Now Serving Number One

Today is the first anniversary of my collaborative blog, The Shepherd's fish.  When I started it I hoped to reconnect with friends and to get better at blogging .  Both wishes have been granted.  As we have opened our lives to each other, we have found support and courage, facing together the trials of our lives.  We've also found humor, kindness, and a broader perspective on the work of God in the world.  We've talked about everything from runaway dogs to runaway kids and laughed and cried at both of them.  I'm so thankful to God for this godly gaggle and the way they've used this new strength to reach out and grow, touching other lives.  It's a beautiful ripple as we leap up to praise our Shepherd.

 I've been learning how to listen to Jesus, and this time I think I got it right.  The result has done good and brought new strength instead of new stress.  I am glad I obeyed.  The more I test the work in my life in this way, the more I realize how important it is to be sure my service is not for anyone else but Christ for his yoke is easy and his burden is light.

Not My Grandmother's Flannelgraph

Though it is her couch (long story involving six children, general destructiveness and fond memories).  Flannelgraph played an incalculable roll in my spiritual development.  The first time I heard the story of Christ's passion he was hanging from the cross on a deluxe flannel overlay background.  I made my first profession of faith the same day.  Given the choice of with Flannelgraph or without, even hardened teenagers opted for the charming cut out people in their inexplicable worlds and costumes.  Sunday School was the most frequent place for Flannelgraph use. My grandmother was an excellent teacher investing hours of time in her weekly opportunity to change hearts and minds.  She always used the church issued Flannelgraph that was actually flocked paper and sometimes she glued it down because she disliked the interruption to the story telling.

My mother had put off going through Grandmother's Sunday School materials because the items awakened such strong memories.  I came down to go through it with her.  It was inspiring.

My older girls had gone down with me, and on our way home we talked about our family's foray into Flannelgraph.  I bought a complete set of Betty Luken's Bible stories.  That is the crem de la crem of Flannelgraph.  If a woman was heading to the mission field, her friends would go in together to get a set as a parting gift.  The thing is die cut flocked paper is much easier to prep then cutting out hundreds of characters from felt.  The project ate three pairs of scissors before I gave up and let my dramatic personality make up for the lack of figures.

Grandmother's example has me giving it another try, this time with Mea's unexpected help.  We are having a great time trimming and conquering the sheets one herd of camels and many many Jesus' at a time.  I think Grandmother is very proud.

Packing My Bag

I decided about three minutes after Mea was born that my grandkids would call me "Grammy."

The title honors my great grandmother without replacing her.  I fell in love with Granny as an infant. If she was in the room I cared for no one else.  When I was four, she came to stay with us after we lost my brother.  In one month she moved my mother from non-functioning despair to spunky assertiveness.  

The day Granny went home was such a lovely day what with Mother back from the dead and all.  I did fine until the last minute when Granny started walking up the gangway for her plane.  I jerked my hand out of Daddy's and ran after her.  "I need one for the road," I said.  She gave me one of her patented kisses and I ran back to Mother and Dad.

Granny was always filling my emotional bag with treasure.  Her keen awareness that after her life was done, mine would go on, led her to think about what she could send forward with me.   Sometimes it was physical things like a Children's Bible with a lovely note inside the cover or a gold watch for graduation.  She finished my wedding quilt before I finished high school.  Sometimes it was stories of all kinds from family history or experiences like a train ride. Sometimes it was special things to do with chldren, songs, recipes, games, crafting skills.  She said that I should always lose a game or two of checkers to young children so that they won't get discouraged.  I'll never know if she said that because I'd won.

I try to do the same things for my kids, but my success is not as complete.  I don't worry too much about that, after all these guys are only the warm up.

My Personal Fab Five

Everybody needs good advice from their friends.  These literary figures have long been my good friends, so much so that I call them Aunt or Uncle depending.  These are not my favorite saints.  That's a whole different thing.  This is more about camaraderie than hero worship, though I'll admit to a little hero worship.

Tante Corrie (Ten Boom)
The consequences for her sympathy for others are horrific, but no matter how much else she lost, she never lost this basic instinct of caring for others in trouble.  I want to be as brave and forgiving as she was.

 Auntie Jane (Austen)
She pushed herself to write for publication, but never lost her own voice.  I want to be published.

Aunt Flan(nery O'Connor)
She woke me up and made writing seem like something worth doing.  I never understood what redemption meant until The Violent Bear It Away.  Now I can't stop looking at it--through parted fingers, but still.

Uncle Jack (C. S. Lewis)
His tape started running in my head when Dad started reading me The Chronicles of Narnia at two and finally left off reading me Lewis with That Hideous Strength when I was off to get married at twenty-three.  I marvel at how he shapes my mind, down to a fascination with medieval literature.  I hope to learn his kindness.

Uncle Frebby (Frederick Buechner)
He is my only living model, which was quite a comfort when I was lonely.  He is so patient with his faults and honest about discussing them.  I grew up in a world where flaws were hidden or everyone was too intimidated to state the obvious.  I want to be that genuine. 

Thank You, James.

I am trying to read all the Great Books, plus Eastern books of similar intent and wisdom.  It's a daunting task, especially for some one who even her hobbies are other kinds of work.  A few years ago, I had nearly given up and then Jimmy finished potty training and  personal space and time began trickling back to me.  I still can't seem to get more than fifteen minutes in a row to read, but before it was ten.  Every step he takes toward independence sets me free.  I've been looking at the sad side for far too long, but it's time to look at the new hope.  Someday I will have all the time in the world to linger over books, and man, am I looking forward to it.

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Congratulations, Jo!

Your terrifying courage is well repaid.


"If you ask how such things can occur, seek the answer in God’s grace, not in doctrine; in the longing of the will, not in the understanding; in the sighs of prayer, not in research; seek the bridegroom not the teacher; God and not man; darkness not daylight; and look not to the light but rather to the raging fire that carries the soul to God with intense fervor and glowing love. The fire is God, and the furnace is in Jerusalem, fired by Christ in the ardor of his loving passion. Only he understood this who said: My soul chose hanging and my bones death. Anyone who cherishes this kind of death can see God, for it is certainly true that: No man can look upon me and live."
St. Bonaventure

Thanks, Einstein!

The other day a glass landed on our tile floors and exploded, like always. For me this is generally a time of mourning and wishing I was more coordinated or something. I feel bad no matter how small the loss. Part of it is growing up with a feeling of scarcity and part of it is reading how Gandhi made his grandson crawl over the ground to find the stub of a pencil so as to honor the work of the man who made the pencil.
The particular glasses we are breaking at the moment are thick and when they break there is a sparkly pile of generally non-threatening shards, and as I started to sweep them up, I heard a voice inside saying "e=mc2." I immediately relaxed. I know it's not an exact application, but in general principle it's true. Somehow the entropy that my clumsy choice unleashed is not final. In a mysterious, grand theme of the universe kind of way, my glass isn't lost--it's just transformed. I'd never thought of it that way, and it backed up and illumined the ways I'd considered loss before.
The last year has been a shower of death and loss and it looks like there are at least two more coming. All of them were/are men that I expected to live much longer. I lost Uncle Ed who always provided a sort of quiet bass to my father's tenor. He was the sort of person who was comfortable with a kid watching him fix a stone wall for hours. I lost Uncle Tom who introduced me to the joys of rare meat. My favorite memory of him is the pride he took in getting a grant for RIF. I lost my biological Uncle Bob. He was funny and he took my side against Mother. He helped me to have faith that brainy genes really were in there somewhere. On our wedding day, he prayed over Kurt and I just as he had prayed over Mother and Dad.
"All things work together for good..." is sometimes as hard to see as the usefulness of a pile of broken glass, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Sweet Treats

Christmas was good to me. Kurt started with the perfect pair of slippers--very hard to find for a woman who hates anything on her feet. He followed up with the Wii Fit, which is just right on the money. I am in need of a new gimic that's family friendly, and this fits the ticket. My mother bought me a very nice pen inscribed Truth Alone. It's sitting on the "BlueThing" I bought in highschool, some people have wondered what it was like. Finally Kurt told me to just go and buy my own set of the Chronicles of Narnia in hardback. I've wanted them for years. We're reading them aloud each night after dinner.

Goodbye to Chekov

In my youth I spent a lot of time in my parent's shadow. In some ways it wasn't a shadow, it was a spotlight. If I chewed gum I was in trouble twice before the flavor was gone. Being the child of two teachers at the school you attend is tough. The most difficult thing for me was sorting out friendships. Who was my friend because they liked me? Who was my friend because they liked my parents? Who was my friend because they wanted to find out good stuff for the gossip mill? The other thing I disliked was what I privately called "The Chekov Effect."
My grandmother was a spoiler. She knew my cousin loved Star Trek, so she painstakingly collected a set of coffee mugs through a magazine offer. The porcelain company sent her two Sulu's and two Chekov's, but no Captain Kirk. She had to go through all kinds of hassel to get Captain Kirk, but when she asked them what she should do with the extra Sulu and Chekov? "Keep them" they said, "nobody wants them anyway." In my life, I was always Chekov. You Checked Off that you had him, but his only real purpose was completeness.
Being Baptist there wasn't any real escape, shoot, I walked into my writer's group and found someone I could play six degrees of being Baptist with. Within a few minutes we'd uncovered a mutual friendship that was pretty significant. I tend to end those conversations back in Chekov mode.
I'm not a Baptist anymore. I love all my Baptist friends. I love my parents, but for the first time I'm just an ordinary church member. I have no parental burden to bear. I have no fond memories that I am required to recount. I'm just the rather inept Catholic trying to remember to bow, then put your left hand on top of your right, then say "Amen" then eat (praying you don't sneeze or drop it or something else equally awful) then cross your self while trying to return to the proper pew gracefully and on time.
The lack of pressure was very scary at first, but now I'm beginning to enjoy it. Discovering who you are when you can be anyone is fun. The best thing though has been the general clearing of my ideas about who my friends are/were, and the closeness I feel without the nagging worry about why people choose to be my friend. Thanks to everyone who's stuck by me in the bad parts. Hopefully the good parts are ahead of us.

Best Birthday Present Ever

For my birthday this year my mother-in-law gave me Merry Maids for a month. I cannot express the relief that one gift has given me. The children have just begun to pick up after themselves without prompting, and now the scrubbing is done for me. The maids come as a team and the two of them have the house spic and span in a little less than 2 hours.
What an amazingly helpful gift!

The Teaching Company

One of my favorite pastimes is enjoying Teaching Company videos. My current indulgence is From Plato to Post-modernism. Literary Criticism is one of my new interests, and I'm getting the max out of this short-cut. I think I'm going to start with Hegel, because of all the ground Professor Markos and I have covered so far Hegel's ideas have captured my imagination. I'm sure the rest will be equally interesting, but this is what I want to learn now.
As a homeschooling parent, I've found the Teaching Company invaluable. We began with their course Understanding the Human Body, because I wanted a good foundation for a science class. Using the outline provided, I was able to cover all the systems of the body and construct a very fun and informative class. Every year since we've returned to the Teaching Company to provide us with a structure for science. Physics in Your Life was a lot of fun, but not as easy to use as a guide to curriculum. I ended up meshing another resource in with what Professor Wolfson was teaching in order to more systematically cover the material. This year we fell in love with two different courses. Dr. Renton's Nature of Earth had my kids looking at the world around them in new ways. I began to understand what the big deal is with water conservation, and we all had a good time. We're still finishing the extensive Understanding the Universe course. My kids love Professor Fillipenko and his crazy t-shirts. He's even inspired them to read Douglas Adams. Next year, we're tackling Chemistry. I'm planning on using a children's course I've found on-line, but we've purchased the High-school level class to stretch all of us as I'm very uncomfortable with Chemistry.
Rigorous inquiry into the world and the nature of life is an important value in our homeschool. I was looking for tough coursework in history and literature and I made an uneasy compromise with Veritas Press. Their rather virulent perspective is often repugnant to me, but they were the only homeschooling curriculum with any chops. My oldest and I worked through their Omnibus I, but by the end of the year I was dropping the book's assignments in favor of a commonplace book approach. This year, I'm going with the Teaching Company. I had purchased their Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition to offset some of the ideology in the Omnibus, this year I'm going to let those gracious professors be our guide to selecting the literary works we'll read. Since we're going to be in the medieval period, I just picked up Reason and Faith: Philosophy in the Middle Ages. I think this will beef up the philosophy portion of our studies where I feel less than qualified. I haven't decided how I will approach the history portion that was so much a part of our pleasure last year, though we will of course continue using The Story of the World with the younger children. Perhaps our friend Dr. Bell will give us a list of good medieval historians.
In any case, I've grown right along with the children. Areas of learning that seemed overwhelmingly complex have lost much of their intimidating glamor as the Teaching Company's professors have given me some good traction to get going. If you homeschool, I highly recommend their products.

15.2 is the loveliest number in the world

15.2 15.2 15.2 15.2 15.2 15.2 15.2 15.2

We have been concerned that our new baby might have cystic fibrosis. The verdict is in. He's negative. We are so relieved and grateful. Life is so unpredictable and catastrophe is always right there. Then again, just when you think it's caught you the tornado swerves. The only way to feel is thankful.

Time flies

This week was full of the little moments that make you notice time. The most important was my husband's tenth anniversary with General Dynamics. He really has enjoyed working there. It's a place where new ideas and creative thinking are encouraged. It is still hard to imagine that we have been here in this area so long. We arrived with just our firstborn, and since then we have been blessed in so many different ways. The whole time just rushed by full of good things to remember.
Our secondborn is having her ninth birthday which is the big American Girl birthday. She's chosen Samantha after long thought because Samantha cares about orphans. Orphans are Number 2's special interest. I'm very proud of her compassion and idealism. They are all in the middle of the birthday change whereby the uneven arithmetic of their births is jumbled for a few months before returning to it's every two years simplicity. I have to sit for a minute and work out who's had their birthday and who will have their birthday when people ask their ages.
I suppose the last thing that has me thinking about time's hurried rush is the slowly hardening realization that I have probably finished having children. There are a number of factors that make that possibility a probability, and I'd rather not go into them now. But I am facing the end of one of the happiest enterprises of my life. If I never accomplish another thing, if I drop dead tomorrow, I have done more than enough for the betterment of mankind, because I have brought five amazing people into the world. The security of knowing that makes the uncertainty of the future unimportant somehow. Somehow, what is is enough.

God Rest You, Merry Parents

Christmas is a wonderful time to create magic for children, and to teach them to appreciate the magic that comes on its own. We had such fun gathering together as a family and working through all the joys and struggles that family life presents. Our family is unusual in that my sister married my husband's brother. (Yes, that's legal and not just in Kentucky.) My sister claims responsibility for the whole thing since she's the one that prayed that she and I would still share the same last name as grown-ups. The result is that we can all gather together in one house, in-laws and out-laws alike. Our separate families are beginning to truly meld into one. Last year was wonderful but this year was even sweeter as we worked our way through Christmas Adam, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Our faith journey was tentative this year, because everyone is working through our study of Catholicism. We attended the Presbyterians' church service as a reasonable compromise, but we both found it lacking the elements we were looking for. Our connection as a family to the larger body of the faithful has become complicated in ways we never expected but that are also invigorating. We are being stretched in our appreciation of doctrine, and our understanding of Christian practice. There were other moments of faith that were easy as an old pair of blue jeans. We read the Christmas story, dressed the kids up for a nativity play and sang every Christmas carol we know--and some we didn't.
There were all those other joys too. Christmas presents--thank you, Mary, for the frying pan and Mother for the satchel--cookies, and wonderful food. I must recommend the America's Test Kitchen Cookbook. I made everything from Crab Imperial to Candied Sweet Potato Casserole, and every dish turned out perfectly. We also enjoyed the Barefoot Contessa's, Penne with Five Cheeses. Sam's Club had all kinds of ready-made treats that we enjoyed such as Blackened Salmon, cheese, and Shrimp Scampi. My sister brought Grandmother's fudge. Mother brought her famous Christmas Wreath Bread, and Mom Vi baked us five different kinds of pie--bless you for the raspberry, mmmmmmm.
Throughout it all, the children grew up. They learned about sharing toys with cousins and siblings. They learned about giving up what is yours for the benefit of others. They learned the joy of giving--thanks guys for taking the kids to the Dollar Store. They learned about the Savior. They learned to be thankful for what they have and for what they are given. I was proud of all seven of them as they grew and worshiped and ate together. May they always be blessed with such happy hearts eager to do good.

Thank you, I. M. Pei

I find the first fruits of the oft promised convergence so promising. The ability to go online and find books from my library, movies from netflix, and all kinds of cultural information is so rich. The idea that someday, hopefully in my lifetime, I will be able to find anything I want on the internet--probably on some handheld device that works wherever I happen to be--is one of the best and happiest parts of the future. When I was growing up, culture was limited to the local library's collection of books, the dedicated efforts of my teachers, and some lengthy and expensive trips to Washington D.C. and Baltimore.
Today, thanks to netflix, I watched a documentary on the work of I.M. Pei. I have admired I. M. Pei since I stepped into the East wing of the National Gallery of Art. When they got to that part of his resume, I was amazed to see him tearing up at the abundance of young people crowding the museum. He had been designing the project at the same time that the Museum of Air and Space was going up, and he was trying to compete for young people's attention. I teared up too, because his decidedly modern architecture was one of the first experiences that inspired me to accept modern art instead of eschewing it as my little subculture routinely did. I found the building so alive that it was itself a rival for my attention. I love the West Wing, but the architecture said little to me except that it was very expensive. I happily ignored it and enjoyed the galleries. My parents didn't take me into the East Wing. I discovered it on one of my teenage trips to the mall. I was mesmerized, and I had a strong feeling of homecoming.
What a pleasure this age of information is! I can feel a connection to a person I will never meet, but that has profoundly influenced my life. Because he was willing to share his ideas and himself, his work has taken on another dimension for me. I've seen his buildings around the world; buildings that I'll probably never see in person. I've had the opportunity to hear him express what it means to be creative, and to discover that he meant to draw me into art. The well-laid trap was well-intentioned. I hope it sets others free as it has set me free. Thank you, Mr. Pei. I noticed, and I'm grateful.

just a general thanks

I just feel grateful today to the universe and the creator of it. Thanks to everyone and everything for being so good to me. Life isn't perfect, but it's good. This has been such a terrifying experiment. I still wake up in the middle of the night certain that the only thing to do is to run downstairs and delete all of this, but resisting the impulse is paying off. Thanks for listening so patiently and politely. I hope I have things to say worth hearing and that I can express them in such a way that they are a pleasure to hear.

Thank you for supporting my hope.