Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

It's getting closer every minute. I have so much to do, and it is a joy to do it. Come if you can. We're going to have amazing Redwall-inspired desserts as well as great family activities. Thanks, Karen Morgan, for the great flyer.

30, 40, 50

This year I am the answer to life, the universe, and everything. That means that clever marketers think I am worried about aging and boy do they have the products for me. Scattered across the spectrum of lazy reading I am offered beautiful pictorials of famous people who have spent their lives cultivating their appearance for a living, some 30, some 40, some 50.  I want to see those glamorous images spliced with ordinary women who don't have two hours a day to workout or hundreds of dollars to spend on creams, because that's a great 30, 40, 50, too.  Then I want to go one step further and I want to see 30, 40, 50 year old refugees or others who have suffered the affects of grinding poverty and war.  After that, everyone should take a deep breath and change the direction of their attention. 

After all those pictures, what do we really need to do to improve the world? I don't know everything, but somethings are obvious.

Baptized

I love hymns. There is so much meat in them. For about a minute and a half praise bands were reinterpreting the old gems and doing it very well. I was surprised at the cross over into Catholic singing. Even "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" written by the original Protestant Martin Luther, makes itself at home. Of course there were many songs I didn't know, and they would catch me off-guard. "I Have Loved You," "You Are Mine," "Eye Has Not Seen," and "On Eagle's Wings," had me crying. I ordered a hymnal with my new hymns, but it was a different edition from the ones at church.

Recently, they replaced the hymnals with very nice purple ones, and I wondered what happened to the old ones. I didn't have time to pursue it. Our house needed a clean out and the bags of donate goods filled the back of the van. I had to get rid of them before I could shop at Sam's, so I dropped in at a nearby thrift store. I've been collecting copies of the books for next year's medieval lit class, so I hunted through the bookshelves. There didn't seem to be much until I spotted the familiar red spine. Gold letters on the front cover, it called out to me. Joyfully, I brought it home.

Now it is the queen of my collection, and a great source for new music and ideas. Thanks be to God.

Rite of Election

Yesterday was a beautiful day as two of our girls signed The Book of the Elect and went to the cathedral to shake hands with the bishop in a beautiful ceremony. I'm still learning Catholic manners and traditions, so I'd failed to tell their sponsor she should be there. My friend Sara rushed to come with us on this special day. I felt so upheld all day long as person after person reached out with grace to help me overcome the stumble and to keep this sacred event positive for the girls. Thanks be to God!

Fat Tuesday

I'm thinking about giving up the Beatles for Lent. They were my first taste of cultural butter, and the purposes it serves. My life had been one recording of the Life Action Singers after another. Occasionally, Doug Oldham or someone like him would take some risks, but not very often. My sister, with her musical ear collected an impressive knowledge of popular music from elevators and grocery stores. I was more inclined to return home to the safety of the Gaithers. 

Susan came over and for the first time in my life I was left unsupervised in my own home. Susan's sanctity was never questioned, so I was surprised when she recommended we ransack the record collection for contraband. We found The Letterman and were quite pleased with them. They were nice, but musically little different from Life Action or the other groups. From then on, any chance to ransack the records was a naughty little pleasure. That probably would have been the end of things if we hadn't moved to a suburb of DC. 

The kids in my new world not only listened to current rock and roll, they had sex and experimented with drugs. I was so lost. I had my first diagnosis of depression, and Dad pulled out all the stops--he rented Help! Mother would have nothing to do with it. Her disapproval filled the house making it all the more exciting as Dad plugged it in. It was hilarious, and the music was so fresh to us. After that, whenever it was all too much we'd get Help!

I still love Help! I love the Beatles catalog. Giving them up for Lent might not seem like big deal to some, but maybe there's a circle coming my life. While I'm not interested in a return to Life Action, maybe it's time for dry toast because I can, because of Lent.

Judith

My kids

St. Martin's kids

Co-op class kids

The people I fight for have a tendency to be short. The shortness gives me courage and permission to be clever, bold, and persistent--like Judith. I have continued my reading of the apocryphal books and next up was Judith. She's so strong that it's almost off putting. She consults no one, but God. She asks for no help from any person except her maid, and she pulls it off handing the victory to her army in one neat piece. I'm pleased for her, but my mind keeps reeling with what ifs. I guess desperate times require desperate measures. If you are going to follow Judith's example, it seems you must keep walking forward and never look back no matter how risky your plan. You have to know Who is walking with you.