When it would be particularly helpful to have a Gramps around

The list of things I love about my grandfather is far too long to be posted here. Seriously. Blogger.com would overload and shut down if I began to extol all of my grandfather's virtues. So today, I'll extol just one -- the man will eat, (and appreciate!) anything.
Once when I was in junior high, I decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies from scratch -- no recipe, no measuring cups, no guidance from Mom -- this was to be completely totally from scratch. I decided it was possible for me to do this because my mother does this all the time with quite a fair degree of success. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen her make a batch of cookies from a recipe, though I suppose it does happen at Easter, but even then only sort of. She never measures anything, always goes by sight and texture, and sometimes taste, but only before the eggs are added. Consequently, mom never makes the same thing twice, but since she's hardly a person for repetition, this is ok and all of us are learning, some of us more slowly than others, to appreciate it.
ANYWAY, I decided to make these cookies and decided to eyeball the baking soda part of the recipe. So I mixed up my ingredients and when it came time to add the soda, I probably added 2-3 tablespoons to a batch of a dozen and a half cookies.
When they emerged from the oven, they smelled wonderful and looked really quite good, though they were, of course, brown on the bottom. Their appearance was deceptive, to say the least. They were terrible! Baking soda is a lovely background flavor, but should never star in a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Never.
Despite the terror that was these cookies, for some reason I packaged them up and took them to my grandfather. Now, the thing to know about Gramps is that not only does he eat pretty much anything, but he also insists that he likes the burned parts of things ("a little brown," as he says) as well as other things considered inedible by others. I don't know if this has evolved as a coping mechanism (because while my grandmother is now THE BEST cook on the planet, she says it wasn't always that way because she truly HATED to cook when they first married) or if he truly likes the yucky stuff.
These cookies were no exception. My grandfather tried them, proclaimed them quite good and even when I tried to throw them out, insisted on saving them.
The reason I thought about all of this today was because I tried to make cookies from scratch again. These turned out really quite well, but they are a little too soft and fall apart a little too easily. Probably I needed to put more flour in them and although they taste very good, they have whole wheat, whole sugar, oatmeal, walnuts, chocolate and white chocolate chips in them and I know Dennis won't devour them like he would if they were just plain white flour, sugar and chocolate chips.
If Gramps were nearby though, I'd have them taken care of. I'd take some over to his house, present the crumbly parts as possible ice cream topping, and we'd be good to go.
Aside from all the other times it would be nice to spend time with him, this is when it would be particularly helpful to have a Gramps around.

Five years and counting

Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my ministry at First Christian Church, Rock Falls. When I came here, I thought I'd be here for five years and move on. I had it all planned out in my head how it would work -- how I'd leave here and go to a larger church, earn more money, get more recognition from the poobahs, etc, etc.
Five years, a husband, a daughter and a little nubbin later, I have no idea what's next. God has been good over the last five years despite me. So I am here and trying to do the work to which God is calling me both in the church and in my home. That seems like plenty to hold in my head and heart right now.

Recipe: In case of a bumper crop

Somehow, even though we didn't plant a garden this year, we have a bumper crop of zucchini, thanks to the generosity of my sister, Lil, and some church members. Today I was facing eight large zucchini on my countertop. And when I say large, I mean, slightly larger than the dog next door.
Anyway, here is a recipe for soup using zucchini. I have modified it because the original, while tasting delicious, had a texture that would have been great during the winter, but not so lovely now. However, this version is grand and supposedly freezes like a dream. So if you had a deep freezer, you could make this stuff for cold weather and you'd be golden.

Red Lentil, Zucchini and Couscous Soup
1 onion
1 stalk celery
olive oil for sauteeing
6 c. broth (I used chicken, but veggie would be great and beef is good in the winter)
1 c. red lentils
1 t. salt
1/2 t ground pepper
6 big leaves fresh basil
2 large zucchini, cut into bite-sized pieces
4 large carrots, cut in slightly smaller pieces than zucchini
2/3 c whole wheat couscous
1/2 c grated parmesan (optional)

Dice onion and celery and cook in olive oil til translucent.
Pour in broth and add lentils and seasonings. Allow to boil, then turn down heat and cover, allowing to cook at slow simmer for 15-20 minutes.
Add zucchini and carrots and couscous and continue to simmer for 10 minutes.
You may want to stir in the parmesan or add it to bowls or leave it out altogether.
This soup could also take a whole lot of other seasonings, so experiment and enjoy!

How things could have gone

Yesterday was not a great day for the McStews. However, even as I indulge in complaint, I should note that all of it could have been so much worse. And thus I'm extremely thankful.
On Sunday, while at my neice's birthday party, my tooth began a murderous rampage inside my mouth and I started to get a dull headache. Tylenol did not help tooth nor head and by the time we got home, my head was really sore.
During the night I had dreams that someone was hitting my head from side to side and I woke up with a headache that was pounding with each beat of my heart. It hurt so much I couldn't move without incredible pain. I woke Dennis up and had him take my blood pressure because I was preeclamptic with Annalivia and the pounding with my heartbeat really concerned me. My blood pressure was fine and glucose was fine, so I went back to bed, but the pain was terrible.
On Monday morning, I had an appointment with the oral surgeon about this tooth. The tooth was my back right wisdom tooth and it had a large hole on the side where a filling fell out long ago that was exposing the nerve. The doctor was worried about it breaking off, in which case it was likely that he'd have to cut the gum and since I'm pregnant, Tylenol or perhaps Tylenol with codeine, are the only pain relieving options. The doctor said he'd rather wait to pull it, but thankfully, my beloved OB intervened and said to get the darn thing out since it was probably the instigator of the headache.
So the doctor took out the tooth and as it was coming out, it broke off. I had been praying Psalm 30 "O, Lord, I cried out to you for help and you healed me" all morning. The doctor reached for the knife and then said, "Maybe I can tease it out" and grabbed another tool and the rest of the root of the tooth just popped right out. So -- no cutting. And I came home in less than an hour and laid on the couch while Annalivia played.
On his way home, Dennis got into an accident. It was sort of Dennis' fault since he tried to pass a guy who was turning left on the guy's right. Turned out the guy had the wrong turn signal on and he turned into Dennis instead. The guy didn't have insurance and since our car is driveable and technically Dennis was in the wrong, Dennis didn't get the guy's name either. The Capri is banged up, which the real shame, and Dennis was really ticked off at himself, but all of this leads me to...
HOW THINGS COULD HAVE GONE

• This headache could have been blood pressure related, which would have been REALLY bad this early in the pregnancy.
• The doctor could have decided to leave the tooth.
• The tooth could have broken differently and needed cutting.
• Annalivia could have been having a very different day that wouldn't have allowed for a sleeping mama.
• Dennis or another person could have been really seriously hurt.

Like I said, all in all, I'm thankful. Today is a hundred times better and I'm assuming tomorrow will be practically normal.

The birthday girl

On Sunday, we went to Eureka to celebrate my neice Cleya's 3rd birthday. I haven't been able to be at any of Cleya's other birthday parties, so I was really looking forward to it.
Cleya is so sweet and definitely her own little person. She was wearing a little party dress and also struggling with the excitement of it being her birthday and her tendency to be deeply wounded by little things. "I'm feeling really sad," was a frequent refrain, though for no reason obvious to grown-ups or anything that could be articulated by Cleya-bug.
All of it is so sweet to me. My memories of Cleya's mom, Lillia, was of this blithe little spirit who was completely and totally oblivious to anything other than her own joy. Of course, I was 9 at the time Lil was 3 and becoming painfully aware of my own angst, so perhaps all of that is just my memory.
Anyway, it was precious to see a little of this bliss as Cleya opened her presents and it was so sweet to see her get excited by each thing for about 3 seconds before looking for the next opportunity to unwrap something.
After presents, she spent a lot of time guarding her possessions from Annalivia. It was pretty hilarious. Most of the time Annalivia was oblivious to whatever it was Cleya had. She just wanted to be near Cleya. Annalivia would be playing with a balloon in front of Cleya's chair and Cleya would be curled up with her My Little Pony held up over her head just in case Annalivia lunged for it. As the eldest child, I relate strongly to this.
Cleya's getting a little sibling in 7 months. Now THAT will be fun to see.

A girl and her sistahs

When Annalivia was born, I immediately felt the urge to find her a little sister. I was sitting in the doctor's waiting room three weeks after she was born telling my mother that I was ready to have the next one and that I hoped it would be a little sister for Annalivia. (Again, the euphoria sustained me through my exhaustion.) Dennis and I talked even then about how it just seems as though our next little girl is just waiting to come into our family. It has never been as though it is a variable whether she will appear. The only variable is when she will appear.
This pregnancy, I am praying for a healthy baby, but I will also confess that I have prayed that this one will be the little sister for Annalivia. This may seem blasphemous to some and I know full-well that if this baby ends up being a little boy, we will look at him when he arrives and talk about how we can't imagine him being anyone else. And we will love him for who he is.
But, having said that, there is something about having three little sisters that leads me to hope for a sister for my daughter. From my sisters I have learned so much about patience, intelligence, forgiveness and healing, imagination, and of course, love. As we grow older, and I am able to see them more as individuals and less as an extension of myself, I find myself continually being taught how to be a better sibling, a better friend, and a better person.
There was a recent article in TIME the week before last about how siblings shape us that got me thinking about this more. It is kind of amazing to me that the idea that we are more shaped by siblings than by our parents and our spouses is a new idea. From the time we were incredibly young, my parents were telling us that the closest people to us would be our siblings. I remember vividly my mother explaining that the Marissa's DNA was a lot closer to mine than hers or Dad's. I remember the "conversation" Dad delivered as Marissa and I trudged up a hill at Governor Dodge State Park, wherein he explained that the relationships with our sisters were the most important we would ever have and that those relationships deserved more respect than we were giving them on that vacation.
And it's true. Every subsequent relationship I've developed has been judged by what I've experienced with my sisters. Can I laugh with this person? Am I comfortable with this person? Can we have intense intellectual discussion? Can we agree to disagree with minimal hostility? Are they appropriately insane?
I want Annalivia to have a barometer like this, but also to have someone who brings her more joy, more love, and yes, more frustration, than she ever will think possible and who, God willing, will accompany her through the various stages of life long after her father and I return Home.
So, though we will be more than happy to welcome a little guy into our family, we look forward to and pray for the day when Annalivia will lead her little sister through the peonies, whispering in her ear, and holding hands, playing games that neither Dennis nor I will fully understand.
Though my guess is that I'll understand at least a little.

I should mention for the benefit of any sistahs reading this blog that the fact that this photo is of Rissy and me is solely due to the fact that I do not have non-akward photos of the rest of us in this house. Sorry, Kali.

Having never been more tired in my life...

(which is really saying something considering that Annalivia didn't sleep through the night until, well, she doesn't now, actually) I haven't posted any of the things that have been rolling about in my head. I've been taking HUGE 3-4 hour naps with Annalivia and still going to bed before 10 each night. I don't remember feeling this tired at all with Annalivia. Perhaps the euphoria sustained me. Of course, I'd also had four years of decent sleep before I became pregnant with her...
Anyway, sorry to be a slacker. More coming soon, perhaps.

Self-indulgent? self-care

I've been turning over and over these thoughts again and again in my head over the last few weeks, but I'm not sure this is going to come out right...
I've been thinking about the desire for better self-care and wondering if it doesn't perhaps have a tendency to be self-indulgent in a way that is kingdom-irresponsible?
This last month I read again the book Living More with Less which was published by the Mennonite Central Committee several years after the acclaimed More with Less Cookbook. Doris Janzen Longacre authored both books and both are chock-full of information about living responsibly in the world with the resources God has given us. They are not fun to read. I feel my face burning and my gut sinking as I read about the excesses of modern life. I wear a scarlet letter from the first sentences.
Living More with Less reminds the reader that there are a hundred things that we can do every day to be more responsible stewards of our resources from reusing scrap paper and aluminum foil to switching to cloth grocery and lunch bags. There are also less benign suggestions in these books, such as giving up some protein because we have a disproportionately large amount of protein in our diets as first-world citizens or foregoing beauty luxuries because those things aren't available to other people throughout the world.
The idea that part of our role as Christians is to stand in solidarity with victims of injustice appeals to me on a very basic level. I just can't buy into the argument that we here in the first world have all that we have because God has ordained it to be so. It's pretty clear to me that the Bible commands us to worry about and act for justice. And since "justice" is such a laden word, I mean that it is pretty clear to me that God asks us to recognize that the world is not the way that He wants it to be and to work to change it. And the Mennonite assertion is that this begins with each of us and our own actions in how we relate to our families, friends, fellow believers and strangers. Justice is worked out in how I spend my money, drive my car, treat my kids, interact with store clerks, etc. Pretty smart, those Mennonites.
So -- here's my dilemma -- am I being a responsible citizen of the Kingdom in my pursuit for self-care? Is it a good use of my resources to spend money on extra virgin cocount oil or all-natural all-organic face cream? Or is it "worth it" to buy toothpaste without additives that costs twice or three times as much as others or multi-vitamins that cost more than our prescription medicines for a month or essential oils that head us into the hundreds of dollars?
I think, for us, the answer is no. Not right now. Spending the small amounts of expendible cash entirely on us, even if it is in the name of "better health," is not a good use of our resources. And frankly, until we are able to give the amount we wish we could to the places that work actively for justice in the world and still have extra left over every month, I think the answer will be, 'no'. And that's gonna be a while.
There are certain things for which we are going to continue to spend extra money. We're still buying organic milk, though now Annalivia is the only one drinking milk, and we'll continue to get farm eggs from Dennis' aunt because that's helpful to both our family and hers. We're going to continue our recent trend of eating more and more fresh veggies and fruits, but probably only while they are in season, at which time we'll revert to frozen veggies.
And I think we're going to cut back on some things. For example, we're going to be eating less meat (sorry, honey). We're probably not going to go overboard on supplements. The refined coconut oil is not cost-prohibitive and is really good for our skin and cooking, so I'll continue to use that. And I'll continue to take my coral calcium and folic acid while gestating and nursing, but organic/ all-natural shampoo and hair gel and makeup is not in my future, I think, when it costs such a great deal that could be spent elsewhere. Nor is coconut oil as a supplement or any more Perfect Green Foods, at least not during produce season. We're just going to have to do a better getting real nutrition from real foods.
And we're also going to do some things differently. Next summer our goal is to be in a position to house a large freezer someplace in our dwelling. We plan to plant a large garden and live mainly on veggies next summer and freeze away for the fall and winter months. We're also going to be cutting our own intake back a lot and focusing on basic nutrition: vegetables and fruit, carbs and protein in the purest and least expensive form I can find them, which probably means eating a lot of beans and rice in the fall. As you can tell from our photos, we consume way more than our allotted share of this world's resources. Really, that's the first place to start.
In the meantime, I'm going to pray for wisdom in readjusting my attitudes about providing for my family. I am an abundant person and tend to go way overboard with, well, pretty much everything. I like to have the best, though I'm realizing what is best depends on who is doing the judging. I particularly need help in re-evaluating how I see feeding my family. Lots of heavy food has indicated lots of good love to me in the past and I have a tendency to communicate my affection for my beloveds with ridiculously complicated, expensive and calorie-loaded dishes. Longacre's call in Living More with Less to adjust entertaining and hospitality to be more about companionship (and yes, I know the etymological foundations of that word) than cuisine is very much resonating with me.
And finally, though it probably won't make me any more friends, I think I'm going to remind folks very gently that there is a difference between self-care and self-indulgence. And focusing on self, self, self, often leads us down the path of self-destruction, even as we seek self-preservation.
Well, that's enough of my ramblings for now. Bet you're all glad I'm back from vaca, eh?

Napping made clear

Well, apparently the reason I napped all day was so I could be up all night with a toothache. It's now after 2 and I'm up for the nth time. Guess I'll call the oral surgeon tomorrow and beg for a bump on my appointment. Ugh.

Vacation from vacation

We came home early last night from Eureka and missed the finale of our July 4 celebration by skipping the fireworks at Eureka Lake. We were tired and I wasn't feeling really great and frankly, the thought of sleeping in our own beds was a stronger pull than seeing sparkly patriotic remembrances, so we headed north.
It was good to celebrate Mama's 60th birthday, good to spend time with the family, good to see the small town parade, good to have a break from being home.
But it's just really good to be home again.
This morning, Dennis woke up with Annalivia and I slept in til 10. Then we worked on cleaning up the back bedroom for friends to come visit on Friday. Then Annalivia and I laid down and we took a big 2 hour nap. Then we sent a slightly disgruntled bug who needed a change of scenery out to visit her grandmother who was suffering from not seeing her for a week and Dennis and I went to a movie and had dinner together to celebrate our anniversary a day late. All of which was lovely.
So today we've had a vacation from vacation. And tomorrow, since I'm technically off-work until Saturday, I'm going to spend the day working at home -- organizing and doing some long-overdue deep-cleaning and taking another nap, probably.
And since it's 9:00, I think I'll go to bed early tonight too. No use ruining the streak.

Possibilities

You are my one true love,
Today I come to you to be your wife.
All that I am and all that I have,
I will gladly share with you.
I promise to accept you for the person you have been,
love you for the person you are,
and help you to grow into the person God wants you to be.
These things I promise to you now,
and each day, for the rest of our lives. ~4 July 2003

He had no possibilities. His glasses were too thick. His speech too unrefined. His education too simple. His mother too needy.
He was unworthy, I thought. Expendible.
He knew differently.
Within 5 days I realized I could love him forever. Within 12 days I knew I would.
Now I think if there is one who is unworthy, it is not him. He is far more generous, more loving, more giving, more creative, more intelligent, more understanding, more industrious, more clever than I can ever hope to be.
With him there is passion and joy and security and desire and contentment and love and, and, and... deeper than I ever knew possible.
With him, there are possibilities I could never have imagined.
I know differently now, too. This man is exactly the one my heart yearned to love.
And for some crazy reason, he loves me, too.
I love you so much, my love. Happy anniversary.

River reverie

We've been enjoying hanging out with my dear friend, Annalivia's godfather, Jimmy, at the parsonage in Louisiana, MO. Lovely historic river town, grand homes, wonderful company, fine food, etc. We are enjoying sitting around in the sunshine with feet in kiddie pools, splashing around the marina kiddie pool, and taking lovely drives along the Mississippi. It is just lovely and our first real vacation since May of two years ago. We're long overdue and enjoying most every minute, so more interesting posts will be coming later!

A dubious fellow

I don't think I believe Enrique on PBS' Dragon Tales. One day he's from Colombia (should be said with a Columbian accent.) The next he's referencing murals in Puerto Rico. One day he's teaching Emmy and Max songs about hot chocolate in Espanol. The next he just so happens to know Ord's dragon painting song sung because it's supposedly sung by his abuelita.
I'm not falling for it. It seems to me that he's a too convenient, all-purpose Hispanic character. Has he ever even been to Colombia? How come he never references drug cartels or the overwhelming problems with poverty? And if he knows about hot chocolate how come says he's never seen snow?
It's all a little too convenient, if you ask me. I'm keeping my eye on that Enrique.

Doh

Ok, well, I owe some of you a rather extensive apology because I've not been languishing in post-dental-procedure pain this week. Turns out that my dentist won't extract teeth from a pregnant woman, though this pregnant woman didn't find that out til I was in the chair and sufficiently steeled to face major dental angst. Turns out that the dentist refers pregnant woman to an oral surgeon instead and that the oral surgeon is terribly busy and important and cannot possibly fit me in until mid-July which gives me plenty of time to steel myself for both dental and insurance co-pay angst.
So, the reason I've been observing the requested reprieve is five-fold, at least.

1. I'm punky
2. I'm really bloody tired
3. A toothache, insulin-induced hypoglycemia and progesterone cream have created a distinctly moody and quite unattractive version of me
   
4. I've been feeling quite sorry for myself
5. I've not really much to say other than *big sigh* "Poooooooor meeeee!" *swooning*

So again, many apologies for those of you who have actually been praying for me and my teeth i.e. Dawn. I so appreciate your concern. This is when I wish I had one of those little emoticons who blush. Doh.

Recipe: Favorite bread, soaked

The other day, Annalivia and I accompanied Dennis to the Quad Cities and while he was in class, we went to a hoighty-toighty grocery store in Iowa. I was so excited to see that this grocery store had a wheat mill to grind one's own flour! (The extra dollar tacked onto the price of everything in the store must cover the cost of the mill).
Anyway, I ground my own hard white winter wheat and came home to try it in bread. It's amazing how different fresh flour smells! That in and of itself should tell me something.
The end product of this recipe experiment, aided by the info Dawn posted about soaking bread on her site, prompted me to go get more fresh-ground flour yesterday. So, this recipe, which I used to make only at the holidays, has now had two trials in its soaked form and is wonderful, and has thus become everyday bread for us.

Honey Oatmeal Bread
2 cups buttermilk or yogurt
6 1/2 cups whole grain flour (I use 5 cups whole wheat and 1 1/2 spelt)
1 c. oats
Combine and allow to sit overnight.

The next day combine:
1/4 c water
1/4 c honey
1 T yeast
Allow to bubble

Mix in separate dish:
1/3 c melted butter
1/4 c honey
2 t salt

Add the yeast mix and the butter to the flour mix
Add:
2 eggs, slightly beaten

Mix it all up. Knead in another cup of flour (again, I use spelt) if necessary.
Allow to rise til double, then punch down and form into two loaves (if using loaf pans, grease/ butter well). Gently slash the tops and allow to rise til double again.
Combine 1 T water and egg white before baking and brush tops. Then sprinkle with oats. Or you can use butter and sprinkle with oats. Or leave it unsprinkled.
Bake at 375 for about 35 minutes. Remove from pans to cool. You can brush with oil again, if you like a softer crust.

Begging a reprieve

We had a wonderful resurrection celebration for the beloved church member who passed away this weekend, but at the risk of being way too whiny, it has been four days of really deeply emotional shepherding for me. And tomorrow I'm having teeth pulled, so I am going to extend my apologies now for frivolous or non-existent posts. I appreciate so much your comments and I promise I will emerge sometime this week, hopefully with clarity and some small insights to offer. Many blessings, friends!

Those "other" Christians

Once again, I have been reading about one part of the Body of Christ attacking another part of the Body for not being Christian enough. When I read such things, my stomach ties itself into knots and I feel such anger and frustration. Why do we insist on tearing each other down in order to feel better or more superior about our points of view?
In the last month I have read two brilliant ruminations on how to handle issues of disagreement within the Body of Christ. I don't have permission to reprint them here, but I'm going to do so anyway and beg for forgiveness later.
This first one is from Molly Aley, a brilliant theologian who wrote in a forum discussion dealing with a hot topic...

Scripturally, we aren't told to "be God," sure, and yet, in a sense, we ARE told to "be God..." in that we are told to be His manifestation to the world.
We are told that WE are the body of Christ--that WE are His expression in the earth now. The Body is what moves, the part that involves ACTION, the part that makes manifest whatever it is that the Head wants, right? And we're different members/parts of that Body, or so says Ephesians...
So it makes sense that some of us are going to see things differently...we are different parts of the body, called to different things and yet ALL of us called to obey the Head, whatever it is He tells us to do. Not all the parts will look the same, in other words, even though all might be obeying the Head.
When I walk, my hands do an entirely different thing than my feet do...yet both are expressing the wishes of my head. I'm glad my feet don't grump about how my hands aren't doing the right thing, simply becuase the hands aren't acting like feet!
This means we might not all look the same, even though we all might be obeying the Head! Some of us will be the arms embracing the sinner no matter WHAT, while others of us might be called of God to point out sin (SO THAT we can lead the person into the freedom of obeying God, not just for the sake of pointing out sin).
I think the key is being very in tune with the Spirit.
Because sometimes we're going to personally FEEL like ramming a ton of (deserved) judgement down a person's throat for whatever reason, and yet the Spirit is going to tell us to shut our mouths and to just love on them. He knows what they need and when they need it, so obeying Him is best, even if it's hard to hold in the rant, and hard to just lovingly bless them in kindness at that moment! HE KNOWS, and He knows exactly how those actions are going to impact them for the good.
... And other times, speaking up for righteousness is going to be the LAST thing we want to do, but the Spirit is going to tell us to open our mouths and share His truth, painful as it may be, unpopular as it may make us, difficult as it might sound. But the Spirit knows when a firm word is needed, knows that it is just what should be said at that very moment, and knows how to frame it just right. He knows that it is the best thing for that person's heart, right then, period. In which case, obeying Him by speaking the hard word is the most loving thing we can do for that person.
In other words, this is an area I personally walk very careful in, when it comes to judging the actions of fellow Christians and when it comes to making blanket statements myself.

Such wisdom!
Another incredibly gentle theologian, Ann V. discussed the conundrum of not knowing exactly what to think about these difficult topics on her blog, Holy Experience. As usual, her words are so eloquent and illustrative of the emotion that accompanies this wrestling we engage in. I'm editing her post for space, but please consider jumping over to her blog to read "Importance of Theology... and Childlike Faith."

I am troubled. Deeply so.... Reformed, Emergent, Post-modern, Evangelical, Calvinism, Arminianism, Catholic, Protestant. Authors with stamps of approval, pastors that pass muster, churches deemed orthodox, conservative, Biblical,godly…or not. Interpretations, translations from the original, concordances. Stances, positions, posturing. Sifting, sifting, sifting. Everyone so sure.
And I am sure too.
Certain of the Cross and Your saving Grace. Unwavering about Your Sovereignty. Confident of Your sacrificial love that saved me, a sinner.
But the rest, Lord, the secondary issues? I confess it in a wavering whisper:
I don’t know...
I am sure of You… but theology? All the Details of Doctrine in which I so easily find myself entangled?...
I want a clear understanding of You. And, seeing as everyone apparently has, intentionally or by default, a theology, is mine simply bad and muddled? I pray it is not so.
I don’t know about…well, You know all the things I don’t know about. And You know how everyone else seems so entirely certain, with flocks of disciples nodding in agreement, buoyed by the loud voices of assurance and confidence.
But what of humble voices?
Unassuming voices that can only whisper, “I do not know for certain, but I do know One who does know. For certain.” Perhaps there are less ears and hearts attuned to tentative voices. Little matter. It's about meekly following the One who is all-knowing. "And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." ~Micah 6:8
...I am like a child tentative about so much… but so sure of You.

Oh, if more of us would simply take time to think about the "other" as beloved of God. Oh, if more of us were willing to admit that we don't know, that we aren't sure. Oh, if more of us were willing to extend the grace to be unsure to other pilgrims on the way. Oh, oh, oh...
Thank you, Molly and Ann, for such amazingly heartfelt, transparent and inspiring confessions of understanding. You have reassured this grieving heart.

Recipe: Breakfast puff

This is a great and SUPER easy recipe for a wonderful breakfast treat. We have found it perfect for Sunday morning pre-church because it can be made the night before. It goes by different names -- Dutch Puff or Yorkshire Pudding are the most common.

Breakfast Puff
4 eggs
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour or spelt
1 cup milk, buttermilk or milk with 2 T yogurt (not more than a cup)1 T vanilla
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter

Add eggs, flour and milk to blender and blend. If you want to presoak grains, you can do this the night before and stick it in the refrigerator.
Before you cook it: Preheat oven to 425. Allow oven to get hot then stick a square baking dish in the oven and allow it to get hot, then melt the butter in the pan in the oven.
Pour the mix (whisk it first if you refrigerated) into the hot pan. Close up the oven and let it cook about 20-25 minutes.
The key to this dish is a very hot oven, a very hot pan, and very hot oil. As long as these three elements are in place, it will puff up into a beautiful souffle-like creation. If the oven isn't hot enough, it may just take a little longer to cook.
You can also mix things up by adding apples or peaches before pouring into the pan. Or you can take it into the savory realm by omitting the vanilla and adding sausage. It is wonderful with maple syrup and equally as grand with homemade berry syrup. This recipe serves four, but it can be easily doubled and cooked in a 9 x 13 pan. Delicious stuff.

Timeless lessons I've learned in the last 24 hours

I won't mention how I know these things...
1. Be careful when using the phrase, "Just let me know what I can do," when speaking to a frantic and harried CWF (Christian Women's Fellowship) chairperson coordinating a funeral dinner for 100.
2. Do not be surprised when said chairperson calls back to ask if ye can make potato salad for 100 people.
3. When married to an engineer, it may be best to ask him to slice fresh baked bread, lest ye end up with tapered slices that barely hold together on one end and are overly thick on the other.
4. When married to a husband who professes to be proficient at boiling eggs, allow said proficiency to be demonstrated rather than randomly deciding that said eggs have "probably boiled long enough", lest ye end up with soft-boiled eggs for aforementioned potato salad.
5. When attempting to make potato salad, bread, and pancakes at the same time, try focusing on one recipe at a time, lest ye end up with three times the amount of baking soda in said pancakes and one less egg than said pancakes require, thus requiring the flushing of said pancakes down the garbage disposal.

With all her toys...

With the vast array of toys available to her, Annalivia would still much rather play with a dishtowel, a pillow, and a can of tomato paste. Throw in a magazine she can rip up, and some books she can look at, and that is one happy little Bug.

Soaking stuff

Since I figured out that I'm not a big fan of sourdough for anything but toast slathered in butter or french toast slathered in syrup, I've been trying to figure out how to soak grains for bread and also use yeast. But I wonder, according to HRH Sally Fallon, quick rise yeast insults (I think that was the word she used) our grains by forcing them into an unnatural process of rising too fast. So what do you do if you just really love the taste of homemade yeast bread? Hmmm?
Well, I'm bound and determined to figure it out, so I'll let you know if I do. Or someone else who has already wrestled with this could just let me know... hint, hint, Dawn...
In the meantime, here is our family's favorite pancake recipe -- nutty, delicious, soaked and actually good for you. I always triple it and freeze any extras, though they don't ever stay frozen for long!

Whole Wheat Pancakes a la McStew
3/4-1 c. whole wheat flour
1/4 c. wheat germ, ground flaxseeds, linseed, etc.
1 1/4 c. buttermilk
1/2 t. salt
1 t. baking soda
1 T. rapadura, sucanat or brown sugar
1 T vanilla
1 T oil (I use olive or sometimes coconut)
1 egg beaten

Mix whole wheat flour, and wheat germ, if using with buttermilk. Cover loosely and let sit for up to 24 hours.
Sprinkle remaining dry ingredients over the wheat mix and mix with wire whisk. Mix wet ingredients in separate bowl and combine with flour/ buttermilk/dry ingredient mix. Mix with wire whisk til just combined.
Cook on hot griddle. Makes 8 pancakes at approx. 113 cal/pancake 2 g fiber/pancake.

Sending another one home

A beloved church member passed away during the night. She had struggled with a battle against diabetes for years and had lost her mobility, her dignity, even a leg in the course of events. Last night she died peacefully in her sleep.
I had called yesterday to see how she was doing and asked if I could come see her this afternoon. I just had NO idea that she had gotten so bad.
I feel like I failed this family. I should have gone to see her yesterday. I just didn't understand.
Then this morning, I didn't get their call at 7 to tell me she had passed. I called them back when we got up at 7:30, which is a full two hours later than we've been getting up lately. They declined to have me come over and be with them.
I feel terrible, and though I need to apologize, I don't want this family to feel like they need to minister to my regret before I'll minister to their grief. Ugh.
This woman was such a dear person and also such a difficult person sometimes (like all of us, right?). She was so loving towards everyone and also terrified that they didn't love her enough. She always believed the best in people and also saw and wrestled with the worst. She had a faith that was strong one moment and non-existent the next. But, my goodness, did I ever love her. And I'll miss her greatly.
And at the same time, I know she is Home now and she is not in pain. She is no longer bound by a sick body. Her favorite hymn was He Touched Me and I know she is saying, "Something happened and now I know, he touched me and made me whole."
Much love always, Barb.

Oh what a beautiful mornin'

It is a gorgeous morning here in northern Illinois. It is actually cool outside -- 58 degrees right now. Annalivia is reading to herself Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do You See. I've yet to get dressed and feel as though this would be a perfect day for a great cup of Lil's fresh-ground coffee, but I think I'll go for some ice water instead. The birds are singing and the sun is filtering through the trees in the backyard catching the sparkles of the dew on the ground. It's just a lovely mornin' and a great day to be alive.

Submission for 21st century sinners

This last Sunday's sermon question was "Why does the Bible tell women to submit to their husbands?" I added... "And husbands to submit to Christ?" because, truthfully, I think these two acts of submission need to happen concurrently.
The sermon went well, but afterwards a middle aged guy came up to me and jokingly said, "Well, I sure heard a lot about husbands submitting to Christ, but not a lot about the women submitting to the husbands!" He said this in a hot kitchen that was full of women who were making him breakfast, so he skedaddled pretty fast!
Later an older woman said, "I wish you would have spent more time on how husbands should submit to Christ instead of spending so much time on women submitting to husbands!" She wasn't joking.
I think submission is just one of those things that we'd rather apply to other people, but the truth is -- any relationship requires submission. Whether husband and wife, parent and child, friend and friend, we have to be willing to carve out a space within ourselves to allow that person to inhabit. And any good relationship will have both parties respecting that space that is created with love, trust and kindness.
I think the idea of submitting is so hard for women my age because we've been told that not only should we have it all -- children, husband, career outside the home, friends, volunteer work, church AND a size 8 figure, to boot -- but if we DON'T "have it all" we are some sort of massive failure. Whatever it is that we think WE'VE created, we want to hold onto with all of our strength!
The thought of willingly giving up part of ourselves to let another live there is indeed counter to almost every message we receive from the world, and to a great extent, from the church (shame on us!). Pick up any women's magazine or parenting magazine, and you'll find abundant advice on how to pamper yourself, indulge yourself, treat yourself, take time for yourself... It is a good thing to take care of ourselves, but for goodness' sake, what if we took the time we wanted to spend indulging and devoted just a tenth of it to doing something totally unexpected and kind for our husbands or children? I bet we'd feel a lot better about ourselves.
It's not easy to give up part of ourselves, but this is the essence of our calling as Christians. "Take up your cross and follow" implies making a big ol' place for Jesus in our lives. And, well, he already made such an enormous place in HIS life for US that he was willing to give up his life!
Ephesians 5 begins with Paul telling the church at Ephesus what they should do to be imitators of Jesus. He addresses the temptations of the flesh and the temptations of the spirit and then tells us how to imitate Christ in our households and in the human relationships that are most important to us.

What I think is challenging for me as a woman, is realizing that my husbands' spiritual giftedness, while not the same as mine, is absolutely essential for our family. It's essential for me. I want it. I need it. And I think our family functions better when I allow him the space to lead spiritually when he wants.
I was listening to Family Life Today the other day -- it's not a program I listen to very often -- and an evangelist named RV Brown was on the program. You can listen to his interview here. It was wonderful! He has written a book called Step Up to the Plate, Dad. He talked about the ducks-in-a-row effect, as he calls it; if a family has a mama getting up and getting her children to church, praying with them, and teaching them about Jesus, it is possible that family will be Christian. But the MOMENT that the father gets on board, that the father takes ownership of his responsibility to submit to Christ and lead the family with the kind of love that he himself desires, that family's chances of succeeding in discipleship are astronomically higher.
In the mainline church church, where I was born and bred and where I serve and believe I belong, the concept of submission is SO hard for us both male and female. Submission is about giving up power, about letting God be God in the world, in our church and in our families. And if there's one thing that makes mainliners squirm, it's talking about the power of God.
But submission is something that we need to talk about and reclaim. It must be said-- it is true that many women were long denied the love and respect that Paul reminds men to give their wives. And if a person is abusing another person and doing everything BUT imitating Christ, they've lost the privilege of being submitted to. The church needs to insist that men and women find relationships wherein they are loved and valued and defend those who are not.
But sometimes I think the pendulum has, in general, over-corrected, and in being empowered to live as full people in God's love, I believe we women took some power that belongs to men away from them. And, let's be honest -- I think some men abdicated that power willingly in favor of less responsibility. I was reminded of Psalm 127 when I was thinking about how to build a family, a household that is more than just nominally Christian, "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it."
It's time to delve back into these scriptures that teach us how to imitate Christ. I hope we can come to a point where we see women and men for their unique giftedness in Christ instead of insisting on their same giftedness.
It is my prayer that I will continue to submit, even though it is incredibly hard and counter-intuitional for me to do so. I pray I will continue to turn myself, my marriage, my family, and my calling over to the ways of God.

Two sides of the same coin

We had a lovely Father's Day here, mainly heightened by the discovery that Littler McStew will be joining the family in Feb. 20. I had actually gone to see my ob/gyn on Thursday to see about medicine for getting pregnant. God is pretty amazing.

We are now experience that crazy mix of elation and fear that accompanies such a wonderful occurence. Annalivia is at the age when correction is an semi-hourly occurence. She'll be two when number two arrives, or shortly thereafter. Will we be able to communicate to her that the necessary discipline she will receive is not because of the new little? Will we be able to communicate our love for both children? Will we be able to communicate our love for each other while taking care of two littles? I know the only answer is "grace of God (and the creek don't rise)", but I still think of all these questions.

Anyway, we're in good company. Sister Lil and bro-in-law Jake will welcome #2 in January. Good friends from Kansas will welcome a surprise #3 at the same time. Who knows who else will join the ranks? It's good to be alive.

Here's our Father's Day pic 2006. Keen eyes will notice our color coord- ination (i.e. the trim on Annalivia's dress matches the stripe in daddy's shirt and mama's dress ;) ). Once again, in our family pictures Dennis looks wonderful, Annalivia looks suspicious and me and my chins are trying to muscle everyone else out of the pic. Oh well. This is who we are...

Excessive use of jazz hands

I saw a hilarious commercial tonight on mute, so I don't really know what it was about, except that it involved a lots and lots and lots (read: "prodigious use") of jazz-hands. I think it was for some new chocolate bar; all I can say is that the office portrayed therein is exactly the kind of place I'd like to work.

Small triumphs in the quest for health

I've experienced several small triumphs in the ongoing quest for health here at Casa McStew which I feel like I should share here, because... uh.... where else would I share them?

1. We bought a reverse osmosis system! Hurrah! It's not actually installed yet, but we got the system from Menards for less than $140 and it looks like it is actually really good. Not as great as Culligan, but we have college debt to repay, so...
2. I managed to make sourdough bread. I managed to make a sourdough starter, first of all. Then I managed to make five loaves of sourdough bread. Then I managed to remember that I'm not a big fan of sourdough bread. Actually Dora Sue Davis of Lancaster, Kentucky makes THE best bread in the world and it happens to be sourdough. Back when I was a seminarian she offered me some starter and foolishly, I denied her. Now I'm half tempted to make the 12 hour trip just to get the starter. But she's coming to her neice's wedding in August in Eureka, so I think I'll just ask her to bring me some. It's appropriate to ask such a favor after completely losing contact with someone for five years, right? Thought so.
3. The progesterone cream I've been using is helping with a number of issues, none of which anyone here would like to read, but which some of you can infer because you're regular beneficiaries of my abundant TMI policy.
4. I think this liquid kelp is working on me, too. Of course, I'm up to 12 drops a day and my BBT is still 97.2, but I feel better, I think. I think.
5. I finally found a natural deodorant that works! Yep, after trying 8 different kinds, I have finally found it and the best/ worst part -- it was 40% off in a closeout at our health food store, so now instead of costing 3 times as much as Degree, it's only twice as much. I'm going back to buy up all the rest (Aubrey Organics E plus high C, fyi -- I should have known from the music-nerd tie-in that this would be the one.)
6. I told my doctor about self-medicating with progesterone and liquid kelp and she was fine with it. I love my doctor. Adore her. And I feel better having confessed to her and having her approve. I need to work on my need for approval, but in the meantime, I feel good about not deceiving Dr. Stone.
7. I brought back my Living More with Less book from the office and ordered a More with Less Cookbook from eBay and am feeling very positive about the direction we've been moving. We're inching -- or perhaps more accurately, centimeter-ing, our way towards being more responsible citizens of the Kingdom.

Yeah, things are going well. I continue to pray for stamina and patience. For me, these things go hand in hand. But we are better -- I feel it! And that's a darn good thing.

Recipe: Pink and brown look good on us

I made a really good supper tonight, stolen, sort of, from Daisy Martines of Daisy Cooks! on PBS. I say, sort of, because I was half-watching the show the other day and half-listening to this recipe and I was fully inspired. However, I couldn't find the recipe online at all, so I'm half-claiming this as my own ingenuity. It's deliciously flavorfull, full to the brim of fiber and incredibly, incredibly low on fat, which is not a bad thing. Best of all, it can be made in stages and though it takes a long time cumulatively, it is really easy.

Pink Beans and Brown Rice

1 lb dry pink beans (or you could use red)

6 cups filtered water

2-4 cups sofrito (recipe follows, if needed)

olive oil

1-3 T salt

lots of green olives (I used one medium jar)

2 1/2 cups brown rice

stock of your choice (at least 1 quart)

First, cook the beans using your chosen method. I let them soak in 6 cups water overnight, pour off said water, and put the beans and six cups new water in the crockpot on high for 1 hour and then on low the rest of the day. When beans are done, don't drain. If you use canned beans, crazy fool, go ahead and rinse off the beans.

Heat olive oil -- as much or little as you want -- in a large, heavy pot on medium heat. Pour sofrito into hot oil. Add the green olives and pour in some of the olive brine. Mmmm. Cook it up in the oil til you can't stand it and just want to jump in and swim in all those wonderful fragrances. If you are going to use and unsalted stock, add quite a bit of the salt. If you are using a salted stock, add less.

Then, pour in beans and bean liquid and add 2 1/2 cups rice. Then (and this is Daisy's trick) take a wooden spoon and put the end of it into the liquid just touching the rice. Take it out and hold up your fingers to the liquid line. You need two fingers worth of liquid over the level of the rice. Add stock to make up the difference.

Let this lovely mixture boil, stirring occasionally, until the liquid reaches the level of the rice/ bean mix, then cover it and reduce the heat. Let the liquid absorb at a low simmer. When you uncover, it will be deliciously wonderful. Even husbands who swear they don't like "ethnic" food yet have been strangely receptive to falafel, groundnut stew and tabbouleh lately, love it.

This makes a whole heck of a lot of rice and beans, fyi, which is great for large families... or small families who will now have to search out unsuspecting family and/ or church members to hoist leftovers upon them...

Sofrito

1 large tomato

1-2 large onions

6-8-20 garlic cloves (less if you're crazy and dislike garlic)

1/2 green pepper

1 red pepper

1 cubanelle pepper or banana pepper

1 bunch cilantro

In a food processor, place tomato, garlic, onion, peppers, cilantro. You may want to cube everything into similar sized pieces. Whirl away til it is a lovely fragrant mush. Use in any or all latin dishes. (It freezes well, too!)

The best sound in the world

Annalivia is lying on the floor with her daddy laughing hysterically as he makes her stuffed kitty cat meow at her.

Is there any better sound than the loves of your life laughing with abandon? I don't think so.

The what and why of the Trinity

Some of you already know that my big stepping-out-in-faith venture for the summer is to preach a series of sermons based on questions asked by members of my congregation. I told folks they could ask pretty much anything, but I reserved the right to clarify, re-word, or divide questions as necessary.

Well, the first of these sermons was last week on the Trinity. It happened to be Trinity Sunday for the liturgical churches throughout the world, so the questions, "What is the Trinity? And why is it important for Christians?" were timely.

I have read that it is an old joke that on Trinity Sunday, the minister stands up and preaches a sermon that neither the minister nor the congregation understand. I have to admit, I felt a little like this was going to be the situation for us, also.

The thing is -- the Trinity is on one hand incredibly easy to explain and on the other hand, incredibly difficult to explain. It is both simple to understand and deeply complex and complicated.

At its base, the doctrine of the Trinity is pretty simple.

1. God exists as three eternal persons: Father, Son, Holy Spirit.
2. Each person is fully God
3. There is one God

Of course, trinity is not found in the Bible, though, as Christians, we believe it is clear that the three separate persons of God are mentioned even from the earliest scriptures in the Old Testament. The ruach (breath, wind) moves over the waters; the Creator brings all things into being; the Son of course, is identified in the baptism stories where the Holy Spirit is also present as well as the Father; Jesus sends his Spirit after his resurrection; the Spirit arrives at Pentecost as fire and wind...

We've used all sorts of things to explain the Trinity more fully i.e. The Trinity is like an egg in that an egg cannot be complete without a shell, white and yolk. Or the Trinity is like water which is still water even when frozen, liquid or gas. Or the Trinity is like me who is Dennis' wife, Annalivia's mother, and the pastor of First Christian Church, but is still April. Or, my favorite, the Trinity is like a perfect piece of cherry pie where the flaky crust envelopes distinguishable cherries held together in an ambiguous but delicious goo.

Even the littlest kid can get these things, but it's when one tries to explain deeper that words fail us.

That's when this great quote from Evragius, a monk who lived in Pontus in the 4th century, comes in very handy, "God cannot be grasped by the mind. If God could be grasped, God would not be God."

Which is, I think, the real reason that the Trinity is important to Christians; it tells us what we know about God, but more than that, it reminds us that God is beyond human understanding.

The Trinity reminds us that no matter how much we think we know about God, no matter how much we've read the Word, no matter how much we seek God in prayer, no matter how many sermons we hear, we can NEVER fully understand God.

That is SO crucial for us to understand because if we COULD draw a box around God, like our friend, Evagrius said, God would not be God.

For many people, the inability to understand God, to grasp God, leads them to reject the whole notion of God or it is terrifying to them. I understand the inclination to reject what we cannot understand, to turn from what is larger and greater than ourselves. I understand the inclination to limit God to our understanding because a really, truly BIG God means giving up a lot of our "power" which I don't really think we have in the first place.

As Christians, we must remind ourselves that we believe in a God WAY, WAY bigger than our human minds. We believe in a God that is WAY, WAY bigger than human life. We believe in a God who is greater and more expansive than anything any of us can even imagine. We, in fact, must believe beyond our belief.

We do this because we pray to the Father hoping with fervent hope that He hears and knows our inward parts and our needs and desires in ways that haven'occurreded to us yet. We do this because we surrender our lives to Jesus asking him to lead us in paths that we cannot and will not choose when left to our own devices. We do this because we trust the Spirit will gift us and empower us with courage and faith and love and joy and gentleness, etcThatat definitely do not live within us of our own invitation.

This MYSTERY is CRUCIAL to our faith, absolutely CRUCIAL and as Christians we must keep it and even INSIST on it, because there are always people who will try to tell us that God is containable and that God is attainable. From the very beginning of our scriptures, a serpent lays a trap for an unsuspecting woman with the promise that she will be like Yahweh and that has continued throughout our history.

Even our fellow Christians have been tempted to box God. We THINK we know God from His Word, but we cannot ever fully know. The apostle Paul reminds us in I Corinthians that we are ALWAYS seeing through a glass darkly. One day we shall see in full, but that day is not right now, so we must constantly, constantly seek and re-seek the guidance of the Spirit in how we live, teach and preach the Gospel, lest we think we have it figured out and become idolatrous in our self-satisfaction. Mystery is what keeps us seeking. Not knowing the mind of God is what keeps us turning towards Him.

So what is the Trinity? It is our way of expressing what we know about God.

But more importantly, Why is it important to Christians? Because it reminds us how little we understand about God and how very much we have to learn.

Recipe: Portable pumpkin oatmeal

Putting off writing anything of substance, here is the latest culinary brilliance to come out of Kitchen McStew.

Portable Pumpkin Oatmeal

4 c rolled oats

1 1/2 c whole wheat pastry flour, smelt, or kamut (I used smelt)

4 c water

1/2 c yogurt or buttermilk

3 eggs

6 T melted butter

2/3 c brown sugar, sucanat, or rapadura

1 1/2 c pumpkin

2 t vanilla

1 T baking powder

2 t cinnamon

1 1/2 t salt

1 apple chopped (optional, but highly recommended)

For maximum digestibility mix oats, grain of choice, water, and yogurt or buttermilk the night before. Cover and let sit at room temp for 8-24 hours.

Whisk together eggs, butter, sugar, pumpkin and vanilla til well blended.

Sprinkle baking powder, cinnamon, and salt over oatmeal mix. Blend gently but thoroughly with wire whisk.

Add pumpkin mix to oatmeal and whisk til just combined. Add apple if desired.

Pour into 24 greased and/ or lined muffin tins. Muffin tins can be quite full, as this does not raise much.

Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes or til the oatmeal is slightly puffed and moist, but does not look wet.

Remove and let cool a while. If you did not use papers, these will come out of their tins very easily if you let them sit a bit.

I made these because we had a partial can of pumpkin that needed to be used and we LOVE the baked oatmeal recipe from Annie that forms the base of these goodies. They are not as dry as a muffin -- more like an oatmeal (hence the name), but they freeze beautifully and the Bug will eat them right up, so they are winners with us!

A Where-I-am-from contest!

I've been thinking about the hundred different ways to write a Where I am From poem since I posted mine here last month (or it's re-posted in its entirety in the first comment on this post.)

Now there's a contest that you can enter by clicking here. Check out all the info, then write your entry, and if you don't mind, post a link to your poem in the comments here, too. And if you aren't going to enter the contest, just consider using this poem as a spiritual exercise of awareness.

It's a great thing to realize that wherever you're from, God's been there, is there and will be there, too!

Edit:

I'm reposting this here to qualify for the contest. Sorry to be repetitive...

I am from rolling farmland thick with the scent of fresh black earth, heavy with the humidity of summer trapped in the cornfields, lit with the light of Orion's belt and the haze of the Milky Way.

I am from the fishing hill and walks to the creek, the paper tree and new kittens hidden in hay, a treehouse and dancing to Madonna's oldest songs.

I am from brick buildings and ivy, tall oaks and lilacs, leaf-catching and sorority serenades.

I am from yards of peonies, tulips, irises, roses, daylilies, a crocus bow, lilacs and moonflowers, spring beauties in April, and fire-red maples in the Fall.

I am from Main Street picnics, patriotic parades, whiffle ball games, bocce ball and jump-rope in the basement, manger sets and New Year's sleep-overs, conversations and tea around the kitchen table.

I am from division and reconciliation, fear and forgiveness, longing and love.

I am from conversations in the candlelight, confessions at camp, and calling in the mountains.

I am from regret and redemption, naivete and knowledge, faltering and faith.

I am from long-houred returns, gleeful giggles, complex scenarios and common dreams.

I am from thick glasses and a shaved head, shy smiles and bold suggestions, giddy acceptance, ever-deepening respect, and overwhelming desire.

I am from whispered prayers and fervent hopes, newborn cries and soft skin, sparkling eyes and peals of laughter.

I am from my quiet Guide, my prescient Listener, my dawning Assurance, the Gifter of all that I am, all that I have been, and all that I will ever wish to be.

Edifying music and random thoughts on the day

It is 7:30 in the morning here and I'm drinking this wonderful coffee that Lil gave me that I ground myself waiting to call Jimmy who is probably otherwise engaged and listening to Vaughn Williams accompanied by Annalivia on the xylophone. Why those English composers didn't incorporate the six-note xylophone into their compositions, I'll never know. They were missing out.

I haven't posted in the last few days, but it's not for lack of trying. I crafted a brilliant post on immigration reform and then lost it when blogger.com went down. Scurvy curs. Of course, reverting to my seminary days, I was researching as I went along and didn't save often enough, so now, in order to arrive at similar brilliance, I'm going to need Annalivia to take another long nap, which probably isn't going to happen anytime soon. So. Apologies for nothing of real relevance on here.

We've been up since 5:45, but yesterday, theBug slept until 8:30, even though I got up at 7 and moved her back to her own bed. Then she took a three hour nap starting at 11. And went to bed at 7:30. It was amazing. Of course, consequently, she was awake at 5:30 this morning, but there's nothing like a day of real rest to give one a hope for the future.

We've been listening to my new cd A Vaughn Williams Hymnal this morning and over the last few days. It is lovely. Annalivia sometimes stands in front of it and sings with it. Pretty precious. We alternate it with the Kings of Leon so we can dance like crazy fools. I think she prefers Kings of Leon, but it's too early for that now. I wonder if Kids Bop will ever make a version of the Kings of Leon cd. We'll need to stop listening to it when she can recognize what the words actually are saying.

This afternoon we're going to go see my friend Amy and her new husband Jim. They are expecting a baby in November so I'm taking them tons of Annalivia's toys that she never plays with and some other stuff I hope they'll like. What I'd really like to do is give them all the stuff we bought that we only used half of and won't use the other half, but that'd be a little rude. With the sistahs, I could do that, and actually do. But with friends, well, it's just cheap.

Well, it's time to call Jimmy and wake him from whatever reverie he's in this morning. It's 7:45, for goodness' sake! Time to wake up and get on with the day.

Recipe: Pretty awesome pitas

Today is a baking day -- one where the air conditioner remains off and the oven remains on. So I'm making the most of it with sandwich bread, pita bread, pumpkin et al. muffins and my new favorite breakfast food- baked oatmeal. Of course, I planned poorly and started the oven not remembering that two recipes call for eggs. And the egg-man won't bring eggs until this evening when he picks them up from his aunt after work. Oh well.
ANYWAY -- point of all this -- the pitas I made today are WONDERFUL!! So, so, SOOOOO much better than the kind you buy in the store. I used the Montana Wheat Lil gave me for my birthday. It is a very soft, fine wheat. I usually like my whole wheat a little nuttier and coarser, but this wheat makes a great sandwich bread when mixed with spelt.
Pitas
1 cup warm water
1/4 cup yogurt
1 T honey
2 t salt
1 1/2 T olive oil
3-3 1/4 cups whole wheat flour
1 t yeast
Put in bread machine on dough setting in order stated or if mixing by hand, mix water, yogurt and yeast. Add honey, salt, olive oil. Incorporate flour, knead til smooth. Cover and let rise til double. Punch down and divide into 8 parts. Let rest for about 10 minutes. Form into patties about 1/4 inch thick. Heat a non-stick skillet or griddle on med. high heat for about 5 minutes. Cook each pita about 3-4 minutes on a side -- they will puff up if skillet is hot. Prick any large pockets of air to make an even surface. You may have to turn down the skillet as it gets hotter -- I start on med. high and move to med.
These are SO good. Now I'm empowered to try tortillas later this week! Wow.

Making space

Yesterday, for the first time since I moved into the parsonage five years ago, the living room/dining room was empty.

Dennis and I had decided to shampoo the carpets that had not been cleaned since I moved in, and really, hadn't been cleaned before that for goodness-knows-how-long.

I woke up at 6:00 to the sounds of grunting; Dennis was single-handedly moving all the furniture into the guest bedroom (which just happens to be across the hall from our room). I was in grumpy-wake-up-mood and not very nicely asked him to close the door since the Bug was snuggling with me expecting that we'd get up in a couple of minutes. Well, an hour and a half later, the Bug and I emerged sleepily to see NOTHING in our living/dining room.

The thing is, it was AWESOME!! There was no junk, no mess, no stuff that we've been needing to deal with that we've just shoved into the bookcase to await the perfect time (which, strangely, never seems to arrive). Of course, all of said junk, mess, stuff was crammed into a much smaller room, but nevertheless, we tasted freedom!

Yesterday, after shampooing carpets and letting them dry, we moved the furniture back into the room, but not all the furniture. And we rearranged the stuff we had. I also took the art off the walls and the few knick-knacks we had, we haven't put back yet.

I'm not sure much of it will come back, actually. There are a few things like the woman pot Roo made that needs to come back. And the photos of the family are great, instructive entertainment for Annalivia.

But I find myself wanting to divest of our stuff. I don't know why, really. Most of the things we haven't moved back are things I used to love. I guess now I just love my people more and since things don't love me back and yet do take up a lot of time and energy, they are on the losing end of this choice.

A while ago, Ann V. had a post over at Choosing Home wherein she mentioned that she had walls and windows as her decorations in her house. I've thought about that a lot lately (an aside -- it's kind of amazing that one person can be so dern inspiring!). Anyway, when Dennis and I went to Kentucky on our engagement trip, we stayed at Shakertown. We both loved the simplicity of that place -- the way the architecture was the decoration. Of course, both of us thought it would just be IMPOSSIBLE to live without all of our things. But, as I get older, and well, poorer, thus being unable to afford the cleaning lady, thus being much less tolerant of things that must be dusted myself, I find myself thinking that not only would it be POSSIBLE, but BLESSED. How much more cool is it to spend time with loved ones rather than cleaning? Granted I live in a 1950's ranch-style house right now where architecture is not a strong aesthetic pull, BUT someday we won't. And wherever that is, looking at the glory of creation will be much more edifying than French advertising posters.

Anyway, we have succeeded at making some space -- both mental and physical-- here at Casa de McStew. Of course, there's a back bedroom now stuffed to the brim, but we'll deal with that later.

Fire, wind, and warblers

Today is Pentecost and I am up WAY, WAY too late finishing up last minute things for church (read: putting the finishing touches on a sermon).

Every Pentecost, my little congregation arrives in our red clothing and tries to be as charismatic as an elderly mainline congregation can muster. I've a feeling that it will be our hymns that will redeem our attempts tomorrow. My favorite Spirit hymn, Sweet, Sweet Spirit will be the first of the day. Of course, our hymnal has it about three whole steps above anyone over-50's early morning singing voice, but we'll manage and our voices will be magnified somewhere by the rushing of wind. Happy Pentecost!

"There's a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place and I know that it's the Spirit of the Lord.
There are sweet expressions on each face, and I know they feel the presence of the Lord.
Sweet Holy Spirit, sweet heavenly dove, stay right here with us, filling us with your love.
And for these blessings, we'll lift our hearts in praise.
Without a doubt we'll know that we have been revived when we shall leave this place.
There are blessings you cannot receive, 'til you know him in his fullness and believe.
You're the one to profit when you say, "I am going to walk with Jesus all the way."
Sweet Holy Spirit, sweet heavenly dove, stay right here with us, filling us with your love.
And for these blessings, we'll lift our hearts in praise.
Without a doubt we'll know that we have been revived when we shall leave this place."

Hilarity in stardates

As a former fan of Star Trek the Next Generation, I want to refer anyone interested to this hilarious blog. Scroll down to Laundry Breakdown. One of the most hilarious things I've read this week. If you aren't at least a closet Trekkie, you'll probably want to skip this recommendation. Sistahs, you'll want to read this and listen to this hilarious Picard Song. Make sure your speakers are on. It's a little long, but funny.

On being "real"

I was listening to the radio the other day and a speaker said, "God doesn't want you to be perfect. God wants you to be real."

That which is real could be the start of pretty much any ontological discussion. Real, according to dictionary.com is "Being or occurring in fact or actuality; having verifiable existence; True and actual; not imaginary, alleged, or ideal." True. Actual. Verifiable. Genuine. Authentic.

I realized as I thought about this, that I have a problem being a real Christian. Because for me at least, being an authentic Christian is very complex. And I find that I have a hard time representing the complexity within me to others.

Very often, rather than just letting myself be me, I instead take the cues of what- kind- of- Christian- I- should- be- today from the folks around me. For example, I am LOVING hanging out at the Choosing Home Forums and have been SO incredibly inspired by these women who, well, "choose home." But I am not *using terms with which I'm uncomfortable* a "conservative, evangelical" Christian. Not even close, really. And sometimes I feel like I'm representing myself as different than I actually am.

I love being with my church people and even leading them sometimes(!), but I'm not a wise sage when it comes to policy and practice. Not even close, really. And I CERTAINLY am not aBible scholar, though I know I should be. Sometimes I feel compelled to represent myself as both sage and scholar, when really I haven't a clue of what to do or where to go to find the answers

I love crazy irreverent humor. I love to make fun of myself and some of the most joyful moments in my life have been laughing raucously with others who will laugh at themselves. I am not a saint. Not even close. Nor am I a comedian. And to pretend to be otherwise isn't honest either.

I'm finding as I move into 31 that I am dissatisfied with being a chameleon, but also dissatisfied at being uncovered as a weird creature without category -- a platypus, if you will. I find myself wishing I was like the brilliant, faithful women at CH, or the amazing pastors and preachers I've known and know, or the hilarious commentor on the BBC. Without the superlatives, these things are me -- wife/momma, pastor/preacher, commentator. It's silly to be envious of not fitting into a category, but I still wish, wish, wish there was one for me.

It seems so immature now that it's in writing, yet I sense there are others (all of whom may be related to me) who struggle with this, too.

I guess the solution is simply to be more honest and seek answers to my existential queries in prayer. After all, I guess God knows my category and loves the reality of me, even if I'm not sure about me yet.

Just when ya think you're unique

Holy cow, Dawn is right! [Edit -- not "holy cow" because Dawn is right *oops!* "holy cow" because of the following info.] There apparently is a long and varied White Rabbit tradition beyond the reaches of the McClure family or even the Eureka High School bandos. Crazy.
Anyway, I googled "rabbit first month" and was shocked to find all sorts of info. Here's some.

WHITE RABBITS ON THE FIRST OF THE MONTH - "In some parts of Lancashire and the adjacent counties, it is unwise to shoot a black rabbit. This is because they were once believed to be ancestral spirits returning in that form. In Somerset, white rabbits are said to be witches. That anyone really believes this now is improbable; nevertheless, white rabbits are not popular as children's pets, and they are usually left severely alone, and are not shot. A luck-bringing custom found all over Great Britain is to say 'Rabbits' or 'White Rabbits' once or three times on the first day of the month. It must be said early in the morning, before any other word has been uttered, otherwise the charm loses its force. In some districts it is considered necessary to say 'Hares' or 'Black Rabbits' when going to bed on the night before, as well as 'Rabbits' or White Rabbits' in the morning. If, however, the speaker becomes muddled and says 'Black Rabbits' on rising, bad luck will follow. The looked-for result of all this is variously given as general good luck during the ensuing four weeks, or the receipt of a gift within a few days." From the "Encyclopedia of Superstitions" by E. and M.A. Radford, edited and revised by Christina Hole, Barnes and Noble Books, 1996. First published in 1948.

That's a little too weird for me.

I guess there are others who also view this as a big game. However, apparently there are people who are even more retentive than we who have codified rules. For example...

Here are the basic rules for White Rabbit.

1. Full credit will only be awarded for live contact. This means either meeting in person or speaking to the other person on the phone.
2. Contact will be determined based upon the time where the individual is residing when contact is made. In other words, if I'm in Wisconsin and I'm calling you in California, I can only get points if it is 12:00 a.m. or later in California.
3. Contact must occur between one second past midnight on the first day of the month and midnight of the 11:59.59 on the first.
4. Partial credit may be awarded for unusual and creative contact. This could include items such as flowers, balloons, sky-writing, dancing messengers or other similar efforts.
5. The receipt of the special message must occur prior to 11:59.59. Contestants are bound by honor to report receipt accurately.
6. Faxes, e-mails and letters will not be considered valid contact.
7. January 1 of each year will count for double credit.
8. Contestants must be of age to enable them to initiate contact in future months. In other words, it's no fair to white rabbit a new born. The winner each month is entitled to gloat during the remainder of the month.
9. It is not legal to disguise your voice in order to make other contestants believe that they have reached a party other than yourself.
10. In the event of any question over the interpretation of these rules, final determination shall be made by a mutually agreed upon, neutral arbitrator.

I think I personally prefer a loosely codified set of ambiguous rules so as to allow the sisters/participants to create and/or refute a rule as befits the particular charge being levelled by another, more sinister sister/participant. It's just more fun.

My daughter o' the boy-hair

Victim of her mother's scissors and her own propensity for wiggling. Poor child.

The rabbit that is white

Well, it is the first of the month and knowing that Marissa will get an automatic update, I feel compelled to say, "WHITE RABBIT!"

The advantage of having a barista as a sistah...

is that one has access to really good coffee. Really good. Yum. Thanks, Lil!

Or perhaps they can't hear us because we're not saying anything

The United Church News, the print news service of the United Church of Christ published an article, "Amplifying the Mainline" this month. The article addresses the woeful lack of presence by mainline church leaders in major news media. It cites a report by the research group, Media Matters that indicates that mainline churches, who according to the article, happen to hold one-quarter of America's church-going membership, are rarely, if ever, represented on national news reports.
The article also goes beyond merely lamenting the presence of mainline church leaders in discussions of Christianity to focus on the work of the Institute for Religion and Democracy, an institution dedicated to reforming the mainline church through a return to biblical principles. In the article it's called a "neo-con" organization that has been launching systematic attacks on the mainline denominations "to disrupt mainline churches, discredit their national agencies, and 'decapitate' mainline leaders. "
So now we know why mainline churches have been failing to reach the hearts of the American public. It's "their" fault.
Or -- and I know this is a stretch -- perhaps it's not someone else's fault at all. Perhaps it's because we haven't had anything to say.
For at least four decades mainline churches have been more focused on holding together crumbling infrastructures and maintaining outdated hierarchies than focusing on what gave us our status as, well, status-symbols in the first place, which was a very pointed and real effort to reach the unchurched. Somewhere along the line, we figured that since we didn't see anyone who was unchurched, they didn't exist. That, or they were "over there" in some far off country or they were young and foolish and would join our ways if just given enough time, though we'd be darned if we were going to expend much effort on them in the meantime. We had proud histories of ministry and change. We rested on them, clung to them, and held them up whenever anyone asked about our relevance in the world.
Into that void, stepped the young upstarts, the evangelical, pentecostal, and charismatic churches who bothered to connect with youth, made mission a priority, worked on being relevant in their communications, and decided to make history now rather than reflect upon it.
Et voila! Evangelicals on the rise, mainline in decline.
Clearly it was "their" fault.
Ok. I know it's more complicated than all of this, but really -- do we have anyone to point to other than ourselves? We're the ones who have let this happen, who have treasured institutions over individuals, structures over Spirit, process over people. This mess is all us, not "them."

The thing is, if we want to change whether we are heard, we cannot use our scant resources to work against those we see as our antagonists. That's just immature and childish. Nor can we adopt the victim mentality with which we are all far too familiar and whine about how those mean big voices are drowning us out. So what if "they" are out to get us? Shake the dust off our feet and get on with ministry, for heaven's sake.
It's time to move beyond this and start actually doing what our denominations were founded to do -- put faith into action without leaving our brains at the door.
The fact is -- the mainline churches do actually have a pretty large leg to stand on when it comes to Biblical theology. We've got pretty good ideas, really, and a history to back us up and inspire us, not excuse us from action.

But in order to speak, we're going to have to have something to say. As the article in United Church News said, quoting Robert Edgar, general secretary of the National Council of Churches said, "It's time for mainline church leaders to spend less time trying to hold their organizations together, and speak instead about those issues that God cares about -- that God cares about the poor. God cares about justice. God cares about the stewardship of the Earth."

And it would really help if we knew what we were talking about. Most of us are terrified by the evangelicals living next door because they know the Bible and we don't. Well, the way to fix that is to read the Bible. Get into a personal relationship with Jesus. Find the mission to which He is calling us. Put faith into action.

And while we're at it, let's just ignore the people trying to derail the plan. Let's not get distracted. Let's not stoop to that level. If conservative groups in our denominations want to call us faithless, so be it. Let's not turn around and call them simple. Let's not prooftext unless we want to be prooftext-ed to. Let's not express pity for the poor fools while looking down the nose at them either.

Let's just follow Jesus.

This seems like a no-brainer to me. If we want to be heard, why don't we start saying something worth hearing. Better yet, why don't we let our actions speak louder than our words. Let's change the world. Eventually, they'll hear what we have to say.

So that's what a weekend feels like

One of the inconvenient side-effects of my calling is that my family doesn't get to have a weekend very often.

But on extended weekends, we get to have almost two days of time that is just ours. And it is always wonderful.

This time, we went to Eureka for the Memorial Day festivities. We had a good trip down. Annalivia read.

We were greeted with news from Lil and Jake that Fetie II will be joining us in February next year, which is beyond exciting. Kalin fixed my blogs and it was just absolutely amazing to watch her work -- staring at source code with fingers flying. Roo and I went to the cemetery together and had a time to drive around Eureka together like we used to do as high schoolers. Dennis and Jake fixed things and tinkered with the endless little jobs always available at the farm. Annalivia played with her cousins and hung out with Grandpa Bob. Mom made a great dinner and spent some time just chatting with us.

Got to watch a sunset at the farm (though not the one in this pic that Kali took a couple of days ago.)

On Monday we joined Grammy and Gramps for the parade. Then went to the cemetery for a wonderful program. The speaker was a guy who has served two tours of duty in Afghanistan and he simply shared stories of fallen comrades. It was so incredibly moving. Really amazing. I once again was glad I made the trip.

Dennis and I had great conversation on the way home and Annalivia did amazingly well on the trip. After she woke up about 45 minutes into the trip, she sang to herself and talked a lot, ate some snacks and stuff, but didn't fuss at all. She did so well, in fact, that we ended up running errands and getting a new portable dvd player to replace one that died. We also bought a gas grill that we've been eyeing. So we got home and had hamburgers, corn on the cob, and watermelon. It was just really, really nice. We had a weekend. Wow.

The real thing

It was a dreary, drizzling, cold Memorial Day -- the kind that comes after a week of beautiful weather when the sun has shined and the sky has been robin's egg blue and everyone has been looking forward to the holiday weekend because the foretaste of gorgeous weather has been so divine. But then Memorial Day dawns cold and wet and everyone's hopes for the day deflate.
Even in the best weather this parade is for the die-hards. The American Legion leading off, the high school band following, a couple of antique tractors, a skittish group of horses sandwiched between the classic cars and the town firetrucks, it is eight blocks down Main Street to the cemetery where hundreds of people huddle around an aging sound-system to hear a person who has no training in public speaking address what it is to be an American. It is not perfect or even polished, but I make the two-hour trip home to Eureka for the Memorial Day parade and program because regardless of what is happening in our country, my faith in it is fortified there.

However, on this day with rain coming down, the plans had been changed. The parade had been cancelled and the program had been relocated to the high school gymnasium.
My sister, aunt and I were unloading a car in my grandparents' driveway. The cars were sloshing by on Main Street and we were hustling to get the goods inside before a little rain became a lot of rain.
But we were stopped in our tracks by a tinny rimshot. tap, tap, tap We looked around wondering what in the world was going on. The parade had been cancelled, right? tap, tap, tap Perfectly rhythmic, it got closer. tap, tap, tap

Four people appeared on the hill, marching in perfect step towards the oncoming traffic on Main Street. They were wearing full Civil War regalia. One was beating a drum. One was playing a fife. One was carrying a musket and in the center one carried the flag.

Through the drizzle, past cars splashing water at their feet, eyes straightforward, they marched. The only show of emotion on their faces was grim resolution. There was no fear or self-consciousness. No pride or proving. They were completely immersed in their task, doing exactly what it was they were to do, marching towards the cemetery to honor the dead. It was clear that nothing was going to keep them from doing their work. Nothing.

My sister, aunt and I were silent as speechless and they passed by. It was one of the most moving experiences I have ever had. We watched them silently, riveted by their devotion. And when they had passed, when we turned to look at each other, we all had tears in our eyes.

I have seen many parades since then. Some of have had fancy floats, exquisite bands, excellent timing, great candy, even.

But none have ever had the heart of that rainy Memorial Day parade. THAT parade was a lesson in patriotism I will never forget. THAT parade was an example of what being an American is all about.

O beautiful for heroes prov'd in liberating strife,

Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life.

America! America! May God thy gold refine til' all success be nobleness,

And ev'ry gain divine. ~ Katharine Lee Bates