My Cake and Your Cake Too

Yesterday I made my kids a batch of homemade chocolate pudding. Today it is gone, and my four-year-old asked me if I could make some more. No sooner had I said yes and he was waving me away telling me to "get to it." (He is so soft and cute that he gets away with this--sometimes, temporarily.) I tried to linger with him on the couch a bit longer (he was watching old-timey cartoons) when he said, giving me a push, "I don't want you."

As I headed toward the kitchen, to get some tea--not to make his pudding, I thought about God, and how I sometimes act the same way toward Him. I want the material comforts to keep on coming, while I put my relationship with Him on hold--as if I were some little despot calling the shots.

I don't know why the Supreme Ruler of the Universe gives me good gifts, why we have flowers and birds and music and good things to eat and health and friendship and love. Beyond this is so much more...but it is all from the Creator's hand. It makes no sense to think things are accidentally wonderful. It takes a lot of work just to get a batch of chocolate pudding right. Really think about that.

The most beautiful story in the whole world is the one of God's redemption for us through Jesus Christ. We want a hero who loves us that much, with a perfect, undying devotion up to--and beyond the point of death; and we have that. You can live a really great life--I do, overflowing with blessings and beauty and love; and it doesn't mean a thing without Christ.

Sewwww Long...Part 2

Well, I finally decided that I really did need a sewing machine, and decided to buy another one. I didn't want to spend a lot, but did want something that would work for my basic needs. So I researched, found one that rated pretty well, and bought it. Even paid up for a case, so the foot pedal wouldn't be flopping around this time.

Do you ever wonder who these people are that rate things inaccurately? And why? I have just about had it with Consumer Reports--they have steered me wrong several times now. As you can guess, my shiny new sewing machine was a piece of junk. I had nothing but trouble with it. Of course I didn't discover this right away, as I often take long hiatuses from sewing. The problems did not become obvious until it was way too late to return the thing to the store.

Aggravation. As if sewing, in itself, was not frustrating enough for me. I began to get angry again. And I got upset with my dad. I love my dad a ton, and it was gnawing away somewhere inside me, to the degree that I really had to take it to God several times. I knew it was dumb; that my problems are so minuscule in the grand scheme of things. I also knew that it was really wrong of me to be mad at my dad, because he is so much more important than a $100 sewing machine--or even two. And it really wasn't all his fault. I did pray.

Anyway, time went by and I began to accept my lot in life as a non-sewer. One would think this should not be difficult as I have already explained my retardedness at the whole sewing thing. But--I love fabrics. I can hardly pass up digging for treasure through those marked-down-to-$2-to$3/yard bolts. And I had actually found something I could do with all these wonderful colorful patterns...make baby blankies. I can't really call them quilts, because they're not, exactly. They are more primitive than that, or at least more incorrectly done. Nevertheless, they are sewn from many different beautiful materials and I had a really great time making them, a couple of times. Before the sewing machine fiasco.

So my piles of lovely pinks and blues, florals and calicos sat and sat. I finally gave away most of them to a friend who actually has a working machine. So I had pretty much thrown in the towel...and then....out of the blue, my cousin Wendy emailed me. She said she had heard that I could use a sewing machine and that she had an old one of her mom's in her garage if I wanted it!! Now, I must clarify here. My cousin Wendy is a sewer, furthermore she is the daughter of Serious Sewer Aunt Sue, who can sew anything from a (real) teddy bear to a tailored suit!! Any old machine of Sue's was NOT going to be a $100 heap of barely functional plastic parts from Target! I trembled with joy. And then I wrote Wendy back....Stay tuned for part three of this cliffhanger.

Who is Jesus?

I interrupt my current blog short series because of the urgency of this message. By the title you will know where I am going with this. The problem is that many people do not at all understand what True Christianity is about. Jesus did not come to earth to tell people to "be good." He came to earth to die, for us, for you and me. That was His mission. He went into it with full knowledge, not that it was easy.

In Gethsemane, the night before his crucifixion:

He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.--Luke 22:41-44

So, why did Jesus have to die?

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.--2 Cor. 5:21

We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
the iniquity of us all. --Isa. 53:6

Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.--Heb. 9:22

This is why the Jews had to offer sacrifices, but:

because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.--Heb. 10:4

...he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors.--Isa. 53:12b

Sewwww Long...

On my Facebook page I put "sewing" as one of my activities/interests. That is something I never thought would happen. And I'm still a pretty bad sewer, but the category is, after all, "sewing" and not "good sewing." I guess it began out of necessity. I am much too cheap to buy curtains, and they are pretty much just straight(ish) lines--pretty simple. I've been known to make slipcovers for pillows as well. That's about my speed.

Well I have tried things of more difficulty, which I can never accurately describe the ridiculousness of. Like the dress I tried to make. It had a drop waist with a gathered skirt, not so elementary. As for the facing, well I didn't know what that was, so I just sort of tried to "hem" around the neck. Somehow I managed to pick a pattern 3 sizes too big for me. The fabric was purple with a floral calico print. Okay, not to be stereotypical, but I looked like an old mountain woman in it. It fit literally like a very large potato sack. It was worth all the time and money spent just to laugh that hard.

When we bought a little cottage up in Michigan I lugged my trusty sewing machine up there to make the necessary curtains & pillow slipcovers. I liked my machine pretty well. It was just a $100 model I had bought at Target, or I think it was Venture then. Nothing fancy--I just need a straight stitch, and zig-zag if I'm feeling really crazy. But this was back a few years before stuff was made with plastic gears & such. It actually worked pretty well. But horror of horrors, in transit I dropped the foot pedal, and it broke.

My husband fixed it, sort of, but it still wasn't quite right. I should have just gone on the internet and found one on e-bay, but in a momentary lapse of judgment, I decided to take it to my dad. Now I had a seemingly good reason for this: My dad has a small manufacturing company and one of the things I knew he had produced was an industrial foot pedal. So I figured he might be able to do the repair quickly and easily.

I love my dad very much, and he is brilliant, but I could have told myself that I never should have left that machine in his hands. Because I would never see it again. He tried to fix it, but couldn't, so he decided to build me a whole new foot pedal. Cool, but in the mean time I had found a place where I could just buy one for $40. What? Didn't I want the super-industrial-one-of-a-kind-shiny, metal ($150) beast my dad was already working on?? Of course I did! Well, I never did see that magnificent foot pedal. It didn't work with my machine.

I am confident that eventually my dad could have got the thing to work. Only he has, as I said, a company to run and plenty of other fires to put out, projects, problems, etc. From time to time I would ask about my sewing machine. I don't remember what he said but the writing on the wall was getting clearer. Time ticked by and I discovered products like "stitch witchery" with which you can glue up curtain hems and the like. I tried not to be upset, but I was. Then, without my knowledge, my dad moved his business. I knew they would have to have thrown away as much junk as possible. My sewing machine had been sitting there for at least a year, probably much longer. I assumed it had gone in the dumpster.

Okay, this really is getting "sewwww long," so I will finish with a sequel. Peace out.

Crazy Cat

I have too many hobbies. I forgot, before starting this, that I had started making a blankie upstairs. I remembered when I saw photos of other blankies while searching for the perfect photo for this blog post, pictured above.

I just ordered a bunch of sheet music and it came and it's all too easy and hokey. Very disappointing. So I ordered some more. But this time I set my computer on the piano, put on my magnifiers, and tried playing the example page arrangements first. It is hard to pinpoint my skill level in piano, because I really only like playing things that are too hard for me. But that's okay; I'm dogged.

So, hobbies, occupations, vocations...I have been a parent for quite a while and have seen all kinds of choices being made regarding children and just how-much-time-are-we-going-to-invest-in-their-interests? Time and effort (oh, and cash). When it comes down to it, none of my kids were ever going to be in the Olympics anyway, but had they had the talent...I just don't know if I would have been up for it. Not saying that's a good thing. I lament not focusing enough on any one thing, somewhat.

But let's face it, I value the distractions in life--maybe too much. It's the once-hippie-homeschooler in me. Like, wow. My 8-year-old had his first baseball game yesterday. He did well at bat, kind of left field in the field. But I like this league, because it's all about having fun. There are some really good kids on the team, and they pretty much covered the others, but that seemed just fine for everyone. It was nice, enjoyable, even.

Lately this same kid has been getting very sick of school, even though we homeschool. Like, with stomachaches & headaches that magically dematerialize when he's away from the books. I am confounded. I mean, he has no real school stress. No bullies, no peer pressure, no tedious hours of clock watching, no lessons too easy or too hard...I don't get it. He has a great teacher!

Well, maybe it'll be better next year when his brother is forced to do kindergarten. My big guy will want to be in on all that cutting & gluing stuff. I do think it's kind of sad that kindergarten is only one year. Seems like it could be longer. Especially for kids like my slugger, and me.

Chicken Slide

I know, it's been a long time since I wrote a decent blog. That last one was my bottom. I am here to redeem myself as a writer, to once again stretch my thinking muscles and communication skills. To dredge out my inner thoughts and make them understood. No, you're not supposed to write about your writing, but just call me avant-garde.

The title makes no sense unless you had seen the pictured structure when it had the missing piece. From the upper window of the right barn used to be an extension reaching to the ground like a chute. My big boys and Carly and I used to drive past this scene every Friday, and they named it the "chicken slide." I had to get a picture of it before they knock the whole thing over, but alas the chicken slide was already no more.

Carly was our next-door neighbor who homeschooled with us one year. Once a week we would drive out to "Fantastic Fridays," a co-op of sorts where the kids could take classes with other homeschoolers. Carly was a peach. Very sweet, adorable, and meek around me; a really great friend for the boys as she was good at, and loved sports (and other adventures). The "signal" to come out and play was the sound of the basketball thumping on the shared driveway between our houses. There was a hoop on Carly's garage.

Carly was such a cute girl, with shoulder length blonde hair, soft blue eyes, and a lovely smile. She was always dressed in boyish clothes and ready for anything. My guys spent their growing up years with her, and she was and is very dear to my heart.

The three of them had a club called the "King Tarantulas," and did lots of other crazy things. Once they dug a pretty large "fish pond" in Carly's back yard (her mom was a lot more laid back than me) which caused a lot of screeching late at night as two raccoons fought over the tasty morsels. They would have lemonade stands, and since we didn't get much traffic they would yell out, singing, "LEMONADE, LEMONADE, EVERYBODY'S THIRSTY FOR SOME LEMONADE!!" at passing cars.

Also, it was Carly and her sister who brought my sons to vacation Bible school one summer at a little church around the corner. Carly and Kelsey were so darling toting their little flowery-sewn covered Bibles. They went skipping off with my guys and, unbeknownst to me, the Gospel was preached. I was not a Christian then, and was horrified when my oldest child confided to me one night that he had prayed the sinner's prayer in that little church basement.

Now, of course, I am immensely grateful that Chris received the gift of Salvation early in his life, simply, as a child. As he put it, "I just thought I might not ever get another chance." He was right, you know. None of us knows exactly when the lights will go out. And it probably was easier back then; before the chicken slide was gone.

Abby Normal

I would like life to be simple. To be able to sum things up in a nutshell. But that is not to be for me. Never has been. Everything is so--complicated. Always. Take for instance my birth. My parents were young, not married, but wait--they did get married. But they never lived together. I spent the first couple years of life going back & forth between grandparents. This is probably common now but it wasn't in the early 1960's. Then finally I went to live with--my dad.

He remarried and I have three siblings (I remember being shocked the first time someone referred to them as my "half" brothers and sister). We were a family until another divorce, and from around age 12 I was again with my dad, but the sibs stayed with their mom...blah blah blah. Complicated. Again, it may be common these days but it's still weird. Very hard to wrap your mind around.

Like, where do I fit in? I have had three moms who are all very very different, with families all over the financial and social stratosphere. I have always been very observant, but somewhat confused as to how to act. I've lived in pretty wealthy circumstances and have also been kind of poor, and feel like a faker either way.

We had kids early, in our 20's, before my friends or siblings, then late, in our 40's, so again that is weird. We don't fit in either the "parents of young kids" or "empty nesters" group. We homeschool, making us weird. I am a born-again Bible believing Christian, which Jesus promised would make me an outcast. But even among Christians I have trouble fitting in. I am extremely skeptical, hard-core, and serious. I am not bragging about this. Often I wish I could "lighten up" as I've been told many times to do.

You see, being a Christian involves sharing my faith with others. It is in fact the deepest desire of my heart to preach the Gospel--to tell the Good News of Jesus to the world! But as I can never seem to get a grasp on things--tending to oversimplify or overcomplicate--I find it extremely difficult to explain just what the Gospel is.

Lately I've discovered that I am in good company when it comes to emerging from a complicated background. Look at Jesus. Read the first couple chapters of Matthew. Now that is complicated. And no matter how confused I get about things, eventually I run into this verse again like I did today:

LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.--Psalm 16:5-6

I know this is true for me. The Lord Himself, He is my inheritance. There is no greater circumstance.

One final note. I'm also weird because I love classical music and don't like rock. In fact I wrote a previous blog on this subject; and like the blog where I doused the French, I am now going to have to recant a bit on my thrashing of the rockers.

I read this interview with Bono, and was quite impressed. He was able to do what I struggle with: lay out the Gospel, simply. Now you have to get all the way to the end of the interview. But I believe he does a good job. So Bono is my brother in Christ (and not half-brother, whatever that is). Hats off to you, rocker Bono, may you preach the Gospel evermore!

http://www.thepoachedegg.net/the-poached-egg/2010/09/bono-interview-grace-over-karma.html