Call It What You Want...

This week is the first week for the boys' school -- it's actually the parents' meeting and then the get-acquainted meetings (tuesday evening and then thursday morning, respectively).

Thursday is the first day of my *NEW* Moms' Bible Study at church, which I am leading. Call me crazy. Yes, indeed, but it only gets worse. But on this subject, I have missed being in a true Bible Study since I had to stop going to the Wednesday morning Ladies' Bible Study, led by the incomparable Joyce Windhorn (I truly respect this lady) because the boys were being too much of a distraction. I joined MOPS, but it didn't fill the need for a real Bible Study. Another one never came along. I just caved to the pressure. :) So Pastor Wade and I have worked on it, I ordered some study guides to consider, and this group will launch Thursday at 4 p.m. (with babysitting!). There are something like 10 women signed up for it. (I think totalling something like 800 kids, though I might be exaggerating.)

Is that enough?

Oh no. Last week Pastor Heather approached me about assisting in Confirmation. Egads, I can't abide junior high kids. I mean, in general. ... Except... They need good leaders (by the way, this is all my thinking, not anyone trying to "work" on me)... Two weeks a month... Eh...

Yeah. so I told Pastor Heather today that I'd give it a try and see if I can make it all work. Heh. Tim is all in favor of it. And Pastor Heather shrieked just a little. (I do so like to feel wanted!)

Am I crazy?

(Signs point to YES.)

Today was a very special day. My dear friend Anne came by with her new son, Aaron, who arrived this month. It has been a long journey for them -- Anne, Andy and Aaron -- to become a family, and I feel like I've had a front-row seat.

I cried back in March when she called and told me that the adoption people had called, and that, surprise of all surprises, their child, for whom they'd waited for all this time (they'd been in "the system" for over two years) was a boy! (Okay, so everyone who knows me knows that I'm soppy anyway.)

So today, Anne and Aaron stopped for a visit and lunch. The boys got along wonderfully, and Adam was very excited to have someone to show stuff to.

"Look!" Adam says, showing Aaron yet another exciting toy.

At one point, all three of them started doing laps around the dining room table, and since Aaron doesn't walk yet (he's working on it), all three were making the laps on all fours. It was cute.

Mark, for his part, was nervous about meeting his new friend, but discovered after Aaron had come and eaten with us that he was all right. "I know you, Anne," he told her. "I like you." This echoed some of the things I told him while he was waiting for Aaron to arrive. "You know Anne," I told him. "You like her. You'll like Aaron, too."

I'm looking forward to seeing the boys growing up together and being friends.

We went to MOPS today, and Adam didn't cry a single little cry.

Not even a whimper.

When it was time to drop him off, he actually stuck his arms out to the girl who watches him.

(Deep sigh of utter relief.)

This is a passage that was most likely inadvertently left out of the Gospel of Luke, 15th chapter:

"What three-year-old boy among you, if he has a hundred toys, including all of Bob the Builder's friends of which three are Scoop, does not leave the ninety-nine out on the floor of his room and go after the one which is lost,

"Enlisting his mother, small brother, even smaller friend Julia and her parents in looking for it, searching the entire house, from toybox to diapers to desk drawers to couch cushions until it is found?

"And when he has found it, he clutches it in his hand, rejoicing.

"And when he comes home, he calls together all of Bob's friends and all of his other toys, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the Scoop which was lost!'"

We are having our own little rejoicing going on here after the lost was found.

That's right, YOU, take a second and pray for my friends Jay and Mary Beth. The college where Jay is a professor, imparting knowledge and, I hope, wisdom to young minds, was hit by a tornado last night.

According to Mary Beth, also known as PastorMom, much of the campus was damaged, and they were opening their home to an "unknown number of cold, wet, and hungry students."

A local newspaper reports that none of the injuries that sent 51 students to the hospital were life-threatening but tells of a great deal of damage to the campus.

So. Say a quick prayer of thanks for protection for the students, and a prayer for the people who are taking students in, and for the students, faculty and staff in general...

Last week at church, the Sunday School children were given a box of Conversation Hearts, except they were "SERVING HEARTS."

Any time Mark did something helpful, or "had a serving heart," he could have one.

Throughout the week, he did several nice, serving things, like holding Adam's hand all the way across the parking lot going into church, helping pick up... He worked hard for his "serving hearts."

This morning at church, he did a little more. Walking in to church, he ran up to a mom of mostly-grown kids, threw his arms around her, and said, "I got more than TWO serving hearts this week!" I didn't even know he knew LeeAnn, though it turns out that she was the one who went from class to class telling the kids -- from preschool class all the way up -- about this Serving Hearts project. :) He remembered...

Then, in the hall going to Sunday School, he had a huge hug for Carrie, one of the moms who is regularly in his Sunday School class. He told her, "I'm so glad to see you!" Turns out that today, Carrie was doing children's sermon in church because all of the kids older than preschool were in service with their families today. And she mentioned how good it felt when one of the children came up and gave her a big hug today. And I was so proud that it was my very huggy little guy.

He also hugged some of his friends from the men's Bible study, his best friend Chaleen, and a bunch of other people too.

I'd say he had a Serving Heart today.

Our small group from church met today to cheer for the local team (who lost) in what might have been the boldest gathering yet:

Nine adults

Ten children ages 5 and under.

It actually was a great day. The kids had a blast playing together -- and Mark tugged Auntie Kim's heart a little when he walked into the house and ran to Chase and gave him a big hug and off the two boys went to play together.

(Compare, if you like, the above picture with one from June of 2003 for the change in the dynamics of our small group...)

NO, that really wasn't me crying UNCLE, despite hours of sleep for two nights that could be counted on one hand (total), or despite the fact that it was 11 high-school girls, or despite the fact that just after supper on the second evening, the motor at the bottom of the well at the camp went out, leaving us without running water for the rest of the evening or the following morning. Or the fact that just after I built the most perfect campfire that would have yielded the best hot coals for making s'mores after flaming to glorious heights to make everyone happy, a huge boom of thunder followed some ominous rumbles, and by the time we'd spread out my fine logs in the fire pit and returned to the retreat center, it was raining, and my perfect fire had to be abandoned for a lame one in the fireplace inside that took about an hour to get going.

I was the third of three chaperones for our church's high school youth retreat this weekend (Thursday-Saturday). Our group consisted of 11 girls -- two high school juniors, one sophomore. Yeah. And eight freshmen -- our youth director Shelly and Pastor Heather. We drove 2 1/2 hours to a Lutheran camp near Angola.

The first rather amusing thing that showed these young ladies' characters was how they got settled in. We were divided into two rooms in a "duplex" style cabin -- self-dividing, some go here with Shelly, some go here with Pastor Heather and Jenny. Our girls proceded to spread out all across the cabin. Piles of bags and belongings scattered about. What? Making up the bed? We can do that at bedtime. I haven't talked to some of these girls since we got out of the car a minute and a half ago!
I stuck my nose into Shelly's side to ask a question and was startled at the difference. All the beds were made up, sleeping bags carefully spread across the bunks, possibly even tucked in on the edges, pillows carefully centered on the beds. What, did some of the moms come too? My cabin never got any better. Shelly's never got any worse.

I started to worry about how seriously some of these girls were going to take it. Several of them spent a lot of the ice-breaker time cutting up, asking silly questions, trying to make others laugh, but when we actually started the serious stuff, those were the girls who jumped right in. There was a question-and-answer time with some "super hero" Bible characters, and they did a great job finding out about Deborah, David, Timothy, Rahab, and Lydia. ("At her feet he sank, he fell; there he lay. At her feet he sank, he fell; where he sank, there he fell -- dead.") And others who didn't ask as many questions then came up with great observations.

They were ready for bed at lights out. I can assure you with all confidence of the veracity of the fact that they went right to sleep with no shenanigans or moaning. They didn't get up to do anything stupid. They didn't even snore, or talk more than one girl's single mumble. I know this for a fact because I did not choose to participate in the sleep activity. Yeah. Something about sleeping bags and camp cots -- even if you get the counselor bed that doesn't have a bunk. I am pretty sure I was asleep before 5 a.m. I was up at 7:26. Four minutes before my alarm would not wake anyone but those of us who were already awake (=Pastor Heather and me).

Friday included more sessions, great participation from the girls, and then the fun of Jenny's wilderness/survival activities. We divided the challenges into three stations: fire-building, shelter, and first-aid. The girls had some supplies and had to use what they had and what they could find. One girl even was willing to sacrifice her hair band for the fire-building cause (and gambled well, because she got it back unharmed). Only one volunteer "died" in the first aid challenge, her group mistaking heat exhaustion for hypothermia. Oops. All managed to make good shelters, which I wished I'd gotten to see. (I was supervising the fires.) Shelly took some pictures; if the church's email ever gets fixed, I'll have her send some.

Then we had a code challenge: each group had to hide a treasure (a baby food jar filled with Nerds) and then make a code that would allow another group to find it, but not too easily: if the finding group did so in less than five minutes, they would get bonus points. It was then that the chaperones decided to use our super powers for EVIL. One group innocently decided to hide their treasure in Shelly's pocket. Thus was born the idea to be spies. But we didn't have to work very hard at it -- another group proudly showed me their code -- a poem-clue -- and asked if I could guess where it was hidden. I did, and they worried it was too easy so they then made a terrific rebus-puzzle for it. The third group showed their clue to Shelly and me and challenged us to find it. Ah, it was like taking candy from babies... So we stole the prizes from their hiding places and then watched to see if the groups would solve the codes. (Turns out they didn't, but we took some captives anyway.) We also gave them the candy back and gave them points for cool codes -- all groups did a great job.

Shelly, Heather and I opted for quick showers before the afternoon session before supper. That ended up being a lucky choice, as a couple hours later the camp manager would come tell us that the pump was dead, a repair person wouldn't be available until 10 a.m. tomorrow, and there would be no water for showering, washing or flushing.

The storm that rained out our campfire allowed the girls to watch Veggie Tales inside while waiting to toast marshmallows. Then off to bed, and I chose to participate in the sleep activity on a limited basis. Ah, yes, and had to get up to go to the bathroom around 3:30. Since I wouldn't be able to flush anyway, AND since it was raining, I decided to do it the camp way. Took a lot less time. And wasn't as cold. Or as wet. :)

Clean-up of the cabins was as contrasting as settling in on Thursday night -- Shelly's side was packed, cleaned up, and ready to help with other clean-up before "some" members of my side were dressed. I'm not even kidding. But we got everything loaded into the cars before morning worship, then finished last bits after worship and headed for home.

The girls were great. Yeah, sleep wasn't so great, but, hey, it's only a couple nights. (And I got a nap when I got home, and will be going to bed very very very soon now.) And I was really pleased at how seriously the girls took the things we did. We had them write notes to themselves for Shelly to send them later, and they all really took time to do them. I don't think anyone scribbled anything down just to get done. Each girl had a jar with her name on it, and the girls were encouraged during the weekend to write encouraging thoughts to each person, and when they got into the cars to leave, we gave each girl her jar. My carload opened them immediately to read what the others had said. And no one's jar was sparsely filled -- and no one wrote mean or stupid stuff, either.

Yeah. I even told Pastor Heather I'd do it again.  

Yesterday during Sunday School I had to retrieve a teacher from Mark's class for a quick skit in church. When I peeked in, I saw Mark in the circle with the other children singing a song, his hands in front of him, side-by-side, palms up, fingers curled up, and I suspected he was making the familiar "Bible" motion.

So later, I asked him what song he sang with his hands like that.

In a slightly tuneless form, he sang:

The B-R-B-L-E
Yes That's the book for me
I stand alone on the Word of God
The B-R-B-L-E!

Then there was a little poem about the Bible verse, which I don't remember, but which he also nailed. (There was no spelling involved.)

Hurray! Mark is learning Sunday School songs! Thank you, Mrs. Day!

Or... how many degrees of separation?

The other day I was visiting the blog of my friend Chuck (also linked on this page as Dr. Chuck Pearson). Chuck had cross-posted a piece that he'd posted on the site Growing Up Goddy.

I went to the site, and fully enjoyed all of the posts I read. Pretty cool site, and I've marked it in my favorites.

One of the sites linked on 'Goddy was Kamp Krusty. Naturally, with a name like that, I had to go see. The name of the fellow who writes the blog sounded a little familiar. It was made more familiar when I saw a reference to it on 'Goddy, where Chuck mentioned the guy's previous involvement with a band whose name I recognized. Ah-ha! I scrolled down Kamp Krusty's links to find what I expected: my brother darin. No, not my brother, his. Darin was the youth minister at the church I attended during my glorious year of employment in the field of my college major in a town quite far away though only one state away. He and his wife were a breath of fresh air -- and friendship -- until he took a job in Indianapolis and moved away. (Oh, and they let me use their house to do laundry while they were gone.) 

So I visited Darin's blog for a while, and came across on his blogroll a name that was also familiar, for different reasons. Brian Eberly is a pastor who sometimes visits -- and links to -- my brother The Thief (yes, this time it is my brother).

And My Brother The Thief links to me.

(I could make this longer by saying that my brother the thief links to Big Mama who then links to the Dunce who then links to me, but that's just making things complicated.)

The band that the Krusty guy was in, incidentally, was Farewell to Juliet. Tim mentions that he wrote a lot of newsletters for the Rose-Hulman chapter of InterVarsity to the music of Farewell to Juliet. So we've just drawn the Noblesvillian in, too.

Baptism day went off without a hitch; more pictures will be posted soon. Pastor Wade did not do the quick and careless job I dreamed about a couple nights before, and Adam's godparents did make it after all (also unlike my dream) -- though "someone" might have gotten out of the house in her sandals instead of her church shoes (but Grandma AJ saved the day by trading since Tara would have looked a little less than formal up there in her red adidas shoes... I mean "someone").

You say you're not sure if Adam and Mark look a great deal alike? Think maybe Adam might look a little more like Mommy or something?

Hmmm.
Who are those cute boys? Every time I start thinking Adam looks less like Mark than I originally thought, he goes and pulls something like this on me.

More later.

Happy New Year!

That I love my boys???

I haven't written for a while so I just thought I would include some funny stories on what the boys are up to.

Adam turned four months on Friday. His favorite person is Mark. Yes, Mark is more favored than Mommy, but that's okay. Sunday he chose to skip his morning church nap; he was being passed between two of our good friends, Kristen and Brianna, and their friend during service and was far too excited to nap.

Mark has done it again with cars. A couple months ago we were walking past a driveway in our neighborhood and he pointed at the car there and announced "Grampa car". Turns out, yes, Grandpa Larry drives a Chevy Lumina, just the car that was in that drive (though I should add that the next time we saw it, after Mark had seen Grandpa's car with its dashboard alligators, Mark was a little upset that this car didn't have "lizards" too). 
Last week we walked past a truck in the same driveway and he called it "Shawn truck." I was pretty sure the truck our friend Shawn drives is a Dodge Ram, but, okay, I'm sure a Ford F-150 is similar. So when we got home I called Linda and asked her what kind of truck Shawn has. Don't you know, it's a Ford F-150. Sort of pitiful when the 2-year-old knows better than mommy what sort of vehicles people have...

And -- this one's for Grandma Sarah (get out yer Kleenex, Ma)...

I was putting Mark to bed Friday night and he pointed up at the candle from his baptism. "Can'le. Church."
"Yes, Mark," I said, "that's from church. That's from--"
He interrupted me. "Ba-tized. Water. Head."
How do you know this stuff?!?! I had to tell Pastor Wade this story. His jaw just dropped. "He gets it. He's only two, but he gets it." It just amazes me what he gets.
I told him about how Pastor Doug made the sign of the Cross on his head and on his heart, and so now Mark points to his head and says "Cross," then then points to his chest and says "Heart." I so love that little boy.

(The candle in Pastor Doug's hand is the candle in question.)

On that note, Adam will be baptized at our church, Bethel Lutheran, at 9:30 a.m. on Dec. 31. If you're in the area, you're more than welcome! If you don't have a church and would like to check ours out, you're welcome for that, too. Pastor Heather and Pastor Wade will be officiating in this baptism.

It was bedtime, and the boys were doing prayers. Well, the two bigger ones. (The little one was already asleep.)

Tim asked Mark, "What are you thankful for?"

The first thing, Tim doesn't remember.

"What else are you thankful for?"

Tim remembers this one. Mark said, "Jesus."

And cars.

"I wasn't even feeding him" the answers, Tim insisted. "We were reading from the Bible story book, but we were reading in the Old Testament."

Yeah, well, he's doing something right.

(Okay, Grandma Sarah, you can get up and get that tissue to wipe your eyes.)

Okay, Kids, take a deep breath. It's late and we all seem to be a little testy. I will deal with the comments from the last blog and then we can get back to the regularly scheduled blogging.

RT, Mrs. H., check with Hammer, because I sent him what I thought was a nice email explaining the Bible Thumper comment, which, if you'll look, was not relating to him at all.

I haven't banned anyone from this blog; if any further comments didn't appear, it was due to settings for this blog that filter out obscene content, which I seriously doubt any of you made.

This really isn't a "lively debate" sort of blog, as I told Hammer in my email to him. This is more of a "keeping my friends posted" sort of place. I don't mind if people I don't know stop by to visit, comment, whatever. I even had a whole lot more in this blog explaining my position, but that turns this into a lively debate sort of blog, which wasn't my intent.

In closing, I will include the exact last paragraph I sent to Hammer in my email, and thank everyone to lower your voices and relax.

"Forgive me for not offering much lively discussion of issues on my own website," I told him with a nice little smiley face. "I generally look to the lighter side, though if you’d like to discuss where you think the people on Texas Ranch House on PBS went wrong, your favorite material or time period for historic clothing, or cute exploits of a favorite kid, this is your place. :)  I wish you the best in your ministry and hope for your continued success in spreading the word of Christ to those who need it the most.

Now may the Lord of peace Himself continually grant you peace in every circumstance.

Sincerely, Jenny"

I hope this clears up a thing or two. Feel free to be outraged and never visit this site again if it doesn't fit what you think a blog should be.

For three days it’s been troubling me, eating at me, and I have to say it: Some questions in this world do not have a definite answer. There are many valuable opinions on many subjects, even those of faith, which is why in a social, small-talk setting, you’re not supposed to discuss religion or politics. Stay away, because there are those who think they know everything, and if you don’t agree with them, you’re just flat-out wrong, pagan, going straight to Hell and I hope you burn on the way, heretical idiots.

I’m sorry, but in this world, there are a lot of questions that do not have answers. I still believe there are definite right and wrong, but I think there are a lot more things that aren’t so clear. I’m not a moral relativist; I’m a realist.

I confess, I’m a recovering know-it-all. There have been many times when I’ve wanted to show everyone how smart and full-of-faith I am by having the answer to every question there is. But face it:

* There isn’t always an answer here on earth.

* I don't know everything - and I'm actually okay with that.

* I am not God – nor do I want to be, nor do you want me to be – and so my pronouncements are no more valid than yours or anyone else’s.

* High-minded, arrogant ideas and stubborn clinging to one’s own “rightness” tend to go out the window when one realizes that each individual (even if he’s a liberal, God forbid) is of great worth to God and the Kingdom, and preaching how wrong he is isn’t going to help him a jot.

Recently I let myself be dragged into a fairly stupid discussion-slash-argument. It started over a matter of opinion – and irony – and turned into a slugfest, complete with arrogant assertions and calling into question the original writer’s salvation, believe it or not, over a statue. Anyone who didn’t agree with our arrogant friend was obviously a heretic – though I believe my own comments on the matter were considered too far beneath his supreme intelligence to even be acknowledged. Just as well. I looked him up and learned a little about him, including his new faith, young marriage, and current seminary enrollment. I have read many of his own internet posts and find much of what he writes for himself thorough, well-researched, and well-spoken, though a bit heavy-handed and dogmatic at times. However, it’s when someone else has a differing opinion that he seems to dissolve into name-calling. Sad.

It’s not the lively discussion that irritates me as much as the arrogance and name-calling. I know of few people who have come to a saving faith in Jesus Christ because they were shouted down in a discussion by a Christian. If I blatantly and repeatedly tell people that they are stupid and that their opinions, feelings and beliefs are invalid, and that they're flat-out wrong, they seldom wish to share the joy I claim to have in Christ and the communion with the Saints. You can catch a lot more flies with honey than with your self-righteous arrogance stick. Showing people you care about them is a lot more effective than showing them how superior you are.

I can only hope that said arrogant seminarian meets a few actual people before he takes his first pastorate and learns to care. And then I sit back and thank some people who taught me that loving my neighbor is a lot more important than always winning the argument: Kevin, Mikki, Michelle, Angela, Anne, Andrea, Masha, Jason, and yes, even Lu. May I always remember humility before my pride gets in the way.

Philippians 2:1-4: “If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”