Groanings

The problem with blogs is that sometimes words just don't do it.

We are dealing with some crazy stuff. 'Nuff said.

And I am somewhere between Dreyfus's twitching eyelid:

and Mrs Bennett's (relatively) calm responses.

I don't think words touch either of these.  

I am glad there is One Who intercedes for us. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. ~ Romans 8:26

Mr. Tom Turkey

Every year I quote a poem written by a college friend, Steve Kopelic, some years back. Steve? You out there? Do you remember this epic? I found out this year that my oldest thought it was an American classic and was surprised that it did not come up on google. I am pretty sure it first appeared in print on the noteboard on my dormroom door, and maybe never since, until now.  :)  Without further ado:

Mr. Tom Turkey, your white meat's a winner.
What say you come to our house for dinner?
There's 'taters, and stuffing, and cranberries too.
But most of all, Turkey, the main course is YOU.

Long Storms

Recently we watched The Shawshank Redemption, a favorite of mine.

The line that really stood out to me this watching was Andy Dufresne: "I was in the path of the tornado... I just didn't expect the storm would last as long as it has." 

Most storms I feel fine, think I can brave them out, even enjoy some of the power and rawness. But sometimes life makes me feel like Piglet, a Very Small Animal on a Blustery Day, and the Blustery Storm just keeps coming and coming and I realize how much I lack Bravery. Then God slowly, quietly teaches my heart to hold hope, which is what both Andy and Red learn in the film.

And I started wondering, what are some things Scripture says about storms coming upon God's people. So...


I know that Christ calmed the storm in Luke 23-24: and as they sailed he fell asleep. And a windstorm came down on the lake, and they were filling with water and were in danger. And they went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and the raging waves, and they ceased, and there was a calm. He certainly does not always calm the storm, at least when I would like, but I believe He will always give a calm to those who are His. Thinking of the children's song: With Jesus in the boat we can smile through the storm. :)

He sends and controls the storms -- Psalm 107:25 and 29: For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.  He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Psalm 148:8:  fire and hail, snow and mist, stormy wind fulfilling his word!

Job 30:22 tells that God sends us to ride the storm: You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. Not sure what it means to ride the storm... makes me think of Muad'Dib

Psalm 57:1 tells He gives us refuge during the storm... note to self, NOT that He always takes the storm away: Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by.

Isaiah 54:11 tells of God's care for those who are storm-tossed: O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, behold, I will set your stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires.

No tidy wrap-up, but some things to think about when the wind howls.

 

Threads

Today's three mile solitary walk at the park today gave my mind time to ramble and try to get hold of several different threads which are twisting together into a sort of rope in my head.

The first dry leaves have fallen (why is that the only place we use the word /sere/?  Does /serious/ come from the same root of dried-outness? If so, no wonder people try not to be too serious. Who wants to have all the life dried out of them? ah well, the dictionary says no, different roots.)

So. It has been raining but stopped this morning and the top layer of leaves was dry enough to rustle when you kick through them. I got to thinking about my favorite sounds of fall. I often think of my favorite summer sounds but realized I don't have a mental list for fall. The sound of rustling leaves is surely on it, and the sound of acorns falling on a sunlight, and not sure what else. I will work on it.

As I kicked through the leaves I started thinking about two women who have died in the past week, two women who were important to me in my teen years. How can they be dead? It almost seems that if they were dead, the gift they were to me would be gone ~ and yet ~ I hold those gifts in my heart. 

First, Mrs Smith (now Mrs Dombart, but I think Mrs Smith because that was her name when she taught my high school English) died. I have not seen her since a year or two after high school but just loved her class and even  more than that, loved her. She had beautiful kind eyes and was patient with the slowest students in class, the ones who never knew a figure of speech and didn't get the allusions the rest of us were talking about. She helped me learn to love words and to know that it is a good thing to love words. She taught us that it was good to look at the beauty of a phrase and take joy in it. She helped me figure out how to quote a French passage in a paper written in English and gave me an undated hallpass to go "wherever (my) little heart desires." That image has served me well in life.

Then just a couple days later Marsha, who ~ along with her friend Shirley ~ led my youth group, died. I have only seen her now and then since high school, but what an encouragement she has been, even across generations. She encouraged my faith as I grew up. She went on all the retreats and talked us through things and played dumb games with us and listened to our teen problems. She made sure I had money in college for a typewriter. She encouraged me as we raised two kids with significant special needs, looked at my kids' photos when my Mum showed them off, and loved on them. She supported Hannah in her venture in China and let me know how proud she was of my family. My Mum taught a water aerobics class at the Y straight through her 70s and Marsh was one of her cheerleaders. And now Marsha rests with Christ.

As I was thinking, I saw a little snake on the path who did not move as I came near, kicking the leaves.  I realized it must be dead and used a stick to move it off the path because, well, it just seemed respectful. 

I suppose some runner must have crushed its head underfoot. I thought of One Who has "bruised the head" of the serpent, sharing in flesh that "through death He might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery." I am so glad the power of death is gone.

All I Want

This week we took Miss Dog Lover to see the Cinderella movie. There was a Frozen short feature shown first, where Elsa is preparing for Anna's birthday. Elsa obviously loves Pinterest - she had all the amazing things - ice sculptures, fruit, flowers, matching tableware and furnishings, a beautiful cake. And she says, as if it is a reasonable desire, "I just want everything to be perfect."

As if that is a Just. Which it is not, in a fallen world.

It made me think of this New Yorker cartoon, which we had hanging on our fridge for several years: 

And me? I'm trying to learn the secret of being content.

Knock Me Over with a Feather

Longtime readers of my blogs probably know that as a part of Miss Dog Lover's (dis)ability she does not like idioms. As in Does Not Like them.

Years ago I posted on a blog (now seemingly lost in cyberspace) about her hatred of standard idioms but the irony of her creating a few of her own... she used to announce some people were "dumb as a bug" or "stubborn as a pickle on a leaf." There was also one about turkeys in soup, though I am hardpressed to remember what that related to. (Miss Language? Do you recall?)

A favorite story is Miss Dog Lover having a developmental evaluation done with a new doc. He started asking her, "If I were to say to you, what does it mean to be tickled pink..." and she stopped him, saying, "No. This is about idioms, right? I don't do idioms." The doc looked surprised but checked a box on his form and moved on to the next item.

Anyhow.

We have a new development in idiomland. We added a small kitty to our household and Miss Dog Lover has an allergy history with them. Well, although kitty is outside, Miss Dog Lover has been loving on her just as if she were a dog and the result is that Miss DL is now on a hefty course of steroids and we are seeing if she can control her loving on or if kitty will have to go. But the steroids seem to have an activating effect on some language center. The first night sleep was elusive so we added benedryl. The next morning Miss DL reported she had "slept like a baby." I was flabbergasted that she used an idiom and she laughed and told me that she was just "on cloud nine" because of a good night's rest. 

Amazing.

Qs and Os

Ahh, summer. Today we had company and I wanted simple and summer. We included my Mum's famous Q and O salad which I have always loved: cucumbers, onions, white vinegar and water, a little bit of sugar and some dill weed and then let it all marinate. Yum. 

The fun story on this is that when my brother was very young, he told Mum not to worry, he had already planted the garden. She asked what he planted. He couldn't remember the name, but it started with a Q. Naturally Mum went through all the Q things she could think of before asking him where he had gotten the seeds, anyhow, and when he said, "from our salad," she realized he had planted cucumber seeds. Pretty sure they didn't grow.