It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

   I seem to be putting off wrapping this year, mainly because I just haven’t gotten to it yet. But, as the days trickle down to the actual day, my fingers are starting to worry that they haven’t felt the tug of scotch tape and the sound of paper being cut. So, with that in mind, the paper will be hauled out soon – if I can convince all of my doggy helpers to go to bed and not “help”.

   In the meanwhile, I’m thinking back over the last few days and a moment that really struck me. Before heading out for dinner with friends, my car needed some fuel. So, a quick stop at the gas station took care of that problem. It is cold outside, the ground is wet and slippery, it was evening and dark outside. Standing beside the car as gas was being pumped into the tank, I looked around at the other people who were also caught there in the cold. One woman’s eyes caught mine and we found each other shivering and smiling in mutual understanding of our chilly noses and the feel of the wind tugging at our coats. It lasted just a moment, a simple nod and smile. But, in that moment we had a clear understanding of the feel of the temperature that each were experiencing.
   Isn’t it interesting that there are moments where mutual understanding exists?

Just Think of All of Those Stories

   The car parks and I reluctantly leave the song on the radio. I walk up one block and down the hill on the other. An apartment complex, with ground mustard brownish yellow colored bricks, takes up about a quarter of the block. Inside are rooms and rooms filled with seniors who have come here to live as a place where they can get some basic assistance and no yard work. I see them on the patio, gathered in little conversational groups, and in more solitary fashion on the benches.

   With these people all gathered in one place, there are some days it is all I can do to resist heading in there with notepad and pen rather than continuing on past the library and then into work. These people have seen major world events and have walked through their own major life events. Surely they have something to share with us, a drop of wisdom, a guffaw or two, a need for a Kleenex type story, and then back to the guffaws.
   I don’t know that I will ever actually charge into that complex; notebook, pen, Kleenex, and listening ear all at the ready. But, I hope that someone does, that someone stops to gather the stories.

Kitchen Sink, Rain-X, Closed Exits, and Arrival

Yesterday was the day we traveled to Ohio. This has become a sort of girl’s ritual for my mom and me, traveling from Iowa to Ohio, Ohio to Kentucky, and then back on to Iowa. I worked half the day, came home and traded my skirt, blouse, and heels for a tank top, shorts, and a pony-tail. It was such a hot day that I found myself slipping to the bathroom, where the door had been shut, for a few moments here and there. It would act like a quick reverse sauna, cooling rather than heating, when I was feeling like it was cooking outside, like I was cooking outside. I came home from work around twelve, and found the van pretty much packed and meatloaf on the counter for a quick sandwich… way to go mom! Grabbing the bread and meatloaf, the messy though tasty concoction was wrapped in a paper towel and the last minute to do’s were worked down. After about an hour of grabbing a bit of sandwich here and there, warning one of the dogs away from snitching it, and finishing packing; it was declared, “We can leave now, and I think I packed the kitchen sink.” I’m not sure why the kitchen sink is always the home tool that is used, but in this case it seemed appropriate.



With the van packed, CD’s appropriately playing, and sunglasses donned, we headed out of the driveway and Eastward. It wasn’t too far out until we started talking. One of the beauties of this arrangement is that it gives us time to talk and catch up. Starting off with how the day was, I heard about the rain-x that had gone onto the car in-case of rain. I didn’t give it much thought until the lightning caught my eye to the left of me, way out in the distance, and then to the right. Pretty soon great big drops started falling. I will gladly admit that the rain-x did its job beautifully. The rain was whisked away. I wondered about that rain, those great big drops fell fast and hard for a while, with wind blowing and making the trees on the sides of the roads sway. The rain, the wind, the lightning, they can all feel pretty much like a great big metaphor for life sometimes. Things will, people will batter and bruise us, sometimes with actions, but even more with attitudes, words, and omissions of the kind word. Wouldn’t it be great if we had some sort of a Rain-X Human that we could use? The ad could read, “One spritz and your troubles will roll right off.” I know it doesn’t work that way, but what about the protection that we can receive under God, “refuge in the shadow of your wings,” (Psalms 36:7b). A refuge is given because God knows that at times we are pelted by rain and wind, maybe even struck with lightning, deafened by thunder, or bruised by hale. We need a refuge where we are safe, one that is even better than a Rain-X for Homo sapiens.


Driving out of the rain, we continued on, changing drivers every now and then. Of course the shoes were off and the van dual climate controls were in full use. I was being frozen alive and would have arrived either in all of my clothing at one time, or a solid Popsicle. But we had fun, and then pulling out the map (thanks for the binder Dad!); to go around Indianapolis, we discovered that our exit was closed. Well, we decided to just keep going and make the other loop. Thankfully traffic wasn’t heavy and it was still a way around town that worked just fine. The thing about closed exits is that they are generally closed for a reason. I wondered what kind of work was being done on this one. Road repair? Bridge repair? The signs over the highways were encouraging carpooling and I had an image pop in my head of how many well dressed executives could you stuff into the mini cooper in the other lane. It was definitely time to get out and stretch.


We finally arrived, not in record time, but safe and sound. Welcomed graciously into my aunt and uncle’s home, with accompanying tail wagging by the dogs and sidelong mildly curious glances by the cat, we collapsed and slept. It’s good to be here, even though I am sure that the kitchen sink is still somewhere jammed under a seat in the van.

Just Like a Ripe Blueberry

The Disney movie, The Rocketman, has a rather predictable but hilarious character in Fred Randall. Fred, the typical geeky computer guy with a great heart is the main character and appears on the scene partially blue from being sucked into the toilet. You just have to watch the movie to understand. But, he looks at earth and compares it to a ripe blueberry, something that you hold so gently in your palm.

While I have not had the particular pleasure of comparing the earth to a ripe blueberry from space, I have had the chance from the air. The lines that I see on maps fade out and everything is seen from a much different view.

Technology has offered some different views as well. As I sat the other night, chatting with a friend in Ohio, looking at pictures of a friend in Florida, and challenging another to a game of Tetris, it once again surprised me at how very small the world has become. Technology, though it may seem to sterilize our communication at time when losing the emotional face to face interaction, allows quick and daily views into each other’s lives. We can even link in information from the Department of State to hear about what is going on in the government, see new exhibits with the Smithsonian, read the latest in professional journals, as well as read and watch about our own local town’s goings on.

I wonder if as we progress down the paths of technology, if the value of our face to face time will increase even more. I know there are predictions of how we will lose the ability to communicate except via technology. But, as something becomes more rare, it generally becomes more precious. I wonder if instead of typing classes, high schools will now have communication curriculum. I can read the class catalogue now, Day to Day Speaking 101: how to speak to your classmate without a computer in hand. Okay, so a bit of sarcastic tongue in cheek tone there, but really it may be the opposite of the predictions. We may learn to utilize the technology better, to facilitate communication rather than lose aspects of it.

Planks & Splinters

I’m accompanied on the couch by a body pillow, a regular pillow, and two of those fiber fill small squishy pillows. Somehow, those have all been formed together to hold my ankle and leg in a semi-comfortable positions. Otherwise, it feels like someone is taking a migraine headache, stuck it into my leg and stretched it out over my toes. Then, they wrapped yarns of pain around my ankle and leg all the way up to my knee. So, the pillow conglomeration confederation is in place and offering a little bit of relief and aid.

Yesterday was the Fall Festival of 2009 at my church, a day of music, games, crafts, bonfires, s’mores, fun and sore feet. Oh, and of course – home made doughnuts which were incredible and the fire department came to showcase one of the trucks.

Being rather immobile part of the time has forced me to slow down a bit, not by choice you understand. However, slowing down isn’t such a bad thing at times, though I do recommend a different method of momentum breaking. Sitting yesterday at the Fall Festival, I was watching many different members of the church body and the community come together for fellowship time. People pulled their different skills, talents, opinions, ideas, and worked together for a common purpose of serving the community. When you have so many people working together, even with the best of intentions, conflict can occur – after all people are messy. Sitting there, one leg propping up the other on a folding chair, I thought about planks and sawdust.

It is so easy to slip into a mindset of negative thought and words, tearing each other down. But, if I take the words in Matthew 7 seriously, I need to consider what plank is in my eye. Now, I wear contacts and know how uncomfortable sticking things in your eye can be – but a plank! That makes me think of a beam of wood, a grained conjunction of particles containing my own issues, my own sins. Before I open my mouth to complain about your sawdust, am I seeing beyond my own plank? Let’s strive to be a coherent body, a healthy collection of parts making a whole. I will work on disciplining my mind and words to address my plank. Will you?

The Cow Moot

Tolkien wrote of the ent moot – the gathering of the tree herders, the meeting in the dingle. The phrases which he spun are ones I wish to hold on too and wring every last ounce of poetic imagery from.

Driving down Highway 61, passing many farms and fields. There were horses which were slowly filing from the barns, the buffalo were still shaggy shadows against the wintered brown grass. But in one field, resting in a corner, there was a gathering of cows. As I drove past, I noticed the congregation and found myself pausing from singing with the normal abandon I practice in my car, to laugh at this site. In a pasture, marked by a large tree, where the land rises slowly and steadily to the fence posts meet at the corner, there lay a circle of cows. One cow, a light brown and white animal, was standing and facing the group. The rest were all laying around in a circle, each looking at the leader with focused bovine interest. I wondered what exactly this group could be discussing in their own variety of moos, snorts, and other cow sounds. Would the leader call them to order, give a roll call, and then set about going through the agenda? A meeting over hay, the field, and the hope that winter would soon be over perhaps. Maybe great conversations were held that morning over the farmer and the farmers family. The new farm dog might have brought some choice treats of news. Plans could have been made for calves which would soon join their family. News from the neighbor cows, the groundhog and his shadow and six weeks more of winter. The final discussion could have been where to meet for the next moot in the summer, to see them all again under the shade tree, and discuss the new calves, the new news.

So when you see me driving down the road next time, and I have paused from singing loudly with the radio, perhaps it because I have just seen a moot of cows and am wondering what it is they are meeting about.