There's a song often played on the Christian radio here:
Washed By the Water by Needtobreathe
Daddy was a preacher
She was his wife . . . .
The story goes on that the people in the church had criticized the father, saying that he'd made the wrong choice in marrying her.
A very relevant story, one that has probably happened. It certainly shows how mean people, who are supposed to be G-d's family, can be. I like the song, but there a couple lines that bother me.
(Let me say here that I am sure this is not the way the writer meant it; this is just the way I see it, from my life exerience.)
The lines are:
Those people have long since gone, (from the church were "Daddy was a preacher")
My father never failed. (indicating, in this case, that he remained steadfast in the church)
The reasons these two lines bother me are:
1. The church I used to be in assumed and taught that if a person left it, that person was the one at fault; the church never -- ever -- took any responsibility.
2. I was told by an authority figure who was dear to me there that leaving that church was tantamount to an egregious, blasphemous, act of an apostate (not using those words, because I cannot remember the exact words, but the statement was that strong).
3. Those who left were often and easily spoken of with disdain and meanness, and sometimes with a patronizing pity.
I admit it: I still chafe occasionally in those few times my mind wanders back to what happened there. It doesn't happen much anymore, but when I hear this song, I will remember.
I have recently come to the place at which if I see one of the people on the street, it will not cause pain -- 10 years after the pastor there told me I was not wanted. I may even attend a service if I am somewhere that a family member will ask me to, which is something I could not do for several of those years.
G-d is good. His mercy is ever lasting. He heals the wounded and sends them on in the pathway He has chosen, making them far more than just "glad" to be there and not back where they were.
G-d bless those who have fled the wounding place.
G-d bless those who are still wounded.
G-d bless those whose G-d has raised them far above the past.
And G-d, please forgive those who wound, giving us the strength to overlook the wrongs, leaving both the wounds and the wounders in Your able hands.
Those people have long since gone,
My father never failed.
Too many times, those who leave are the ones who are following the L-rd.
10 June 2010
10 May 2010
Sexual Harassment in the Workplace
There is a show I like to watch sometimes -- In the heat of the Night. I like it, because it sometimes brings back old memories, old sights, old ideas -- some of which are pleasant, but some are very unpleasant.
Today, it brought up a very unpleasant memory of a problem that was nation-wide, with some improvement over the years -- The problem of sexual harassment in the workplace.
In the story, a woman was working for a male boss who required certain sexual activity, in order for her to keep her job. Eventually, he raped her. The next time she was required to work late, she brought a gun. When he came toward her, she fired, killing him.
As the story ended, the detective was walking with his wife, who had expressed sympathy for the woman. His response to her was that she had done the wrong thing (granted). Then he added that the right thing would have been to quit her job.
Of course, the story ended this way in order to incite the very feelings I had, upon hearing his statement: anger. An extreme sense of anger, accompanied with my own memories of sexual harassment on the job.
In my first "real" job, I was a dental assistant, and the elderly dentist thought it was all right for him to pinch my breasts. Unfortunately, because I had no idea that I could do anything about it, this went on for months, until I became engaged and, feeling more empowered, I told him to stop.
I wish the harassment had stopped then, but no -- when my first husband died, and I went back to work, I cashiered for Country Club Markets in Bloomington, MN. My boss knew my first husband and knew I was widowed. Did that stop him? No! He told me dirty jokes every day, after my first few weeks there, as I was working. And every day, I told him his behavior was unacceptable.
Then he started putting his arms around me. I went home and decided what I had to do.
Women had no recourse then: we ALWAYS lost our jobs, and our harassers always continued their climb up the corporate ladder, while we had to start over elsewhere.
The next day, sure enough, he sneaked up behind me, and put his arms around me again. I made a fist with my right hand, and using my left hand for added force, I hit him as hard as I could in the mid-stomach with my elbow. He moaned loudly, grabbed his stomach, and took off for the meat department. I followed him. I walked up to him and said, "I quit."
That was the only satisfaction I could expect in 1977: to hurt him and get by with it, then lose my bi-weekly paycheck.
I used to think that the days of women paying for sexual harassment were over. But they are not. I worked in 2001 for a large lumber company. A man there started, and as soon as he did, I told. I got "laid off"; he kept working. I was clueless that this could happen, until I brought it up at my synagogue and was told that I should have gotten a lawyer, and they should have heard of his actions from that lawyer, not me.
In 2004, I finally got up the nerve to seek employment again, when I learned that my husband's church was looking for someone to run the office. It looked perfect to me! They had no pastor, and after having experienced sexual harassment from three pastors in the old church, this looked perfect!
I got the job! And things went wonderfully, until they hired a pastor. I told my husband that night, "There goes my job." I promised him I would stay, though, until something happened.
Nothing did. And I am still there, loving my job and all the people there.
Now here's the bottom line of what I want to convey: teach your children that they and they alone have power over their bodies while at work, at school, and in church, as well as other places. If I had only known. If only!
But I can thank G-d that He protected me from rape, in spite of my ignorance.
Today, it brought up a very unpleasant memory of a problem that was nation-wide, with some improvement over the years -- The problem of sexual harassment in the workplace.
In the story, a woman was working for a male boss who required certain sexual activity, in order for her to keep her job. Eventually, he raped her. The next time she was required to work late, she brought a gun. When he came toward her, she fired, killing him.
As the story ended, the detective was walking with his wife, who had expressed sympathy for the woman. His response to her was that she had done the wrong thing (granted). Then he added that the right thing would have been to quit her job.
Of course, the story ended this way in order to incite the very feelings I had, upon hearing his statement: anger. An extreme sense of anger, accompanied with my own memories of sexual harassment on the job.
In my first "real" job, I was a dental assistant, and the elderly dentist thought it was all right for him to pinch my breasts. Unfortunately, because I had no idea that I could do anything about it, this went on for months, until I became engaged and, feeling more empowered, I told him to stop.
I wish the harassment had stopped then, but no -- when my first husband died, and I went back to work, I cashiered for Country Club Markets in Bloomington, MN. My boss knew my first husband and knew I was widowed. Did that stop him? No! He told me dirty jokes every day, after my first few weeks there, as I was working. And every day, I told him his behavior was unacceptable.
Then he started putting his arms around me. I went home and decided what I had to do.
Women had no recourse then: we ALWAYS lost our jobs, and our harassers always continued their climb up the corporate ladder, while we had to start over elsewhere.
The next day, sure enough, he sneaked up behind me, and put his arms around me again. I made a fist with my right hand, and using my left hand for added force, I hit him as hard as I could in the mid-stomach with my elbow. He moaned loudly, grabbed his stomach, and took off for the meat department. I followed him. I walked up to him and said, "I quit."
That was the only satisfaction I could expect in 1977: to hurt him and get by with it, then lose my bi-weekly paycheck.
I used to think that the days of women paying for sexual harassment were over. But they are not. I worked in 2001 for a large lumber company. A man there started, and as soon as he did, I told. I got "laid off"; he kept working. I was clueless that this could happen, until I brought it up at my synagogue and was told that I should have gotten a lawyer, and they should have heard of his actions from that lawyer, not me.
In 2004, I finally got up the nerve to seek employment again, when I learned that my husband's church was looking for someone to run the office. It looked perfect to me! They had no pastor, and after having experienced sexual harassment from three pastors in the old church, this looked perfect!
I got the job! And things went wonderfully, until they hired a pastor. I told my husband that night, "There goes my job." I promised him I would stay, though, until something happened.
Nothing did. And I am still there, loving my job and all the people there.
Now here's the bottom line of what I want to convey: teach your children that they and they alone have power over their bodies while at work, at school, and in church, as well as other places. If I had only known. If only!
But I can thank G-d that He protected me from rape, in spite of my ignorance.
05 May 2010
My post, copied from "North and South"
G-d helping me, my inner southern belle needs to make herself more evident in my attitudes, thoughts, and actions.
I remember the attitudes of certain women I met in the South and in those who were from the South, and I really admire a lot of them. (Certainly, I met some whose attitudes and actions were certainly NOT admirable, but these are not what this is about.)
Now, I am definitelty a Westerner and a Yankee, but I am 36% southern Belle. I know this for sure: I took the test! You can take it, too -- right here! Sorry! I don't think the link is working. Try this: http://www.alphadictionary.com/articles/yankeetest.html
I didn't score quite as I expected on the next test -- I got "21% Dixie. You are a dandy Yankee Doodle." That test is here.
(You might want to check this out as well.)
But this is about the word gracious.
I recognize that some of the southern ladies I have met smiled sweetly and called people "honey," but as soon (or almost as soon!) as they were out of earshot, they had some biting things to say about those people. I am also aware that some southern ladies had a special way of talking to some people that would make them think they were being complimented -- until 15 minutes later, at which time they would suddenly comprehend that they had been solidly put down, lower than a worms' belly, by a woman with the sweetest smile on earth!
But there were also Southern Ladies who were an actual study in genteelity of the most unaffected kind. They were gracious. They were noble. They came across as cultured and kind, thus the capital S and the capital L on Southern Ladies here.
Such manners were not what I learned in my first fifty years. Let me change that -- in my first 55 years. I have been (as I have mentioned before) rough-and-tumble, loving the say-what-you-mean-and-mean-what-you-say attitude, holding no courtliness -- and-proud-of-it. Daring and once wild, I embraced and coddled what I see as my semi-hippy-like demeanor, holding it boldly in the face of anyone who was put off by it.
But I started a journey some 5 years ago that took me in a different direction.
For one thing, I was raised to be a Bible-thumper, and I am a Bible-thumper. But I simply did not realize what the Bible actually says! I read it through the dark, dark glasses of what I was, rather than reading it for what it says. Furthermore, certain people who were very influential to me reinforced this with meanness and vitriol that I swallowed and lived.
But having been away from such folk, gathering information from a different set of people, I began to see something different -- a different way to live. Only then did I see what the Bible had said all along: Be nice! Be nice! Be nice! It's in the Torah. It's in the Psalms. It's in the books of the prophets. It's in the books by the apostles.
So I began to take on those ways.
Then I met a certain young southern lady who told me, "That's your inner southern belle coming through!"
She was teasing, of course, but I began to consider that those very special southern ladies were like and decided that I could take that description on as well as declaring that I am simply learning what the Bible is actually saying about how I must conduct my life.
So fine! I am better off now for seeing how the Bible says I ought to act and trying to follow it, but I am also learning from the southern ladies -- the real Southern Ladies -- regarding how I can carry out biblical principles. I am sure the L-rd won't mind!
I remember the attitudes of certain women I met in the South and in those who were from the South, and I really admire a lot of them. (Certainly, I met some whose attitudes and actions were certainly NOT admirable, but these are not what this is about.)
Now, I am definitelty a Westerner and a Yankee, but I am 36% southern Belle. I know this for sure: I took the test! You can take it, too -- right here! Sorry! I don't think the link is working. Try this: http://www.alphadictionary.com/articles/yankeetest.html
I didn't score quite as I expected on the next test -- I got "21% Dixie. You are a dandy Yankee Doodle." That test is here.
(You might want to check this out as well.)
But this is about the word gracious.
I recognize that some of the southern ladies I have met smiled sweetly and called people "honey," but as soon (or almost as soon!) as they were out of earshot, they had some biting things to say about those people. I am also aware that some southern ladies had a special way of talking to some people that would make them think they were being complimented -- until 15 minutes later, at which time they would suddenly comprehend that they had been solidly put down, lower than a worms' belly, by a woman with the sweetest smile on earth!
But there were also Southern Ladies who were an actual study in genteelity of the most unaffected kind. They were gracious. They were noble. They came across as cultured and kind, thus the capital S and the capital L on Southern Ladies here.
Such manners were not what I learned in my first fifty years. Let me change that -- in my first 55 years. I have been (as I have mentioned before) rough-and-tumble, loving the say-what-you-mean-and-mean-what-you-say attitude, holding no courtliness -- and-proud-of-it. Daring and once wild, I embraced and coddled what I see as my semi-hippy-like demeanor, holding it boldly in the face of anyone who was put off by it.
But I started a journey some 5 years ago that took me in a different direction.
For one thing, I was raised to be a Bible-thumper, and I am a Bible-thumper. But I simply did not realize what the Bible actually says! I read it through the dark, dark glasses of what I was, rather than reading it for what it says. Furthermore, certain people who were very influential to me reinforced this with meanness and vitriol that I swallowed and lived.
But having been away from such folk, gathering information from a different set of people, I began to see something different -- a different way to live. Only then did I see what the Bible had said all along: Be nice! Be nice! Be nice! It's in the Torah. It's in the Psalms. It's in the books of the prophets. It's in the books by the apostles.
So I began to take on those ways.
Then I met a certain young southern lady who told me, "That's your inner southern belle coming through!"
She was teasing, of course, but I began to consider that those very special southern ladies were like and decided that I could take that description on as well as declaring that I am simply learning what the Bible is actually saying about how I must conduct my life.
So fine! I am better off now for seeing how the Bible says I ought to act and trying to follow it, but I am also learning from the southern ladies -- the real Southern Ladies -- regarding how I can carry out biblical principles. I am sure the L-rd won't mind!
03 May 2010
A Funny
I got a little irritated with my husband today. As a member of the church I work for, he often gets monthly offering-counting duty. This is his month. Because my position's Monday duties include accounting for the offering, I noticed a discrepancy and called to ask him about it in order to know if someone had told him to do something other than what should be done.
He told me what he had been told to do, so thinking out loud, I commented back that it should not have been done that way, so I would have to either correct it or send it to the accountant to deal with it. At that point, he started telling me what to do.
Okay. It's my job. I have been working there since 2004, and as my boss tells me, I am the Office Goddess: I think things out, I make the decisions, I make the rules, I set office procedure, I fix things, and what I say goes. So when he started telling me what to do, I admit it: I got irritated.
It's not like this is the first time I have gotten irritated with my poor husband for telling me how to do things I know how to do that are things he has no clue about! It actually happens often! But I keep my tongue. Today, however, I decided it was doing neither one of us any good to continue being silent about it.
A while after I had been home, I brought it up to him. Leaving out his side of this conversation:
But I know we will both be more careful . . . .
He told me what he had been told to do, so thinking out loud, I commented back that it should not have been done that way, so I would have to either correct it or send it to the accountant to deal with it. At that point, he started telling me what to do.
Okay. It's my job. I have been working there since 2004, and as my boss tells me, I am the Office Goddess: I think things out, I make the decisions, I make the rules, I set office procedure, I fix things, and what I say goes. So when he started telling me what to do, I admit it: I got irritated.
It's not like this is the first time I have gotten irritated with my poor husband for telling me how to do things I know how to do that are things he has no clue about! It actually happens often! But I keep my tongue. Today, however, I decided it was doing neither one of us any good to continue being silent about it.
A while after I had been home, I brought it up to him. Leaving out his side of this conversation:
"We get along really well. I rarely get irritated with you, because we really get along amazingly well. Perhaps that's why when I get irritated with you, it really stands out to me. But I have to bring this up to you because I need help. We both need help on this issue. I am asking for you to think this through and help me.
"Today, when I called you about the bookkeeping problem, you tried to tell me what to do. I run the office, and I know what to do, Honey -- you don't! Yet you told me what to do, and you were wrong!
"So I said, 'Uh-huh. Uh-huh,' and that was wrong! I felt like a liar. I felt disrespectful toward you, because I wasn't being honest. The problem is that this happens often, and I don't know how to do this right! I need your help!
"Is it because you were born a big brother and i was born a little sister? Do you think that's what's happening? But I need a solution.
"First, I really need you to try not to tell me how to do my job -- at work and at home! I admit that it bothers me when anyone tries to tell me what I already know or what they don't know when I do. I know this.
"Second, I need a better attitude. I am sorry I am troubled by this and that I have not said anything.
"What do you suggest?"He apologized for the misunderstanding, thought a moment, then he said:
"Well, it really doesn't matter if I get my way or you get my way . . . ."And that was the end of the conversation. We both broke up laughing and never bothered to finish our conversation!! I'm still snickering!
But I know we will both be more careful . . . .
19 April 2010
"Woo! I don't think anyone gets as excited as I do about root beer!"
I was cooking dinner tonight when I decided to make a root beer. "Woo!" I shouted as I tasted it. Then I realized how funny that really was. I called out to my husband, who was in another room, "I don't think anyone gets as excited as I do about root beer!"
It is kind of odd. One of the young men at my synagogue and I have an on-going conversation about root beer. His, he says, must have licorice in it.
"Ewww!," I responded.
"If there's no licorice in it, it isn't real root beer," he told me.
I will just continue drinking mine, then, fake or not.
I rarely have sugar, so I make mine using white soda, agave, and McCormick's root beer flavoring. I make it and drink it right away -- it's not the kind that ripens -- that always tastes way too boozy to me.
So I had one tonight. What a delight. Good thing it was -- the fish was way too salty, so all I ate was rice and broccoli. The memory of the root beer soothed my palate after the fish disappointment.
It is kind of odd. One of the young men at my synagogue and I have an on-going conversation about root beer. His, he says, must have licorice in it.
"Ewww!," I responded.
"If there's no licorice in it, it isn't real root beer," he told me.
I will just continue drinking mine, then, fake or not.
I rarely have sugar, so I make mine using white soda, agave, and McCormick's root beer flavoring. I make it and drink it right away -- it's not the kind that ripens -- that always tastes way too boozy to me.
So I had one tonight. What a delight. Good thing it was -- the fish was way too salty, so all I ate was rice and broccoli. The memory of the root beer soothed my palate after the fish disappointment.
16 March 2010
Emergency Preparedness #3: Must Dos for Earthquake Country
Not sleeping. So I looked up some things that we in earthquake country should do, finding these early "must dos" here. Check this site out for more information regarding special tools to keep in your kit.
Up to now, I have had a tendency to just laugh and ride the earthquakes out. With what has been happening around the world lately, what makes me think that we are above having similarly dangerous earthquakes?
I have said, "Well, our 105-year-old house has made it through 105 years-worth of earthquakes, so no problem." What makes me think that it can take another 6-pointer? Shall I live as a fool or plan . . . and what if my bears and grandbears are here when it strikes?
So, the site says:
Up to now, I have had a tendency to just laugh and ride the earthquakes out. With what has been happening around the world lately, what makes me think that we are above having similarly dangerous earthquakes?
I have said, "Well, our 105-year-old house has made it through 105 years-worth of earthquakes, so no problem." What makes me think that it can take another 6-pointer? Shall I live as a fool or plan . . . and what if my bears and grandbears are here when it strikes?
So, the site says:
- Secure it now! Conduct a "hazard hunt" to help identify and fix things such as unsecured televisions, computers, bookcases, furniture, unstrapped water heaters, etc. Securing these items now will help to protect you tomorrow.
- Make a plan. Planning for an earthquake is not much different from planning for a party or vacation. Make sure that your emergency plan includes evacuation and reunion plans; your out-of-state contact person's name and number; the location of your emergency supplies and other pertinent information.
- Make disaster kits. Everyone should have a disaster supply kit stored in accessible locations at home, at work and in your vehicle. Having emergency supplies readily available can reduce the impact of an earthquake. Your disaster supplies kits should include food, water, flashlights, portable radios, batteries, a first aid kit, cash, extra medications, a whistle, fire extinguisher, etc.
- Is your place safe? Most houses are not as safe as they could be. Whether you are a homeowner or a renter, there are things that you can do to improve the structural integrity of your home. Some of the things that you might consider checking include inadequate foundations, unbraced cripple walls (a short wall built upon the foundation of a house that produces a high crawlspace), soft first stories (click here for details), unreinforced masonry and vulnerable pipes. Consult a contractor or engineer to help you identify your building's weaknesses and begin to fix them now.
- Drop, cover, and hold on! Learn what to do during an earthquake, whether you're at home, at work, at school or just out and about. Taking the proper actions, such as "Drop, Cover, and Hold On", can save lives and reduce your risk of death or injury. During earthquakes, drop to the floor, take cover under a sturdy desk or table, and hold on to it firmly. Be prepared to move with it until the shaking stops.
- Check it out. One of the first things you should do following a major disaster is to check for injuries and damages that need immediate attention. Make sure you are trained in first aid and in damage assessment techniques. You should be able to administer first aid and to identify hazards such as damaged gas, water, sewage and electrical lines.
- Communicate and recover. Following a major disaster, communication will be an important step in your recovery efforts. Turn on your portable radio for information and safety advisories. For most Presidential declared disasters, resources will also be available from federal, state, and local government agencies.
15 March 2010
Grandfather
I decided I would occasionally add some of my poetry. I have written quite a bit over the years, some of which I saved, while much of which I didn't. Some of my poetry is stright-forward, some carries hidden meaning, and some that I saved is really quite ominously vicious. --!!
I wrote the following in the early to mid 1990s.
I had a wonderful opportunity to know Father's parents. I especially loved Grandfather, a tall, muscular man who was so gentle toward me. He strongly impressed me with his kindness and intelligence, even more so when I became a woman.
The following is titled "A Visit to Grandfather's Garage." It truly was Grandfather's garage, but Grandmother's touch could also be seen in it.
A Visit to Grandfather's Garage
An ancient car with rounded fenders
sits undisturbed, immaculate,
surrounded by painted shelves.
Ancient tools in careful order,
Mason jars of prism colors,
each in their labeled place.
For us, on the workbench,
a box of fresh walnuts,
two others of apples and pears.
They blend their fragrances.
From the door,
Grandfather laughs.
Grandfather had a voice that was absolutely arresting. As a child, often, I would hide inside their house, my ear pressed against the wall, listening, while he talked with some adult. I had no real reason to hide there, except for the fact that I wanted nothing to disturb the resonance of his voice -- not even my presence.
His voice was incredibly deep, and although he had lived in California for years, he retained his southern way of speaking slowly, each word spoken with deliberate accuracy. Each word sounded like it was spoken from inside a deep cavern. I have tried to tell my children what it sounded like, but it was far beyond description. The closest I came to describing it was to tell them to imagine the deepest human voice they had ever heard, then imagine what that voice would sound like, if they capped their hands over their ears.
Grandfather was probably the most intelligent person I have ever known in all my life. He did not attend college, yet he knew more about the world, and about so many things, more than I can ever imagine knowing. He had set himself to learn, and he was a voracious reader.
Grandfather was well over six feet tall, and Grandmother wasn't quite 5 feet tall. Grandfather seemed to be always smiling, and Grandmother was loving but very serious. Grandfather would lope when he walked alone, and he could be across his back yard before I could have hardly started. But when Grandfather walked with me, he never seemed to be waiting for me, yet he paced himself with my footsteps. Grandmother took quick, short steps that could keep pace effortlessly with my longer ones. What a pair they were!
I wrote the following in the early to mid 1990s.
I had a wonderful opportunity to know Father's parents. I especially loved Grandfather, a tall, muscular man who was so gentle toward me. He strongly impressed me with his kindness and intelligence, even more so when I became a woman.
The following is titled "A Visit to Grandfather's Garage." It truly was Grandfather's garage, but Grandmother's touch could also be seen in it.
A Visit to Grandfather's Garage
An ancient car with rounded fenders
sits undisturbed, immaculate,
surrounded by painted shelves.
Ancient tools in careful order,
Mason jars of prism colors,
each in their labeled place.
For us, on the workbench,
a box of fresh walnuts,
two others of apples and pears.
They blend their fragrances.
From the door,
Grandfather laughs.
Grandfather had a voice that was absolutely arresting. As a child, often, I would hide inside their house, my ear pressed against the wall, listening, while he talked with some adult. I had no real reason to hide there, except for the fact that I wanted nothing to disturb the resonance of his voice -- not even my presence.
His voice was incredibly deep, and although he had lived in California for years, he retained his southern way of speaking slowly, each word spoken with deliberate accuracy. Each word sounded like it was spoken from inside a deep cavern. I have tried to tell my children what it sounded like, but it was far beyond description. The closest I came to describing it was to tell them to imagine the deepest human voice they had ever heard, then imagine what that voice would sound like, if they capped their hands over their ears.
Grandfather was probably the most intelligent person I have ever known in all my life. He did not attend college, yet he knew more about the world, and about so many things, more than I can ever imagine knowing. He had set himself to learn, and he was a voracious reader.
Grandfather was well over six feet tall, and Grandmother wasn't quite 5 feet tall. Grandfather seemed to be always smiling, and Grandmother was loving but very serious. Grandfather would lope when he walked alone, and he could be across his back yard before I could have hardly started. But when Grandfather walked with me, he never seemed to be waiting for me, yet he paced himself with my footsteps. Grandmother took quick, short steps that could keep pace effortlessly with my longer ones. What a pair they were!
13 March 2010
We Heard It at Church!
You may add to this by selecting "Comments" below this post. Comments will be moved from there into the post.
Things we've heard in churches: sometimes funny, sometimes horrifying, sometimes pathetic:
Things we've heard in churches: sometimes funny, sometimes horrifying, sometimes pathetic:
- "We aren't supposed to do it the right way, we're supposed to do it Jesus' way!"
- (During sermons) "What Jesus was trying to say was . . . ."
- (During sermons) "What Jesus meant to say was . . . ."
- "Well, literally the Bible doesn't mean that..."
- "G-d helps those who help themselves. I don't know where it is, but I know it's scripture."
- I didn't hear this one myself, but I heard of it: "The Bible says cleanliness is next to godliness." "No, it doesn't, brother." "It doesn't? . . . Well, it oughta be in there."
Emergency Preparedness #2: Recipes
Not being able to sleep sends the brain into spins, so I am up again. Maybe a little of this will help me tire of too much thinking!
The following are some tried-and-true recipes sent from my friend's mother, who apparently uses some of them when there is no emergency, even though she and the daughter survived Katrina! She says she especially likes the laundry soap.
Toothpaste:
3 Tbsp. baking soda
1 Tbsp. Glycerin
Flavoring - to your own taste
Little water to stir
Salt (option- for a scrubbing agent)
Liquid soap:
1 bar of soap- grate it (any brand)
10 cups water- warmed on the stove to dissolve the grated soap in.
Laundry Detergent:
Borax
Arm & Hammer Washing Soda
1 bar Fels Naptha Soap
Grate the bar of soap. Put in a pot on the stove. Enough water to cover it.
Heat and stir until it melts. Pour it after it melts into 5 gallon bucket.
Add 1 cup Borax, 1 cup Arm & Hammer washing soda.
Fill it up with warm water- stir and it's ready to use.
Use 1/2 cup for medium load.
Dishwasher detergent:
1 cup salt,
1 cup Borax
CANNING:
Meat is canned on 10 lbs of pressure for 90 minutes.
You can pack the jars with raw or cooked, with or without bones.
1 lb of meat is 1 pint
2 lbs of meat is 1 quart
He also said that he uses in some of his meats a tsp of salt and a bullion cube (for flavor)
He did say that chicken, for example, doesn't need to have liquid added, it makes its own- so just pack it in there.
For acidic vegetables and peanuts put them in a water bath for 40 minutes.
Canning Butter: Melt the butter on a low boil, skim off the top stuff, pour into jar and place lid and rig on it, it will seal by itself.
The following are some tried-and-true recipes sent from my friend's mother, who apparently uses some of them when there is no emergency, even though she and the daughter survived Katrina! She says she especially likes the laundry soap.
Toothpaste:
3 Tbsp. baking soda
1 Tbsp. Glycerin
Flavoring - to your own taste
Little water to stir
Salt (option- for a scrubbing agent)
Liquid soap:
1 bar of soap- grate it (any brand)
10 cups water- warmed on the stove to dissolve the grated soap in.
Laundry Detergent:
Borax
Arm & Hammer Washing Soda
1 bar Fels Naptha Soap
Grate the bar of soap. Put in a pot on the stove. Enough water to cover it.
Heat and stir until it melts. Pour it after it melts into 5 gallon bucket.
Add 1 cup Borax, 1 cup Arm & Hammer washing soda.
Fill it up with warm water- stir and it's ready to use.
Use 1/2 cup for medium load.
Dishwasher detergent:
1 cup salt,
1 cup Borax
CANNING:
Meat is canned on 10 lbs of pressure for 90 minutes.
You can pack the jars with raw or cooked, with or without bones.
1 lb of meat is 1 pint
2 lbs of meat is 1 quart
He also said that he uses in some of his meats a tsp of salt and a bullion cube (for flavor)
He did say that chicken, for example, doesn't need to have liquid added, it makes its own- so just pack it in there.
For acidic vegetables and peanuts put them in a water bath for 40 minutes.
Canning Butter: Melt the butter on a low boil, skim off the top stuff, pour into jar and place lid and rig on it, it will seal by itself.
11 March 2010
Emergency Preparedness #1: Kits for Homes
Keep an eye on changes here -- additions, or whatever. I will be adding to this when I learn things. Emergency kits for vehicles will follow.
Being prepared, in case of a severe natural disaster, was brought up at my synagogue a few weeks ago. I mentioned this to my friend, and since then, she has been on me to make sure I have emergency kits.
We need small kits in every vehicles, we were told, and I believe we need one in our homes. Since my vehicle is in the shop for a week more, at least, I will look first at an emergency kit for the home.
We live on a major fault line. So far, so good, however! And I really hate planning or thinking about what I call "The What-ifs," but with all the disastrous earthquakes that are going on everywhere, and our constant prayers for the suffering of so many people, perhaps it would be prudent for me to start planning -- just in case.
13 non-food items for the home emergency kit, which must be stored on the ground floor in a place you think will be the easiest to access, should the house be damaged. This is what is suggested -- and get enough for a week, minimum:
13 for the food, utensils, and more, kept higher up in easily-accessible cabinets (in case of water damage). Don't just have these items scattered about you home in their usual places! Be specific about putting the emergency stuff in one place, but be sure to use and replace the foods constantly, in order to avoid allowing them to get beyond their use-dates:
For more information:
How Prepared Are YOU?
Your Storm Pantry
Government Site
Preparedness Pantry
MORE to follow: your vehicle kits, one per vehicle
Being prepared, in case of a severe natural disaster, was brought up at my synagogue a few weeks ago. I mentioned this to my friend, and since then, she has been on me to make sure I have emergency kits.
We need small kits in every vehicles, we were told, and I believe we need one in our homes. Since my vehicle is in the shop for a week more, at least, I will look first at an emergency kit for the home.
We live on a major fault line. So far, so good, however! And I really hate planning or thinking about what I call "The What-ifs," but with all the disastrous earthquakes that are going on everywhere, and our constant prayers for the suffering of so many people, perhaps it would be prudent for me to start planning -- just in case.
13 non-food items for the home emergency kit, which must be stored on the ground floor in a place you think will be the easiest to access, should the house be damaged. This is what is suggested -- and get enough for a week, minimum:
- Large sealed containers of bottled water -- minimum of 1 gallon per day per person -- and replace these every year, minimally
- Water filters
- Liquid antibacterial DISH soap (can be used for hands and pans)
- A grill and some bags of self-lighting charcoal for outdoor cooking only stored in a dry place
- Beside #2, also keep filled canisters of propane with a propane-burning stove (unlike charcoal, these can be used inside, with ventilation)
- For heat, keep a heater that can be used indoors, with fuel (remember that a fireplace may not be safe after an earthquake or storm, because it could have been damaged)
- Have some blankets stored in a dry place -- a vacuum bag is good
- A tent, ready to unfold and use.
- Per person: at least one face cloth, hand towel, and bath towel
- Toilet paper
- Paper towels
- Proof of your banking accounts
- MONEY -- your credit and debit cards may not work
13 for the food, utensils, and more, kept higher up in easily-accessible cabinets (in case of water damage). Don't just have these items scattered about you home in their usual places! Be specific about putting the emergency stuff in one place, but be sure to use and replace the foods constantly, in order to avoid allowing them to get beyond their use-dates:
- A well-stocked first aid kit
- A hand-crank can opener
- Flashlights, at least one per person, some of which are the crank-type
- Battery-run and.or crank-type radio
- Batteries (remember to keep these fresh also!)
- Dust masks
- Hand sanitizer and a couple canisters of hand-wipes (like Wet Ones)
- Sturdy paper plates and cups, which not only eliminate the need for more water, but they can also help start a fire (watch out for plastic stuff that looks like it's paper!)
- I prefer real eating utensils to the plastic ones that break, along with a couple charp knives
- Packaged meals, like those packaged noodley thingies, or MREs
- Canned meats (like tuna, chicken), canned vegetables, canned chili, and canned soups -- but remember that when the electricity goes off, you will have meats in the freezer you will need to use up immediately and to share with others
- Canned fruit, and be sure some are citrus, including juice
- Breakfast bars and any other ready-to-eat meal replacements you can find
- A place to meet and a way to communicate is paramount. Start thinking about it and come up with a plan for yours.
- For youself and your babies and/or children: Clothes, night clothes, diapers, sleeping bags, etc.
- We have no pets, but if you do, you need to be prepared for them, too.
- If your home becomes uninhabitable, you need to know where the local shelters are, if you choose to use them, but remember that if your home is that damaged, others' homes will be also
For more information:
How Prepared Are YOU?
Your Storm Pantry
Government Site
Preparedness Pantry
MORE to follow: your vehicle kits, one per vehicle
08 March 2010
Procrastination
I am a procrastinator. I can find so many ways to procrastinate about so many things, and every time, it makes perfect sense.
Years ago, around the year 1980, I realized that this was a personal trait, and laughing about it, I learned that there was actually an organization for procrastinators: Procrastinators Club of America. I contacted them, and they sent me the material for becoming an official member, but I put it off until a more convenient time. When we moved from Minnesota back to California in 1983, I remember finding the information while packing. I remember packing it and taking it. Unpacking in California, I found it again, but put it in a good place, waiting for a more convenient time to join. Here it is, 2010, and I still haven't joined.
I know, I know. My friends are asking, "Why would she want to join? What a downer! Wouldn't joining be an admission that solidifies her in that rut?"
No! It's humor, people! H-u-m-o-r! For fun! To be able to proudly say, with a raised chin and an arched eyebrow, "I am a member of the Procrastinators Club of America. Make way -- and do obeisance."
I did, however, buy a calendar to help me -- a procrastinator's calendar! It has trite sayings, advice, and a "to-do (or not)" list. The problem? It is a 2006 calendar, purchased, I remember, in later 2006. I wrote my name on it and never used it. (I just never got around to it.) Furthermore, I won't be able to use it until 2017 -- the next year with 365 days that starts on a Sunday -- although the holidays that year will not match the calendar.
Apparently, the Procrastinators Club of America no longer exists as it once did, but there are sites where one can join -- like on Facebook. I think I will -- not now, but at a more convenient time.
For questions about calendars and time, the sun and moon phases, sunset and sunrise in your area, eclipses, daylight savings time, etc., check this site.
Here's an interesting procrastinators' factoid.
Years ago, around the year 1980, I realized that this was a personal trait, and laughing about it, I learned that there was actually an organization for procrastinators: Procrastinators Club of America. I contacted them, and they sent me the material for becoming an official member, but I put it off until a more convenient time. When we moved from Minnesota back to California in 1983, I remember finding the information while packing. I remember packing it and taking it. Unpacking in California, I found it again, but put it in a good place, waiting for a more convenient time to join. Here it is, 2010, and I still haven't joined.
I know, I know. My friends are asking, "Why would she want to join? What a downer! Wouldn't joining be an admission that solidifies her in that rut?"
No! It's humor, people! H-u-m-o-r! For fun! To be able to proudly say, with a raised chin and an arched eyebrow, "I am a member of the Procrastinators Club of America. Make way -- and do obeisance."
I did, however, buy a calendar to help me -- a procrastinator's calendar! It has trite sayings, advice, and a "to-do (or not)" list. The problem? It is a 2006 calendar, purchased, I remember, in later 2006. I wrote my name on it and never used it. (I just never got around to it.) Furthermore, I won't be able to use it until 2017 -- the next year with 365 days that starts on a Sunday -- although the holidays that year will not match the calendar.
Apparently, the Procrastinators Club of America no longer exists as it once did, but there are sites where one can join -- like on Facebook. I think I will -- not now, but at a more convenient time.
For questions about calendars and time, the sun and moon phases, sunset and sunrise in your area, eclipses, daylight savings time, etc., check this site.
Here's an interesting procrastinators' factoid.
05 March 2010
You are invited to add your own good, clean humor to this post by commenting.
How many __________________ does it take to change a light bulb?
. . . . . . . . . . . . (organized religion name)
I will start.
How many Messianics does it take to change a light bulb?
Three to make sure light bulbs are not against Torah observance, and three to hold the light bulb while the first one checks to make sure the bulb-type is according to Torah. But they are not putting it in, because H and A usually do it and they are more talented at doing it: anyone else would just mess everything up.
How many Messianics does it take to change a light bulb?
First, somebody go make sure it is really out. I know it's really dark in that room, but you never know. . . .
How many Messianics does it take to change a light bulb?
Well, you know that saying: Three Messianics, four opinions.
How many Lutherans does it take to change a light bulb?
One or two, but be sure you serve "hot dish" and "Watergate Salad" afterward, or they won't come.
How many Baptists does it take to change a light bulb?
Who knows, but don't expect them to move two feet at the same time while doing it, for fear of being accused of dancing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . (organized religion name)
I will start.
How many Messianics does it take to change a light bulb?
Three to make sure light bulbs are not against Torah observance, and three to hold the light bulb while the first one checks to make sure the bulb-type is according to Torah. But they are not putting it in, because H and A usually do it and they are more talented at doing it: anyone else would just mess everything up.
How many Messianics does it take to change a light bulb?
First, somebody go make sure it is really out. I know it's really dark in that room, but you never know. . . .
How many Messianics does it take to change a light bulb?
Well, you know that saying: Three Messianics, four opinions.
How many Lutherans does it take to change a light bulb?
One or two, but be sure you serve "hot dish" and "Watergate Salad" afterward, or they won't come.
How many Baptists does it take to change a light bulb?
Who knows, but don't expect them to move two feet at the same time while doing it, for fear of being accused of dancing.
My Hamentashen
Taken from my other blog . . . .
Cookie Dough
1.4 oz cream cheese, room temperature
2.1/2 cup butter, room temperature
3.2 TBS agave (or 1 TBs sugar)
4.1 cup all-purpose flour plus 2 tsp if using agave
5.1 egg white
6.1 TBS water
7.4 tsp coarse-ground white or raw sugar
8.butter
Filling
a. 8 oz chopped dates
b. 1/2 cup water
c. 1 tsp fresh orange zest (I usually use more)
d. 1/2 tsp real vanilla
e. 1/4 cup chopped pecans (I usually use more)
Beat 1 - 4 with an electric mixer until fluffy.
On low speed, beat in the flour.
Drop half of the dough in a lightly-floured 1-gallon zip-lock bag and the other half in another.
Flatten them into a nice, smooth rectangles, about 1/4-inch thick.
Put them on a flat surface in the refrigerator for at least an hour (or more but not more than a day).
In a saucepan, place a & b, bringing them to a good boil. Reduce to low and cook, stirring constantly, until it is thick. Cool about 10 minutes, then stir in c - d. Let this cool to room temperature.
Heat the oven to 325°F. Butter your cookie pan.
Open the first plastic bag, then cut two sides to fully expose the flat dough. cut in 3x3 squares. Place the squares on the buttered cookie pan. Spoon some filling into the middle of each square, then bring the corners of each square up, like an envelope, partially overlapping in the centers. Dip your fingers in the water and use them to seal the centers. Complete all the cookies.
In a small bowl, beat 5 & 6. Brush this on each cookie. Sprinkle with 7.
Bake 13 - 15 minutes, until the start turning a golden-brown. Cool a couple minutes then place on a cooling rack for about 20 minutes.
Cookie Dough
1.4 oz cream cheese, room temperature
2.1/2 cup butter, room temperature
3.2 TBS agave (or 1 TBs sugar)
4.1 cup all-purpose flour plus 2 tsp if using agave
5.1 egg white
6.1 TBS water
7.4 tsp coarse-ground white or raw sugar
8.butter
Filling
a. 8 oz chopped dates
b. 1/2 cup water
c. 1 tsp fresh orange zest (I usually use more)
d. 1/2 tsp real vanilla
e. 1/4 cup chopped pecans (I usually use more)
Beat 1 - 4 with an electric mixer until fluffy.
On low speed, beat in the flour.
Drop half of the dough in a lightly-floured 1-gallon zip-lock bag and the other half in another.
Flatten them into a nice, smooth rectangles, about 1/4-inch thick.
Put them on a flat surface in the refrigerator for at least an hour (or more but not more than a day).
In a saucepan, place a & b, bringing them to a good boil. Reduce to low and cook, stirring constantly, until it is thick. Cool about 10 minutes, then stir in c - d. Let this cool to room temperature.
Heat the oven to 325°F. Butter your cookie pan.
Open the first plastic bag, then cut two sides to fully expose the flat dough. cut in 3x3 squares. Place the squares on the buttered cookie pan. Spoon some filling into the middle of each square, then bring the corners of each square up, like an envelope, partially overlapping in the centers. Dip your fingers in the water and use them to seal the centers. Complete all the cookies.
In a small bowl, beat 5 & 6. Brush this on each cookie. Sprinkle with 7.
Bake 13 - 15 minutes, until the start turning a golden-brown. Cool a couple minutes then place on a cooling rack for about 20 minutes.
"I am not a good cook!"
From March 1, 2010, taken from my other blog
I am not a good cook. If you had asked me when I was young -- like up to age 40 and younger -- I would have answered that I was a fairly good cook! I was gutsy in the kitchen, and nothing stymied me.
What happened? Perhaps it was the maturing of my taste buds. I don’t know, though – they don’t seem that mature.
But I used to cook interesting meals and meals that required a lot of (what I would now call) kitchen wizardry. Today, I hesitate at cooking anything someone other than my husband and I eat.
I really think it was the years of cooking on an electric range.
A pox upon electric cooking!
But when we bought this house, I insisted that I was going to have a gas stove, and I got it.
Immediately, my cooking improved!
Then the old doubts crept back in, and I noticed I was back to telling people, “I am a terrible cook. I’ll buy something and bring it.”
Lately, however, I am starting to think, once again, that maybe I can cook. I nearly made hamentashen for our celebration the gathering the other night, but I didn’t, and only brought M&Ms and a bowl of mixed nuts. Now, I regret that. It may not be Purim anymore, but I think I will make some hamentashen anyway. My way.
One of the reasons I haven't considered myself a good cook is because I never stick to the recipe. Ever. I look at it and tweak it some way – often in many ways. Now, it is not like me to admit this, but 95% of the time, what I cook turns out wonderfully! But I am going to admit here and now that it is that 5% of the time that mobilizes what I say about my cooking. There. I wrote it. I base my concept of my being a bad cook on the failures, which truly only happen about 5% of the time, if that often! That 5% propels me, causes my cookery self-criticism, triggers my feelings of ineptness in the kitchen.
Similarly, this is often how we measure ourselves when it comes to our walks with the L-rd. Now, I am writing about people who have been walking with Him for a few years and who have taken that walk seriously -- not about the game-players and those who hang on the edges – people who are truly serious about “walking the walk” and not just “talking the talk.” We so easily get our eyes off Him and onto ourselves and our imperfections.
That is not how He thinks. He says that His strength is made perfect in our weaknesses [2 Corinthians 12: 7-9] – in those times when we know we are not strong, so we lean hard upon Him. The trick, however, is recognizing our weaknesses, not ignoring them, and yet not letting them pull us into the doldrums, but handing the control over to Him, so that we let Him, not us, shine!
When we were talking at the restaurant the other day, when my son’s family, my husband, and I went out to eat, I mentioned one of the aspects of the transition from the old church to where I attend now. In the old church, I sang a lot of solos and occasionally in some groups. I sang in the home-town church, other churches, and at conventions. Further, there, we were measured by how we would not say no to any request to do some ministry for the church, no matter how much those duties took us away from our families and responsibilities.
When the subject of leaving that church ever came up, one of the hooks they would use to keep us there was, “You’ll never be ‘used’ in another church, as you are here.” They knew that this would play to the egos of those who were needy for such, and it worked.
When I left there, since I had been occasionally attending my new place of worship for several years, I knew that there was no such thing as soloists et al. And being a member there, it was a growing time for me to learn that I did not have to be “special.”
However, when my children left that church, they found, in their chosen places of worship, that they were absolutely begging for people to “step into the gap.” They soon had to learn how to say “no” in their churches, because there was a tendency to loose themselves in the ministries and to miss out on the important parts of being believers. They had to learn to take hold of the correct “percent” -- to be mobilized by the right percent.
In my new place of worship, no one seemed to be measuring me as in the old church, so I got to learn to measure myself by the reality of what really was – whether I needed to be “special” or could be a simple background support, whether or not I was growing, etc. -- to stand on my own two feet rather than leaning upon the supposition and suspicions of others.
Could I learn to operate with the correct percentage there? I have learned and am learning. I have been a member there since late December, 1999. Ten years. And it has been good. It has been a great part of my sanctification -- my separation -- unto G-d.
I am not a good cook. If you had asked me when I was young -- like up to age 40 and younger -- I would have answered that I was a fairly good cook! I was gutsy in the kitchen, and nothing stymied me.
What happened? Perhaps it was the maturing of my taste buds. I don’t know, though – they don’t seem that mature.
But I used to cook interesting meals and meals that required a lot of (what I would now call) kitchen wizardry. Today, I hesitate at cooking anything someone other than my husband and I eat.
I really think it was the years of cooking on an electric range.
A pox upon electric cooking!
But when we bought this house, I insisted that I was going to have a gas stove, and I got it.
Immediately, my cooking improved!
Then the old doubts crept back in, and I noticed I was back to telling people, “I am a terrible cook. I’ll buy something and bring it.”
Lately, however, I am starting to think, once again, that maybe I can cook. I nearly made hamentashen for our celebration the gathering the other night, but I didn’t, and only brought M&Ms and a bowl of mixed nuts. Now, I regret that. It may not be Purim anymore, but I think I will make some hamentashen anyway. My way.
One of the reasons I haven't considered myself a good cook is because I never stick to the recipe. Ever. I look at it and tweak it some way – often in many ways. Now, it is not like me to admit this, but 95% of the time, what I cook turns out wonderfully! But I am going to admit here and now that it is that 5% of the time that mobilizes what I say about my cooking. There. I wrote it. I base my concept of my being a bad cook on the failures, which truly only happen about 5% of the time, if that often! That 5% propels me, causes my cookery self-criticism, triggers my feelings of ineptness in the kitchen.
Similarly, this is often how we measure ourselves when it comes to our walks with the L-rd. Now, I am writing about people who have been walking with Him for a few years and who have taken that walk seriously -- not about the game-players and those who hang on the edges – people who are truly serious about “walking the walk” and not just “talking the talk.” We so easily get our eyes off Him and onto ourselves and our imperfections.
That is not how He thinks. He says that His strength is made perfect in our weaknesses [2 Corinthians 12: 7-9] – in those times when we know we are not strong, so we lean hard upon Him. The trick, however, is recognizing our weaknesses, not ignoring them, and yet not letting them pull us into the doldrums, but handing the control over to Him, so that we let Him, not us, shine!
When we were talking at the restaurant the other day, when my son’s family, my husband, and I went out to eat, I mentioned one of the aspects of the transition from the old church to where I attend now. In the old church, I sang a lot of solos and occasionally in some groups. I sang in the home-town church, other churches, and at conventions. Further, there, we were measured by how we would not say no to any request to do some ministry for the church, no matter how much those duties took us away from our families and responsibilities.
When the subject of leaving that church ever came up, one of the hooks they would use to keep us there was, “You’ll never be ‘used’ in another church, as you are here.” They knew that this would play to the egos of those who were needy for such, and it worked.
When I left there, since I had been occasionally attending my new place of worship for several years, I knew that there was no such thing as soloists et al. And being a member there, it was a growing time for me to learn that I did not have to be “special.”
However, when my children left that church, they found, in their chosen places of worship, that they were absolutely begging for people to “step into the gap.” They soon had to learn how to say “no” in their churches, because there was a tendency to loose themselves in the ministries and to miss out on the important parts of being believers. They had to learn to take hold of the correct “percent” -- to be mobilized by the right percent.
In my new place of worship, no one seemed to be measuring me as in the old church, so I got to learn to measure myself by the reality of what really was – whether I needed to be “special” or could be a simple background support, whether or not I was growing, etc. -- to stand on my own two feet rather than leaning upon the supposition and suspicions of others.
Could I learn to operate with the correct percentage there? I have learned and am learning. I have been a member there since late December, 1999. Ten years. And it has been good. It has been a great part of my sanctification -- my separation -- unto G-d.
A Victory
3 Feb, 2010, taken from my other blog . . . .
There were certain struggles in my childhood that continued late into my adulthood. One of the things that was difficult for me to learn was how to honor my parents. I had sought the answer to the questions long and hard, and the answer only came in early 2009. For the 39 years previous to then, I had asked so many people for answers, and many of them had given me the correct answers, but it was not until early that year that it "clicked," so when we went camping then, I had a fun and entertaining answer to prayer.
What was the best answer? It went something like this: Treat your parents with the honor so due them because they gave you life; and through that life, you know Yeshua; and through Yeshua, you have eternal life.
Usually, when we go camping, my husband treks, but I bring my Bibles and books, staying at the RV, studying all day long and well into the night.
That year, we had gone shopping, and I picked up a book about the lumber industry in the late 1800s and early 1900s. I had thought, "Father, his father, and my uncles are in photos all over the Internet from their days logging the redwoods and tall spruce, so maybe they are in the book!" I would have been delighted if they had been but they were not.
I was feeling creative one day and thought that I would love to write a song or some prose about the lumber industry as it was when Father was in it. Such thoughts were soon extinguished, because I wasn't in the industry myself, so what did I know? Still, I was in that creative mood! I wanted to write or draw something! The creative juices began to flow, and I ended up writing a song, with tune and all, about Mother and Father. An entertaining (to me, at least) little ditty was produced. And through it, G-d once again taught me something.
The 5th Word says, "Honor your father and mother." This little humorous song could have easily taken on tones that would not have honored them, but I wanted to be obedient. So while I was enjoying myself, G-d taught me more about what I can say that will still honor.
The song ended up being a test: a test to see if I could write a song about my parents that was fun and creative without demeaning them but honoring them throughout the whole song. It was also a test to see if I could be both honest and humorous, and I believe I passed the tests.
All family members become part of HaShem's plan within a believer's life, but He chooses so carefully our parents and siblings, whether or not these are birth-family members. These are the ones through whom our basic character is formed, and we will either retain those characteristics, good or bad, or release the "bad" to G-d so that His miracle of transformation can work for us.
Of us five siblings, my three older ones were all gone from our home by the first month of my 8th (or was it seventh?) year, leaving only one older sister and our parents. We soon moved 2000 miles from my home. Regardless, I carried with me indelible impressions of my older siblings:
B -- independent, ethical
M_1 -- loving, tenacious
W -- independent, a searcher
Unfortunately, there was little family contact, so I knew little of them as adults and learned to go on with life without them. Only after the last too-few years have we all come together by email and through a family forum, in order to form a relationship, with the absence of one sister.
So my childhood after age 8-1/2 was limited to a family consisting of my next-older sister, Father, and Mother. Limiting myself again to only two characteristics, my sister M_2 was gentle and curious about life.
Me? I was born independent and tenacious, but I certainly was not gentle -- the characteristic M_2 had and I so needed! She was also graceful and feminine, sweet and capable in all social situations, humorous and interested -- all characteristics I lacked within a short time after toddlerhood.
Certain life-situations came up early to which I reacted by building a hard, unholy shell about myself. I went into that shell and stayed there, serving only a shriveling me. I did not learn femininity or gentleness from Mary, even though I could have. My hard shell prevented that. Still lacking in those areas, I have learned that I must practice them and act as though I have them. I keep thinking that I will eventually develop what I practice having.
----------------------------------------
Something has (since the above writing) inexplicably occurred that has rushed me into learning some of the concepts.
Through the years from the age of 19, "skinny-as-a-rail" me started gaining weight -- lots of weight -- as I dealt (or refused to deal) with old issues. As G-d's healing of the old "stuff" has progressed, I have changed. Part of that change is that I was comfortable enough to start losing the weight. As of today, I have lost 52 (rats -- I gained back 1-1/2) pounds.
As a result, I had to give away almost all my clothes, and in doing that, I discovered three forgotten garment bags way in the back of my closet -- what I would call my "old skinny clothes," except for one thing: they are all a little too big. But the big deal is they look all right, and they are all dressy clothes -- every last one.
I wrote above, "I have learned that I must practice [better mannerisms] and act as though I have them. I keep thinking that I will eventually develop what I practice having." Well, rather than runnning about in jeans and casual shirts, finding all those clothes has forced into wearing dressy clothes most of the time.
I used to protest that I am not a "dressy person," but in my more honest moments, I would admit that I would love to dress in dressy, classic clothes. Finding the clothes, and having only them, I am enjoying it! Further, I all my new clothes are also dressy. And I've found that deep inside, I really am somewhat feminine! Further, wearing them is a reminder of the gentleness that ought to (in my mind) go with such clothing.
Psalm 120
(Sang/played by Levite singers. One of each psalm would
be sang/played on each of the fifteen steps from the lower
courtyard to the upper courtyard of the Temple.)
A
song of
ascents To
ascents To
HaShem
In my distress I cried and He answered
me. HaShem, rescue my soul from lying lips, from
a deceitful tongue. What can He give you to restrain you,
and what can He add to you, deceitful tongue? You are like
sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of rotem wood. Woe
unto me, for my drawn-out sojourn; I dwell with those who
inhabit the tents of Kedar (the Arab empire of Ishmael).
Long has my soul dwelt with those who hate peace.
I am peace; but when I speak, (thinking
my desire for peace is weakness)
they are for war.
Being sick has its advantages. Sick last week, not wanting to leave my bed and yet having to go to work a few hours daily anyway, I would come back home, crawl into bed, and study my days away. Thinking I was well Sunday, I was disappointed when my temperature climbed again, cancelling my lunch out with my children and their families.
Back to bed, I continued studying and found myself struck by this Psalm, laughing at certain elements in it. The following is the result of the humor I had seen before, mentioning it on a Christian forum I had been on until recently. But this time, I had to put it in verse.
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How relevant. Coals of rotem.
Ignites ominously, lighting despite the
look: deplete - illusion! They burn.
Lethal. (Hazardous, Noble Book Press'
Artscroll asserts to the reader.)
Rotem - miscreant. Oh! deliver us!
Yes -- -- now and always!
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