Hey, I've posted 1000 posts!! Or so the chart in the back room of the Shoe told me right before I came onstage here.
We're having a great time in Savannah. Paul and I never do this sort of thing, just doing the relaxing tourist thing among busloads of retired folks in pastel capris and polo shirts and sunglasses or umbrellas. Last night we ate at a little sidewalk cafe. This is not something we do. But we did. Ah, the memories.
Today we toured the old Catholic church and the Jewish temple, both built in the same Gothic style. Just a few months after the colony was formed here, a boatload of 42 Jews from Spain and Portugal sailed in, looking for a safe place to settle. The small community here was dying of dysentery and typhoid and other swamp diseases, and the doctor on the ship saved their lives. Some six months later the word came from General Oglethorpe's supervisor that he was not to let Jews settle in Savannah. (Or Catholics or lawyers) He said, Too Bad For You, they're already here.
It's no wonder there were swamp diseases here. The Low Country, they call it. The elevation is about 2 feet, with scummy little canals here and there around town and if you go driving out of town it seems like most of the land beside the road is damp and marshy. And probably alive with alligators and rattlesnakes. "RATTLESNAKE ROUNDUP" advertise a few billboards along the main highway. It's in March. We don't plan to attend.
We spent some time on the riverfront today, where the Savannah River comes in off the ocean and brings monstrosities of ocean vessels with it. It gave me quite a turn when I looked down the street the first day and at the end were these three-story buildings and behind them was another building but it was moving slowly sideways. It was a big merchant ship from afar of course.
Along the riverfront is the old cotton shipping district, where the "factors" or brokers worked in a long row of brick buildings and workers took 400-lb bales of cotton down the cobbled streets to the ships. The streets and walls are made of stone that used to come from England as ballast for the empty ships, which would then unload the stones and reload the ships with cotton and send it back to the mills as per North and South, that Elizabeth Gaskell book I just read. And then the locals would use the stones to pave the roads and stuff.
We haven't heard as much of that deep Southern drawl as I was hoping. Are all the tour guides transplants from elsewhere or what?
But both the host and waitress at the seafood restaurant this evening had teeth missing, which must mean something profound about the culture.
We are staying at the Hilton which is wonderful but has its drawbacks if you are frugal Mennonites from Oregon, but that is a subject for another day.
Quote of the Day:
"Fun Family Festival!!"
--the billboard about the Rattlesnake Roundup
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Ministers' Weekend
Ministers' conventions don't sound like Disneyland, exactly, but there's something about them that's utterly refreshing. Well, I can't speak for all of them, exactly, but the BMA ministers' weekend qualifies.
I felt very ministered to, maybe that was it. A lot of people told me they've been reading my blog, which somehow didn't freak me out as badly as before. A number of women impulsively put their arms around me and prayed for wisdom with decisions regarding Emily, and for peace for my mom-heart, and that was a balm in Gilead.
We should all be both shepherds and sheep. I don't think of myself as much of a taker-care-of-er of church people, but realized from how people ministered to me that I seldom if ever ask or expect anyone to take care of me. Anyway, we all have gifts with which to take care of others. we all have gaps and needs where we need others to take care of us. Let's do that.
From the speakers I learned practical ways to encourage the congregation to reach out to unchurched neighbors, and from an ex-Amish speaker I learned and affirmed some of the complicated dynamics of German-culture responses to life. We affirm "doers," he said, which is why you get the Mennonites to organize a benefit auction or go rebuild after a flood. But we also grow up learning that if you want praise from your parents, you work harder and get more done. And he didn't say this, but I know it: woe if you're a dreamy, distracted, scholarly sort. And he said in that mysterious, roundabout way that counselor-types say things, that this mindset leads to moral issues at times, and we as church leaders we need to get to the root of things. You know, counselor types are fine people, but sometimes I want to say, Just say it already.
And of course I heard speakers that I would love to go home and describe in vivid detail at the supper table, and really I try to be charitable about this being a minister's wife and all but oh my, people just have such fascinating quirks.
[Note: if you hear me speak, you all have permission to go home and imitate me at the supper table.]
The ladies' tea was all that a ladies' tea should be, with amazing decorations in pink and black, and efficient servers, and heart-shaped cookies, and very pleasant company.
And now I'm in Philadelphia, headed for Florida/Georgia, but our plane is delayed, and as Ben would say we're shooting 2 for 2, so maybe this will happen every time we head to Florida.
We stayed with our friends Leonard and Sharon, who lost a daughter last August. It is astonishing to me how warm and empathetic people who have undergone a great tragedy are to those of us who are enduring much less.
Quote of the Day:
"We have to be careful or we'll get mentioned on her blog!"
--a lady at my table at the tea. I think it was the one with that cool scarf tied artfully around her neck, one of the Fashionable and Cool Ministers' Wives
I felt very ministered to, maybe that was it. A lot of people told me they've been reading my blog, which somehow didn't freak me out as badly as before. A number of women impulsively put their arms around me and prayed for wisdom with decisions regarding Emily, and for peace for my mom-heart, and that was a balm in Gilead.
We should all be both shepherds and sheep. I don't think of myself as much of a taker-care-of-er of church people, but realized from how people ministered to me that I seldom if ever ask or expect anyone to take care of me. Anyway, we all have gifts with which to take care of others. we all have gaps and needs where we need others to take care of us. Let's do that.
From the speakers I learned practical ways to encourage the congregation to reach out to unchurched neighbors, and from an ex-Amish speaker I learned and affirmed some of the complicated dynamics of German-culture responses to life. We affirm "doers," he said, which is why you get the Mennonites to organize a benefit auction or go rebuild after a flood. But we also grow up learning that if you want praise from your parents, you work harder and get more done. And he didn't say this, but I know it: woe if you're a dreamy, distracted, scholarly sort. And he said in that mysterious, roundabout way that counselor-types say things, that this mindset leads to moral issues at times, and we as church leaders we need to get to the root of things. You know, counselor types are fine people, but sometimes I want to say, Just say it already.
And of course I heard speakers that I would love to go home and describe in vivid detail at the supper table, and really I try to be charitable about this being a minister's wife and all but oh my, people just have such fascinating quirks.
[Note: if you hear me speak, you all have permission to go home and imitate me at the supper table.]
The ladies' tea was all that a ladies' tea should be, with amazing decorations in pink and black, and efficient servers, and heart-shaped cookies, and very pleasant company.
And now I'm in Philadelphia, headed for Florida/Georgia, but our plane is delayed, and as Ben would say we're shooting 2 for 2, so maybe this will happen every time we head to Florida.
We stayed with our friends Leonard and Sharon, who lost a daughter last August. It is astonishing to me how warm and empathetic people who have undergone a great tragedy are to those of us who are enduring much less.
Quote of the Day:
"We have to be careful or we'll get mentioned on her blog!"
--a lady at my table at the tea. I think it was the one with that cool scarf tied artfully around her neck, one of the Fashionable and Cool Ministers' Wives
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Travels
Paul and I are off on a trip that's part practical--a BMA ministers' convention in Ohio--and part romantic--four days in Savannah, Georgia, to celebrate our 25th anniversary.
In the Phoenix airport we had a true Mennonite Moment.
So we're sitting there and this family walks by, Mom, Dad, three boys. The mom had her hair up and a long skirt on, which always catches my eye, being the same myself. They sat beside us. I took in the details like a good Mennonite. . . hmmm, long skirt and hair up, but no head covering, and a wedding band but no other jewelry. Probably Pentecostal. Not Holiness. And probably not that strange group in the Midwest that doesn't give their own group a name so everyone else gives them awful nicknames--we always knew them as The Black Stockings.
So being a true daughter of my curious dad I leaned over and asked, if she doesn't mind my asking, what religious group is she with. And she said, "Mennonite."
Oh! I had mis-read the signs, terrible of me, but they turned out to be CMC, which I am not as familiar with the nuances of.
Actually, they're from Grantsville, Maryland. Larry and Kay B. The Menno-wheels began turning. Ida Marie Miller! Yes, they know Ida Marie. Then Paul thought of the most obvious connection: "Do you know Barb Smucker?" Light dawned in their eyes. That's why Paul looked so familiar! Of course! Barb goes to their church.
Many more happy connections followed. Larry is a brother to Bill whose wife is Dorcas who I have talked with a few times both real and electronic plus they're friends of Rosie's. And his dad lives in Minnesota and goes to Mom and Dad's church. And Kay's cousin is Orpha who is married to Uncle James.
What fun.
And there was one odd twist in the plot.
Years ago Kenneth the brother-in-law built a piano bench for Paul's mom and dad. We bought it and the piano when we got the house. Recently we decided to retire the bench and use a chair instead since it takes up too much room. We offered the bench to anyone in the family who wants it, and Barb said she'd take it.
But how to get it to her out there in Pennsylvania?
Paul's mom decided to have it mailed to Barb for her birthday. Paul said there has to be a less expensive way, but none of us came up with any. Then Paul offered to pack it as one of our luggage and have Barb pick it up when we arrived at the Pittsburgh airport. But Barb didn't want to drive that far for it.
So it was mailed.
Had we omnisciently known everything, we could have taken it with us, and Larry and Kay could have taken it with them, and given it to Barb at church on Sunday.
How bizarre is that?
Quote of the Day:
"Get ready for lots of snow!"
--about a dozen people, in the last week and en route, when I said we're going to Ohio. They were right. It reminds me of Montana after the blizzard that delayed Neil's funeral.
In the Phoenix airport we had a true Mennonite Moment.
So we're sitting there and this family walks by, Mom, Dad, three boys. The mom had her hair up and a long skirt on, which always catches my eye, being the same myself. They sat beside us. I took in the details like a good Mennonite. . . hmmm, long skirt and hair up, but no head covering, and a wedding band but no other jewelry. Probably Pentecostal. Not Holiness. And probably not that strange group in the Midwest that doesn't give their own group a name so everyone else gives them awful nicknames--we always knew them as The Black Stockings.
So being a true daughter of my curious dad I leaned over and asked, if she doesn't mind my asking, what religious group is she with. And she said, "Mennonite."
Oh! I had mis-read the signs, terrible of me, but they turned out to be CMC, which I am not as familiar with the nuances of.
Actually, they're from Grantsville, Maryland. Larry and Kay B. The Menno-wheels began turning. Ida Marie Miller! Yes, they know Ida Marie. Then Paul thought of the most obvious connection: "Do you know Barb Smucker?" Light dawned in their eyes. That's why Paul looked so familiar! Of course! Barb goes to their church.
Many more happy connections followed. Larry is a brother to Bill whose wife is Dorcas who I have talked with a few times both real and electronic plus they're friends of Rosie's. And his dad lives in Minnesota and goes to Mom and Dad's church. And Kay's cousin is Orpha who is married to Uncle James.
What fun.
And there was one odd twist in the plot.
Years ago Kenneth the brother-in-law built a piano bench for Paul's mom and dad. We bought it and the piano when we got the house. Recently we decided to retire the bench and use a chair instead since it takes up too much room. We offered the bench to anyone in the family who wants it, and Barb said she'd take it.
But how to get it to her out there in Pennsylvania?
Paul's mom decided to have it mailed to Barb for her birthday. Paul said there has to be a less expensive way, but none of us came up with any. Then Paul offered to pack it as one of our luggage and have Barb pick it up when we arrived at the Pittsburgh airport. But Barb didn't want to drive that far for it.
So it was mailed.
Had we omnisciently known everything, we could have taken it with us, and Larry and Kay could have taken it with them, and given it to Barb at church on Sunday.
How bizarre is that?
Quote of the Day:
"Get ready for lots of snow!"
--about a dozen people, in the last week and en route, when I said we're going to Ohio. They were right. It reminds me of Montana after the blizzard that delayed Neil's funeral.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Kitchen Pix: Not Yet
A number of people have asked me to post pictures of my new kitchen. I intend to do that as soon as the tile backsplash is in. My wonderful little accent tiles just arrived in the mail from Mexico a couple of days ago, so it shouldn't be too long.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Stunned
Two years ago our friends Dennis and Arlene got a 2-day-old foster baby. They hadn't asked for another foster child, as their hands were full with their four older children. But how could they say no? So they took in "Sam" and he grew plump and happy in their wild and busy household, and learned to walk and talk, and is in the family pictures.
And then the Children's-Services committee had to decide who should adopt him--Dennis and Arlene, or an uncle in another state who is raising Sam's half-brother? And, I should add, who has never met Sam or made an effort to be involved in his life.
The committee met this morning and decided that Sam should go to the uncle.
We are all devastated, looking on, but Dennis and Arlene's grief isn't to be described.
The idea of Children's Services is to prevent child abuse. What irony.
And then the Children's-Services committee had to decide who should adopt him--Dennis and Arlene, or an uncle in another state who is raising Sam's half-brother? And, I should add, who has never met Sam or made an effort to be involved in his life.
The committee met this morning and decided that Sam should go to the uncle.
We are all devastated, looking on, but Dennis and Arlene's grief isn't to be described.
The idea of Children's Services is to prevent child abuse. What irony.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Jury-duty story
The other day a reporter for the Albany Democrat-Herald called up Paul and said he found out that the Mennonites in the area are exempt from jury duty if they present a letter from their church. Paul said that was true. Could Paul send him a copy of the letter? Sure. So Paul faxed him one.
The reporter wanted to include Paul's picture but Paul didn't feel comfortable with that and the reporter was cooperative.
The article appeared on the front page of the paper yesterday. It was entitled "12 Angry Mennonites? Not in Linn County courts." Haha, clever, I thought.
It was a nice, factual article. Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to "get" the title.
Paul and the other ministers discussed it at prayer meeting this evening, I am told, and were all three mystified as to why in the world they chose that title. A local Mennonite guy wrote to the paper and said while he himself does jury duty, he felt the title was disrespectful to those who don't.
The paper replied, apologetically, that they got a bit carried away. See, there's an old play called Twelve Angry Men which we read in Mr. Rubis's English class in high school. As I recall, the entire drama takes place in one room, with this jury of twelve men debating whether the guy is guilty or innocent, and the tension ratchets up as the play goes on.
So, a story about Mennonites not doing jury duty? How could they resist? Twelve Angry Mennonites. . .
The three ministers, and I would imagine the letter-writer, all had plenty of high school and even a bit of college, and yet they never made this connection.
I think that's kind of troubling. But maybe I just had a better English teacher than most.
Quote of the Day:
"We got carried away trying to be clever by referring to Reginald Rose’s teleplay from the 1950s, “Twelve Angry Men.” We regret causing offense."
--the Democrat-Herald
The reporter wanted to include Paul's picture but Paul didn't feel comfortable with that and the reporter was cooperative.
The article appeared on the front page of the paper yesterday. It was entitled "12 Angry Mennonites? Not in Linn County courts." Haha, clever, I thought.
It was a nice, factual article. Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to "get" the title.
Paul and the other ministers discussed it at prayer meeting this evening, I am told, and were all three mystified as to why in the world they chose that title. A local Mennonite guy wrote to the paper and said while he himself does jury duty, he felt the title was disrespectful to those who don't.
The paper replied, apologetically, that they got a bit carried away. See, there's an old play called Twelve Angry Men which we read in Mr. Rubis's English class in high school. As I recall, the entire drama takes place in one room, with this jury of twelve men debating whether the guy is guilty or innocent, and the tension ratchets up as the play goes on.
So, a story about Mennonites not doing jury duty? How could they resist? Twelve Angry Mennonites. . .
The three ministers, and I would imagine the letter-writer, all had plenty of high school and even a bit of college, and yet they never made this connection.
I think that's kind of troubling. But maybe I just had a better English teacher than most.
Quote of the Day:
"We got carried away trying to be clever by referring to Reginald Rose’s teleplay from the 1950s, “Twelve Angry Men.” We regret causing offense."
--the Democrat-Herald
Author Envy
I was supposed to go talk to a bunch of third graders this morning but I'm down with this stomach flu so am home in fleece pajamas instead, no longer barfing but still running a fever and spending too much time on the internet.
I vanity-googled my name and came up with this church bulletin item which was not good for my vanity:
Ordinary Days, Upstairs the Peasants are Revolting, Downstairs the Queen is
Knitting, all by Dorcas Smucker. She is a Mennonite columnist for the
Harrisburg Gazette in Oregon, and writes about her family and their
activities in a humerous tone.
The Harrisburg Gazette, indeed. And humerous, like that bone in your arm. Sigh.
Everyone seems to be talking about The Pioneer Woman and her cookbook. So I did some research. She started blogging in 2006 and soon became famous for her writing and photos and most of all for her recipes that she illustrated with step-by-step photographs. And recently she published a cookbook that (Tom T. tells me) hit #1 on the New York times bestseller list its second week out, and now it's 88 on Amazon.
And frankly I am jealous.
Isn't that funny how we save our envy for people in the same field as us? Music groups, sports figures, artists--they can all come and go and it never crosses my mind to be jealous of their success. When AHQ was ratcheting up the musical ladder I rooted for them and did all I could to promote them.
But along comes a mom-blogger-writer and does well and I think "Humph!"
The dumb thing here is that I know better than most how much of writing success is sheer luck and providence. And I'm sure that PW in her wildest dreams never saw this coming and couldn't have made it happen--it was just timing and chemistry and God-given talents and ideas that all came together.
But I'd love to know, do others do this? You AHQ guys, did you compare yourselves with the Kings Singers or whoever back in the day, track their success, and think the occasional envious "Humph!"?? Do dairy farmers compare their herd with the neighbor's, does Smuckers keep an eye on Welch's, did nephew Justin envy other basketball players their height or abilities? Come to think of it, Paul seems to be acutely aware of how all the neighboring warehouses are doing, how much they charge, and who decided to take their seed to Smiths instead of Hayworth. Not that he would admit to any jealousy, we know this. He just logically tracks the facts and figures.
Out at the coast we started watching Beth Moore's Bible study series on the book of Esther, and I brought the DVDs home to watch because they have some great material for a talk I was assigned next month on The Joy of Being a Woman.
I am very intrigued with Beth Moore and her speaking style. Not jealous, mind you, because I don't teach Bible studies and am therefore not competing with her. But her speaking style is incredibly intense. She paces back and forth, her eyes are wide open like she just had a 16-oz. white chocolate mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso, she keeps her hands in the air with her arm muscles tight, her voice is constantly emphatic. "It makes me tired to watch her," said my friend Debbie.
To put it gently, I don't talk like Beth Moore. In fact, I had someone tell me that I have a good voice for putting people to sleep, and I know she was right, because whenever there are senior citizens in the audience, at least one of them falls asleep. I save the Beth Moore intensity for when the boys are lighting WD-40 in the upstairs bedroom or when they take 200 steps across the field with their eyes closed and spill the bucket of blackberries in the fence row.
But I'm wondering, would I be more effective if I got more excited?
Meanwhile, I recommend this study on Esther. Our history is tied in with our destiny, Beth says, and much as you'd like to forget the one and focus on the other, the two are inseparable. Also, I found this intriguing--quoted as I remember it--"God works in what we are NOT. People come to me and say, 'But I can't do this or that, I can't talk like you...' Well guess what. Neither can I. NEITHER CAN I."
Quote of the Day:
[when we were talking about Paul co-signing for Matt's new apartment, since he's been house-sitting up till now and didn't have a rental history]
"Whenever you guys say 'co-sign' I immediately think adjacent over hypotenuse."
--Ben
I vanity-googled my name and came up with this church bulletin item which was not good for my vanity:
Ordinary Days, Upstairs the Peasants are Revolting, Downstairs the Queen is
Knitting, all by Dorcas Smucker. She is a Mennonite columnist for the
Harrisburg Gazette in Oregon, and writes about her family and their
activities in a humerous tone.
The Harrisburg Gazette, indeed. And humerous, like that bone in your arm. Sigh.
Everyone seems to be talking about The Pioneer Woman and her cookbook. So I did some research. She started blogging in 2006 and soon became famous for her writing and photos and most of all for her recipes that she illustrated with step-by-step photographs. And recently she published a cookbook that (Tom T. tells me) hit #1 on the New York times bestseller list its second week out, and now it's 88 on Amazon.
And frankly I am jealous.
Isn't that funny how we save our envy for people in the same field as us? Music groups, sports figures, artists--they can all come and go and it never crosses my mind to be jealous of their success. When AHQ was ratcheting up the musical ladder I rooted for them and did all I could to promote them.
But along comes a mom-blogger-writer and does well and I think "Humph!"
The dumb thing here is that I know better than most how much of writing success is sheer luck and providence. And I'm sure that PW in her wildest dreams never saw this coming and couldn't have made it happen--it was just timing and chemistry and God-given talents and ideas that all came together.
But I'd love to know, do others do this? You AHQ guys, did you compare yourselves with the Kings Singers or whoever back in the day, track their success, and think the occasional envious "Humph!"?? Do dairy farmers compare their herd with the neighbor's, does Smuckers keep an eye on Welch's, did nephew Justin envy other basketball players their height or abilities? Come to think of it, Paul seems to be acutely aware of how all the neighboring warehouses are doing, how much they charge, and who decided to take their seed to Smiths instead of Hayworth. Not that he would admit to any jealousy, we know this. He just logically tracks the facts and figures.
Out at the coast we started watching Beth Moore's Bible study series on the book of Esther, and I brought the DVDs home to watch because they have some great material for a talk I was assigned next month on The Joy of Being a Woman.
I am very intrigued with Beth Moore and her speaking style. Not jealous, mind you, because I don't teach Bible studies and am therefore not competing with her. But her speaking style is incredibly intense. She paces back and forth, her eyes are wide open like she just had a 16-oz. white chocolate mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso, she keeps her hands in the air with her arm muscles tight, her voice is constantly emphatic. "It makes me tired to watch her," said my friend Debbie.
To put it gently, I don't talk like Beth Moore. In fact, I had someone tell me that I have a good voice for putting people to sleep, and I know she was right, because whenever there are senior citizens in the audience, at least one of them falls asleep. I save the Beth Moore intensity for when the boys are lighting WD-40 in the upstairs bedroom or when they take 200 steps across the field with their eyes closed and spill the bucket of blackberries in the fence row.
But I'm wondering, would I be more effective if I got more excited?
Meanwhile, I recommend this study on Esther. Our history is tied in with our destiny, Beth says, and much as you'd like to forget the one and focus on the other, the two are inseparable. Also, I found this intriguing--quoted as I remember it--"God works in what we are NOT. People come to me and say, 'But I can't do this or that, I can't talk like you...' Well guess what. Neither can I. NEITHER CAN I."
Quote of the Day:
[when we were talking about Paul co-signing for Matt's new apartment, since he's been house-sitting up till now and didn't have a rental history]
"Whenever you guys say 'co-sign' I immediately think adjacent over hypotenuse."
--Ben
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Ladies' Retreat
What is it about those ladies' weekends at the coast? We start with the basic ingredients--up to 20 women, lots of food, inspirational videos, shopping on Saturday afternoon, a hot tub, steep steps down to the beach, Trish on her knees trying to get the video player to work.
And somehow, like eggs and flour and sugar and milk and baking powder turning into a Sunday dinner cake, all the ingredients of the weekend turn into something bigger and better than the ingredients themselves.
We talk around the table while eating to-die-for brownies and we pile eight in a hot tub and talk, and we find room for four, sitting cross-legged on the king-size bed and pray together and talk some more, and we sit on the couches and talk.
I learned about new uses for band-aids and concerns about the youth and Lora's little niece's death and which woman feels like she doesn't fit the feminine stereotype and how Brenda's son in Montana saw a timber wolf and the rooster that attacked Arlene.
We discussed whether or not that wicked relative of "Sally's" is actually saved and what we all bought at the outlet malls and do you ever try on new Mennonite hairstyles [yes, and I realize flat and slick is not for ladies with thinning, graying hair] and how can we all reach out to "Jill" and matchmaking and our husbands trying to fix our problems vs. just sympathizing and of course our children and all their issues and personalities. And lots more that can never be mentioned in a public forum and must remain forever sealed.
I leave, every year, with that unspeakable relief of knowing that I'm not alone.
Quote of the Day:
"Mom, the first daffodil is on the table!"
--Jenny. What's with this? More times than not, I come home from the retreat and the first daffodils are blooming.
And somehow, like eggs and flour and sugar and milk and baking powder turning into a Sunday dinner cake, all the ingredients of the weekend turn into something bigger and better than the ingredients themselves.
We talk around the table while eating to-die-for brownies and we pile eight in a hot tub and talk, and we find room for four, sitting cross-legged on the king-size bed and pray together and talk some more, and we sit on the couches and talk.
I learned about new uses for band-aids and concerns about the youth and Lora's little niece's death and which woman feels like she doesn't fit the feminine stereotype and how Brenda's son in Montana saw a timber wolf and the rooster that attacked Arlene.
We discussed whether or not that wicked relative of "Sally's" is actually saved and what we all bought at the outlet malls and do you ever try on new Mennonite hairstyles [yes, and I realize flat and slick is not for ladies with thinning, graying hair] and how can we all reach out to "Jill" and matchmaking and our husbands trying to fix our problems vs. just sympathizing and of course our children and all their issues and personalities. And lots more that can never be mentioned in a public forum and must remain forever sealed.
I leave, every year, with that unspeakable relief of knowing that I'm not alone.
Quote of the Day:
"Mom, the first daffodil is on the table!"
--Jenny. What's with this? More times than not, I come home from the retreat and the first daffodils are blooming.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Yay and Nay
Yay for the 40 kids who made honor roll, and who got to have a pizza supper today.
And Yay for Papa Murphy's who had all ten pizzas ready promptly at 3:00, and who took $3 per pizza off the price because it was a school function and we ordered at least 10.
Yay for the new play shelter going up, like a huge Conestoga wagon parked out in the rain.
Nay for all the mess the construction causes. And nay for the rain and the mud, and nay for boys that get pushed into a puddle right after school's out, making the mom bring a clean outfit for the party, and nay for this same boy who fell into the mud in this clean outfit and had mud smeared from head to toe, and nay for mud getting tracked all over the new carpet when the kids had their treasure hunt.
Yay for Miss Amy who, when I arrived, was marching along with a bucket of water, barking like a cute, loving, feminine drill sergeant at guilty kids who were down on their hands and knees, rags in hand, scrubbing mud spots. "Kyle! Here's one!"
Yay for Paul and Amy and Justin and Megan who handle these children every day and plan special events besides. "Are children wilder than they used to be?" wonders Paul's mom. I don't know--I just know these teachers have their hands full.
And yay for moms who help--Debbie who helped me bake and slice and pour, Trish who brought veggies and finger jello, Bonnie and Rita who set up tables and made them pretty, and Jeanette who sent three ice cream desserts.
Nay for Jeanette's two teenage boys, who put the desserts in the fridge instead of the freezer.
Yay for Rachel who happened to discover this mistake before the ice cream turned to soup, and who tracked down the guilty pair, bowed down with care, and set them on the strait and narrow.
Yay for little Josh and Jady, who came to the kitchen and asked what they could do to help, and for their mom, who has taught them well.
Yay for lots of people wanting to send their children to our school, and Yay for the fine principal who keeps this boat sailing and keeps finding room for more on board, but a nostalgic nay for losing the tiny-school dynamic of seniors and little kids all in the same room, and Byran playing games with Emily, and that camaraderie.
Nay for Steven who unbeknownst to me had a pizza-eating contest, him against two giggling girls put together, and he won, of course.
Yay for leftover pizza to bring home.
Quote of the Day:
Paul: (tallying the results of the questionnaire he just got back) People are suggesting sermon series that I've already preached! Jonah, Ephesians, David. . .
Family member: David!? You just did David not long ago.
Paul: And I know who suggested David, too.
All of us: Who??
Paul: Mark* [a newly-married man]
All of us: Mark??!!
Jenny: Was he gone during that time?
Paul: He was in love during that time.
*Name changed of course
And Yay for Papa Murphy's who had all ten pizzas ready promptly at 3:00, and who took $3 per pizza off the price because it was a school function and we ordered at least 10.
Yay for the new play shelter going up, like a huge Conestoga wagon parked out in the rain.
Nay for all the mess the construction causes. And nay for the rain and the mud, and nay for boys that get pushed into a puddle right after school's out, making the mom bring a clean outfit for the party, and nay for this same boy who fell into the mud in this clean outfit and had mud smeared from head to toe, and nay for mud getting tracked all over the new carpet when the kids had their treasure hunt.
Yay for Miss Amy who, when I arrived, was marching along with a bucket of water, barking like a cute, loving, feminine drill sergeant at guilty kids who were down on their hands and knees, rags in hand, scrubbing mud spots. "Kyle! Here's one!"
Yay for Paul and Amy and Justin and Megan who handle these children every day and plan special events besides. "Are children wilder than they used to be?" wonders Paul's mom. I don't know--I just know these teachers have their hands full.
And yay for moms who help--Debbie who helped me bake and slice and pour, Trish who brought veggies and finger jello, Bonnie and Rita who set up tables and made them pretty, and Jeanette who sent three ice cream desserts.
Nay for Jeanette's two teenage boys, who put the desserts in the fridge instead of the freezer.
Yay for Rachel who happened to discover this mistake before the ice cream turned to soup, and who tracked down the guilty pair, bowed down with care, and set them on the strait and narrow.
Yay for little Josh and Jady, who came to the kitchen and asked what they could do to help, and for their mom, who has taught them well.
Yay for lots of people wanting to send their children to our school, and Yay for the fine principal who keeps this boat sailing and keeps finding room for more on board, but a nostalgic nay for losing the tiny-school dynamic of seniors and little kids all in the same room, and Byran playing games with Emily, and that camaraderie.
Nay for Steven who unbeknownst to me had a pizza-eating contest, him against two giggling girls put together, and he won, of course.
Yay for leftover pizza to bring home.
Quote of the Day:
Paul: (tallying the results of the questionnaire he just got back) People are suggesting sermon series that I've already preached! Jonah, Ephesians, David. . .
Family member: David!? You just did David not long ago.
Paul: And I know who suggested David, too.
All of us: Who??
Paul: Mark* [a newly-married man]
All of us: Mark??!!
Jenny: Was he gone during that time?
Paul: He was in love during that time.
*Name changed of course
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