cleaning, after all, to get some order into my house). I also saw evidence of a couple of deer and a human, who managed to leave a souvenir exactly in the middle of the road.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZ4rCL8hToqs0DNHU5EwZdpOnFdys3XUQAxaI-tXWVUbbPMCtB0pYsvnjSACvEl6hppC699fD5l5luTwncXlpfsHFAI12nPcfzmB5yBWL6Ot10zjgCyUKdpq8GtvoxlSpdJn0dg/s4096/IMG_20201128_092823254_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZ4rCL8hToqs0DNHU5EwZdpOnFdys3XUQAxaI-tXWVUbbPMCtB0pYsvnjSACvEl6hppC699fD5l5luTwncXlpfsHFAI12nPcfzmB5yBWL6Ot10zjgCyUKdpq8GtvoxlSpdJn0dg/w480-h640/IMG_20201128_092823254_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWFfZs1CGSca6jrBB9PECjsEz7JmxPxtWb4yMtqE7lQ-pFxHc_34ulP09KNns4U75LYqywinMYeZsUdemuLInn5c1Y_qKHODv87QwfeCA1ind3Z91jxS_MUPMxsrzuMpHwcuboA/s4096/IMG_20201128_093158677_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWFfZs1CGSca6jrBB9PECjsEz7JmxPxtWb4yMtqE7lQ-pFxHc_34ulP09KNns4U75LYqywinMYeZsUdemuLInn5c1Y_qKHODv87QwfeCA1ind3Z91jxS_MUPMxsrzuMpHwcuboA/w480-h640/IMG_20201128_093158677_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKyGmDKPEiijTTpDKa0cngY5zoS8T0SKLM-JGAISlMloDex0lFeKEx4YqMzHTcfU-H6BypPhDHABahOVSMmTdeIijsQzQek_6Go4c40JMPkNyVB9OTuFNpGmf8g1S9KJxUcVe1A/s4096/IMG_20201128_094113139_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKyGmDKPEiijTTpDKa0cngY5zoS8T0SKLM-JGAISlMloDex0lFeKEx4YqMzHTcfU-H6BypPhDHABahOVSMmTdeIijsQzQek_6Go4c40JMPkNyVB9OTuFNpGmf8g1S9KJxUcVe1A/w480-h640/IMG_20201128_094113139_MP.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">I took it home to my trash. Maybe a tiny bit more order in the world will help.</p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33568807.post-10653717694191163162020-11-27T23:25:00.001-06:002020-12-17T21:59:40.271-06:00From Thanksgiving to Christmas<p> With Thanksgiving past, I began to think about Christmas today. Usually our Thanksgiving takes the whole weekend with large family gatherings, and I almost never realize the first Sunday of Advent is on its way until it is already upon us.</p><p>I've frequently dragged my feet on decorating, enough so that our younger daughter began taking things into her own hands when she still lived at home. I don't think I've put up the tree since Mom died, but that first year after she died, the ceramic tree I brought home from her house stayed out the whole year.</p><p>It will come out again this year, but for now, my main goal was some kind of arrangement for advent candles. Ours will be votives this year, on a tray with some artificial greenery and some shiny strings of beads. I'm burning them tonight to use up the bits of old candles and will clean the glass for fresh candles to be ready on Sunday.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_e5DJPwHRHXvop4XjEeEUol1LO9upda7XvcM02SPzSJZIJyiIVch_kwxh6-eIbS_hv_2YN63TrT0E8aD5xtNcMqdXX_0a9fAY47MiuNrViOUBgmuutln3bUjGPCNu0tIqfOZGQ/s1841/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1694" data-original-width="1841" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_e5DJPwHRHXvop4XjEeEUol1LO9upda7XvcM02SPzSJZIJyiIVch_kwxh6-eIbS_hv_2YN63TrT0E8aD5xtNcMqdXX_0a9fAY47MiuNrViOUBgmuutln3bUjGPCNu0tIqfOZGQ/w400-h368/image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We enjoyed our first Christmas gift today, a virtual <a href="https://www.folkmusic.com/" target="_blank">John McCutcheon</a> concert on <a href="https://www.mandolin.com/" target="_blank">Mandolin</a>. This is a platform that allows artists to still sell tickets and perform during a pandemic. We don't have our TV screen linked to our computer, and the better speakers are at the computer anyway, so we moved some comfortable chairs over to the computer desk to watch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AVnS0bF8lTcFhYUgeGz6wmQEbwiNTFAbbo_vbR9I6lgY3UPqvw-aVGT0WsY9WaSIE6gmXBR-JGupz_8WIm1Lx3mNyD178NaM8lDST8jUm5rrRN54L-pSmBGH6D6Ou3VpynsxpQ/s2592/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AVnS0bF8lTcFhYUgeGz6wmQEbwiNTFAbbo_vbR9I6lgY3UPqvw-aVGT0WsY9WaSIE6gmXBR-JGupz_8WIm1Lx3mNyD178NaM8lDST8jUm5rrRN54L-pSmBGH6D6Ou3VpynsxpQ/w480-h640/image.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I did take a picture of the screen while he was singing, but I don't know that it's permissible to post that. We do post stage shots from Winfield concerts, but this seems different somehow. At any rate, it was a sweet and quiet evening listening to many songs we'd heard before, and also some new ones. Christmas in the Trenches, and Calling All the Children Home, and of course, How Can I Keep From Singing, all still are achingly beautiful favorites. It is such a bittersweet thing to hear these alone at home instead of in a crowd, in the dark, singing along and wiping our eyes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Another sweet thing today was a zoom time to celebrate the birth of another child in the Regier family. There have been three this year during this time of separation. It was good to see faces and hear voices and laughter again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tomorrow evening is small group. We trade leadership responsibilities and our leader for tomorrow has sent us a preparation list giving rise to the anticipation of a very special Thanksgiving celebration, so I'll likely not be writing a post tomorrow. Stay safe, and enjoy your weekend.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>vintage navelgazerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16772121160166564247noreply@blogger.com0