Today is our annual Sunday School Christmas program. This evening, our Sunday School children and youth, dressed in their Christmas splendor will share the gospel with an affirming group of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, older and younger siblings and many of our church family. They will be wearing nativity costumes as they say their parts. Some of the costumes will be ill-fitting. Shepherds will use their crooks as hockey sticks or light sabers (my personal favorite). The Wise Men's crowns will slip down around their eyes and the angels are certain to trip over their hems as they make their entrance. In short, perfection!
One of the many perks of my ministry is the Christmas Program. This can be a touchy subject among Sunday School teachers and Children's Ministries personnel. All Christmas programs carry with them the unpredictability of working with children who, when in front of a large group of people, will often surprise you. The first year I served at my current church, we had three beautifully dressed little preschool girls who presented us with our first "full contact Christmas program" as they rolled around on the floor after a disagreement. Some children freeze with a "deer in the headlights" look when they realize that there are lots of people sitting in the sanctuary. I always feel their terror as I break out into a sweat and pray that God would provide a miracle, or maybe a fire, to create a diversion and let them exit gracefully.
One of the biggest challenges is a "live" microphone. Kids are attracted to microphones like bees to flowers. They blow into them and, even burp into them. Amplification of these noises spurs them on to more of the same.
Getting the children to speak loudly and slowly can also be a challenge. The same sixth grade boy who screams on the playground for 30 minutes at a time can barely be heard when singing a Christmas song in front of seventy people. Other children, in hopes of finally being able to put their Christmas program behind them for another year, speed through their lines so quickly that it could be "Unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord" or "Come this way and I'll show you a shiny new Ford".
Yet, I look forward to this event every year. No matter what happens during that hour, nothing can dampen the power of the Gospel. The traditional nativity, with 1st and second grade Mary and Joseph, Wise Men with foil wrapped gifts and Shepherds with bathrobes, still brings a tear to my eye. I love their interpretation of the sacred scripture. I love their nervous energy before the program and the looks of relief as notes of the last song fade. I think it's terrific that the Men's Club hands out treat bags with peanuts, candy and fruit after the program and "high-five" the kids as they leave the sanctuary. It's a scene that has played out for years and years, and will continue long after I am gone.
Tomorrow, I will be a little bit sad as I put away the manger for another year and pack away the gifts of the Magi. My mind will replay the program through a glossy filter, forgetting the last minute costume fittings and nervous preschoolers. But I will remember that unto all of us was born that day a Savior who is Christ the Lord.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Christmas Preparations
I've been a bit late getting my Christmas preparations done this year. It seemed to have snuck up on me - I was spring cleaning, packing for the Labor Day Retreat, digging out my Halloween decorations, waking up for theBlack Friday shopping frenzy and then it was December. Just that quick! Of course, the retail outlets have had Christmas decorations out since before Halloween, but I'm just getting into the swing of things.
A couple of weeks ago, I said a prayer, took a deep breath and descended into my creepy basement to retrieve the enormous box my Christmas tree resides in and the six rubbermate totes that hold my Christmas decorations. My house is very, very old and my basement is made of stones. The stairway is a bit scant and Lucy, my dog, won't venture down the stars. Now Monster, my Siamese, that's another story. She spends most of her life waiting for the door to the basement to be left open so she can prowl in the crawl space for hours. She emerges covered in cobwebs and happy as a lark. I, however, don't care much for walking into spider webs and avoid going downstairs whenever possible. After fifteen minutes of lifting, climbing and carrying, my decorations are in the laundry room awaiting assembly. Part One - complete!
A few years ago, I bought a seven foot prelit Christmas tree on Black Friday. This was a huge step up from the five foot big-box special I had been using. The assembly is a snap as the branches are on hinges and fold down with ease. I spent half an hour fluffing, scrutinizing, checking for holes and finding an extension cord. I plugged in the tree and .... only half the lights came on. Oh, man. I check for extra fuses and set about trying to pry the cover off and change fuses smaller than a grain of rice. My sister-in-law happened to call about this time and I expressed my unhappiness with this prelit tree. Hesitantly, my sister-in-law asked me if I had all the strings of lights plugged into each other. Well... After another several minutes of rounding up seventeen little strings with plug-ins, all the lights on my tree are lit. Part Two - complete!
On to the decorations. I really like garland. We always had that on the tree when I was little and it brings back memories of Christmases past. Unwrapping the ornaments took me down another nostalgic trail. My tree is topped with a crown of thorns to help keep the focus on Christ and an angel.
I bought a new tree skirt on clearance last year and, after spending 15 minutes freeing it from it's packaging, laid it under the tree. It's made out of a nylon-type of fabric and has red glitter adorning it. Monster took an instant liking to this tree skirt and has spent many happy hours wrapped up in the fabric glaring out at the world since the tree has been up. Every so often she will leave her hiding spot to jump out at the dog as Lucy ambles by admiring herself in the shiny bulbs. Now Lucy won't go near the tree. I guess there is a silver lining to every cloud.
The rest of the house is also given a liberal dose of Christmas spirit. I don't have a great eye for decorating, but I enjoy seeing all of my pretty Christmas hung, even for just a month. Several years ago, shortly after I joined the staff at the church, I bought a nativity scene made for little hands. It's made of a virtually indestructible rubber and children can play with the figures and rearrange the manger scene for hours.
At the end of the decorating evening, I turned off the living room lamps and enjoyed the Christmas tree lights. This is one of my favorite parts of Christmas. The quiet, serene moments to reflect on the true meaning of Christmas - a baby in a manger. Those long winter evenings curled under a blanket watching a Christmas movie makes you thankful you don't live in a place where you need the air conditioning to get through Christmas dinner. I take advantage of these moments as often as I can. Soon enough it'll be Epiphany and the tree will be packed up and schlepped back downstairs for another year. Until then, with the dog at my feet and the cat under the tree, I'll prepare my heart for Christmas.
A couple of weeks ago, I said a prayer, took a deep breath and descended into my creepy basement to retrieve the enormous box my Christmas tree resides in and the six rubbermate totes that hold my Christmas decorations. My house is very, very old and my basement is made of stones. The stairway is a bit scant and Lucy, my dog, won't venture down the stars. Now Monster, my Siamese, that's another story. She spends most of her life waiting for the door to the basement to be left open so she can prowl in the crawl space for hours. She emerges covered in cobwebs and happy as a lark. I, however, don't care much for walking into spider webs and avoid going downstairs whenever possible. After fifteen minutes of lifting, climbing and carrying, my decorations are in the laundry room awaiting assembly. Part One - complete!
A few years ago, I bought a seven foot prelit Christmas tree on Black Friday. This was a huge step up from the five foot big-box special I had been using. The assembly is a snap as the branches are on hinges and fold down with ease. I spent half an hour fluffing, scrutinizing, checking for holes and finding an extension cord. I plugged in the tree and .... only half the lights came on. Oh, man. I check for extra fuses and set about trying to pry the cover off and change fuses smaller than a grain of rice. My sister-in-law happened to call about this time and I expressed my unhappiness with this prelit tree. Hesitantly, my sister-in-law asked me if I had all the strings of lights plugged into each other. Well... After another several minutes of rounding up seventeen little strings with plug-ins, all the lights on my tree are lit. Part Two - complete!
On to the decorations. I really like garland. We always had that on the tree when I was little and it brings back memories of Christmases past. Unwrapping the ornaments took me down another nostalgic trail. My tree is topped with a crown of thorns to help keep the focus on Christ and an angel.
I bought a new tree skirt on clearance last year and, after spending 15 minutes freeing it from it's packaging, laid it under the tree. It's made out of a nylon-type of fabric and has red glitter adorning it. Monster took an instant liking to this tree skirt and has spent many happy hours wrapped up in the fabric glaring out at the world since the tree has been up. Every so often she will leave her hiding spot to jump out at the dog as Lucy ambles by admiring herself in the shiny bulbs. Now Lucy won't go near the tree. I guess there is a silver lining to every cloud.
The rest of the house is also given a liberal dose of Christmas spirit. I don't have a great eye for decorating, but I enjoy seeing all of my pretty Christmas hung, even for just a month. Several years ago, shortly after I joined the staff at the church, I bought a nativity scene made for little hands. It's made of a virtually indestructible rubber and children can play with the figures and rearrange the manger scene for hours.
At the end of the decorating evening, I turned off the living room lamps and enjoyed the Christmas tree lights. This is one of my favorite parts of Christmas. The quiet, serene moments to reflect on the true meaning of Christmas - a baby in a manger. Those long winter evenings curled under a blanket watching a Christmas movie makes you thankful you don't live in a place where you need the air conditioning to get through Christmas dinner. I take advantage of these moments as often as I can. Soon enough it'll be Epiphany and the tree will be packed up and schlepped back downstairs for another year. Until then, with the dog at my feet and the cat under the tree, I'll prepare my heart for Christmas.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Black Friday Debriefing
Have you ever had the irresistible urge to get up at 3:00 a.m. and stand around in a large retail establishment watching people push, shove, scream and act in a manner that they would never want their children to see? Yeah, me too!
Once again, Black Friday offered all you have come to expect from an event largely driven by a materialistic society that values possessions - irate people grabbing and pushing while the cash registers tally the profits. As we picked up the paper on Thanksgiving day before heading over the river and through the subdivision, the weight could have crushed a small child. The flyers were plentiful and we knew that the stores had outdone themselves this year. With the economy slowly recovering from the recession, those in power were going to lure people into their stores with visions of large screen televisions and game systems at prices even the Grinch would get out of bed for.
Our Thanksgiving meal was terrific. The dark meat moist, the stuffing truly terrific and the mashed potatoes made from real spuds. The dinner company was bright and witty with a few potty training comments thrown in for good measure. Please remember that we shared the table with a family ranging in age from 60 to 3 years old. We were quite fortunate not to have the conversation regress further. After eating almost our body weight in amazing cuisine, we settled down to look at the ads and plan our strategy.
There were lots of deals to choose from - Nintendo DS for $96, televisions for $246 and many smaller items dirt cheap. Children's pjs were $3 a pair, which is a blessing considering how quickly the grow. My youngest nephew decided that everything in every circular was exactly what he wanted for Christmas. How can you argue with logic like that?!?
After much debate over supper, it was decided that my father and I would zip back to my house to get a change of clothes and sleep on my brother's couches so my sister-in-law, father and I could get as much sleep as possible before heading out at 3:00 a.m. I admit it was hard to sleep, knowing that the alarm would be taking off early and I was pretty excited.
Three a.m. came way too early and we stumbled out the door for our respective big box retail outlets. My sister-in-law dropped me at the door to take my place in line and the game was afoot. We were able to wait inside as our big box store is opened 24 hours a day. We stood in line at electronics and waited for 5 a.m. to come. As usual, we found our fellow line members to be in a jovial, if slightly dazed mood as we waited. We were second in line behind a woman who had been there since 11:30 p.m. the night before. (And you think I'm obsessive!). As the line got longer, tempers got shorter. People started to yell at each other and management stepped in immediately. I was so impressed with how they handled the people in line. This chain store had had an employee trampled to death in one of their stores down South and they were prepared to deal with disgruntled crowds. Security was called to manage "the line". Clipboards came out and you knew they meant business. Line budgers were swiftly sent to the back of the line with stern words and a steely look.
My father was not so fortunate at his retail location, as one lone teenager was standing in line for ten friends who arrived minutes before the doors opened to take their spots at the front of the line. Mayhem briefly broke out and as the doors opened, all hints of a line dissolved as it was every man for themselves. My father came away angry and empty handed.
With our biggest purchase safely tucked in our shopping bags, we made the curcuit through the mall and numerous stops around town. The clerks were very pleasant and I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a "Merry Christmas" at a few stores. That's right -- Christmas is about Christ. I love it when stores acknowledge that! The check out lines were well-staffed and we were meeting my brother and the nephews for brunch in record time. Even the restaurant was speedy and we were fed and out in no time.
I had a great time shopping with my sister-in-law, buying gifts for my family and friends and getting in on the bargains. I have more time than money, so I can spare a little sleep to save money. It's fun to watch people and observe their coping strategies on Black Friday. I know that several people think I'm crazy for getting up that early to go shopping, but I really do have a blast.
I haven't taken my eye off of what is important as we begin this journey of Advent. I anticipate this baby-Savior with much excitement and love to hear the prophecy of Emmanuel, God with us. I also await a day when this Messiah comes back a second time to establish His kingdom. When my alarm went off this morning, I suggested that perhaps today would be a good day for Jesus to return. Apparently God's got a better idea -- always! In the meantime, maybe I infused a couple of people with some calm, Christmas cheer on Black Friday. Perhaps I provided a good laugh to some tired shoppers as I tried to lug a coffee pot, three towels, two DVDs and a coffee mug across the big box store. However God chooses to use me, I'm up for the challenge.
Once again, Black Friday offered all you have come to expect from an event largely driven by a materialistic society that values possessions - irate people grabbing and pushing while the cash registers tally the profits. As we picked up the paper on Thanksgiving day before heading over the river and through the subdivision, the weight could have crushed a small child. The flyers were plentiful and we knew that the stores had outdone themselves this year. With the economy slowly recovering from the recession, those in power were going to lure people into their stores with visions of large screen televisions and game systems at prices even the Grinch would get out of bed for.
Our Thanksgiving meal was terrific. The dark meat moist, the stuffing truly terrific and the mashed potatoes made from real spuds. The dinner company was bright and witty with a few potty training comments thrown in for good measure. Please remember that we shared the table with a family ranging in age from 60 to 3 years old. We were quite fortunate not to have the conversation regress further. After eating almost our body weight in amazing cuisine, we settled down to look at the ads and plan our strategy.
There were lots of deals to choose from - Nintendo DS for $96, televisions for $246 and many smaller items dirt cheap. Children's pjs were $3 a pair, which is a blessing considering how quickly the grow. My youngest nephew decided that everything in every circular was exactly what he wanted for Christmas. How can you argue with logic like that?!?
After much debate over supper, it was decided that my father and I would zip back to my house to get a change of clothes and sleep on my brother's couches so my sister-in-law, father and I could get as much sleep as possible before heading out at 3:00 a.m. I admit it was hard to sleep, knowing that the alarm would be taking off early and I was pretty excited.
Three a.m. came way too early and we stumbled out the door for our respective big box retail outlets. My sister-in-law dropped me at the door to take my place in line and the game was afoot. We were able to wait inside as our big box store is opened 24 hours a day. We stood in line at electronics and waited for 5 a.m. to come. As usual, we found our fellow line members to be in a jovial, if slightly dazed mood as we waited. We were second in line behind a woman who had been there since 11:30 p.m. the night before. (And you think I'm obsessive!). As the line got longer, tempers got shorter. People started to yell at each other and management stepped in immediately. I was so impressed with how they handled the people in line. This chain store had had an employee trampled to death in one of their stores down South and they were prepared to deal with disgruntled crowds. Security was called to manage "the line". Clipboards came out and you knew they meant business. Line budgers were swiftly sent to the back of the line with stern words and a steely look.
My father was not so fortunate at his retail location, as one lone teenager was standing in line for ten friends who arrived minutes before the doors opened to take their spots at the front of the line. Mayhem briefly broke out and as the doors opened, all hints of a line dissolved as it was every man for themselves. My father came away angry and empty handed.
With our biggest purchase safely tucked in our shopping bags, we made the curcuit through the mall and numerous stops around town. The clerks were very pleasant and I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a "Merry Christmas" at a few stores. That's right -- Christmas is about Christ. I love it when stores acknowledge that! The check out lines were well-staffed and we were meeting my brother and the nephews for brunch in record time. Even the restaurant was speedy and we were fed and out in no time.
I had a great time shopping with my sister-in-law, buying gifts for my family and friends and getting in on the bargains. I have more time than money, so I can spare a little sleep to save money. It's fun to watch people and observe their coping strategies on Black Friday. I know that several people think I'm crazy for getting up that early to go shopping, but I really do have a blast.
I haven't taken my eye off of what is important as we begin this journey of Advent. I anticipate this baby-Savior with much excitement and love to hear the prophecy of Emmanuel, God with us. I also await a day when this Messiah comes back a second time to establish His kingdom. When my alarm went off this morning, I suggested that perhaps today would be a good day for Jesus to return. Apparently God's got a better idea -- always! In the meantime, maybe I infused a couple of people with some calm, Christmas cheer on Black Friday. Perhaps I provided a good laugh to some tired shoppers as I tried to lug a coffee pot, three towels, two DVDs and a coffee mug across the big box store. However God chooses to use me, I'm up for the challenge.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Beauty of Simplicity
Imagine my surprise when turning my weekly calendar page on Monday to find that Thanksgiving is next week! I still haven't planned or embarked on last summers' vacation. I still have Halloween candy in the cupboard! I haven't unpacked my winter clothes from storage. Guess it's time to step it up. After all, Christmas decorations have been in the stores for at least a month already.
My Thanksgiving destination this year is over the river and through the subdivision to my brother and sister-in-law's house. It'll be a typical Rhodes' holiday with lots of food, plenty of snacks, grandpa sleeping in the recliner and everyone planning Black Friday strategies. We'll stay up late playing cards and laughing until someone spits soda out their nose (usually me!). My parents' Golden Retriever puppy, Penny, will play with Lucy, my Golden until they collapse on the floor, completely spent. My friend, Julie and her children will occupy the guest rooms and we'll stay up way too late talking. On Friday morn, we'll stumble from our beds way too early and battle the Black Friday crowds in search of Christmas gifts and great deals. The weekend will be that awkward time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when the tree isn't up yet, but the television has started their parade of Christmas specials. Sunday, November 29th is the first Sunday of Advent and before we know it, Christmas will be here.
Last week, my aunt was transferred to a local hospital after she was rediagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. This is her fourth trip down this particular road and none of us are excited about the trip, especially her. Anyone who has spent even one night in the hospital as a patient knows that you turn in your privacy and dignity at the door. Your gown is one-size-fits-none and covers minimally. There is a steady stream of people in and out of your room at all hours of the day and night. People ask very intrusive questions and don't seem phased a bit by the answers. In the midst of that, you feel sick and you may be scared. You consent to medical procedures that sound painful and frightening. And you wait.
On Tuesday, my aunt was given the green light to go home. After two and a half weeks of inpatient hospital care, she was free to go. And go she did, shepherded home by my brother and I. She was so excited as we pulled into the yard. Her German Shepherd, Pepsi, was there to greet her. We unloaded the care and settled her in. After a few minutes, we were back on the road, eager to start a long trip back to our homes.
As I lay in my bed that night, I began to count my own blessings. Laying in my own comfy bed with Lucy snuggled beside me. A cold glass of water on the bedside table. Heat and shelter and food and clothes. My family and friends and health.
Yesterday at church, we spent time with the children and youth giving thanks for God's blessings. We automatically included family. It was easy for them to name the "things" that they were thankful for - MP3 players, cell phones, game systems and pets were at the top of their lists and rightly so. However, when I asked them to name stuff that they were thankful for that wasn't "stuff" at all, that slowed them down a bit. With a little prompting, the began to name their talents, abilities, friends and health.
I challenged them to count their blessings every day, including the things that didn't seem like blessings at the time. Those circumstances that reveal strength you didn't know you possessed. The times you saw God's strength when your strength was gone. Those moments of refinement when you can feel the fire. Our good friend, Job, told his wife "Are we to accept only good things from God and not bad?". Those are the things taht are harder to be thankful for; and yet God asks us to praise and worship Him for those things to.
As I approach this Thanksgiving, I am going to take time every day to thank God for the little things that make my life so sweet, three year old smiles and children's hugs, soft socks and puppy kisses. I encourage you to make some to count your simple blessings. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!
My Thanksgiving destination this year is over the river and through the subdivision to my brother and sister-in-law's house. It'll be a typical Rhodes' holiday with lots of food, plenty of snacks, grandpa sleeping in the recliner and everyone planning Black Friday strategies. We'll stay up late playing cards and laughing until someone spits soda out their nose (usually me!). My parents' Golden Retriever puppy, Penny, will play with Lucy, my Golden until they collapse on the floor, completely spent. My friend, Julie and her children will occupy the guest rooms and we'll stay up way too late talking. On Friday morn, we'll stumble from our beds way too early and battle the Black Friday crowds in search of Christmas gifts and great deals. The weekend will be that awkward time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when the tree isn't up yet, but the television has started their parade of Christmas specials. Sunday, November 29th is the first Sunday of Advent and before we know it, Christmas will be here.
Last week, my aunt was transferred to a local hospital after she was rediagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. This is her fourth trip down this particular road and none of us are excited about the trip, especially her. Anyone who has spent even one night in the hospital as a patient knows that you turn in your privacy and dignity at the door. Your gown is one-size-fits-none and covers minimally. There is a steady stream of people in and out of your room at all hours of the day and night. People ask very intrusive questions and don't seem phased a bit by the answers. In the midst of that, you feel sick and you may be scared. You consent to medical procedures that sound painful and frightening. And you wait.
On Tuesday, my aunt was given the green light to go home. After two and a half weeks of inpatient hospital care, she was free to go. And go she did, shepherded home by my brother and I. She was so excited as we pulled into the yard. Her German Shepherd, Pepsi, was there to greet her. We unloaded the care and settled her in. After a few minutes, we were back on the road, eager to start a long trip back to our homes.
As I lay in my bed that night, I began to count my own blessings. Laying in my own comfy bed with Lucy snuggled beside me. A cold glass of water on the bedside table. Heat and shelter and food and clothes. My family and friends and health.
Yesterday at church, we spent time with the children and youth giving thanks for God's blessings. We automatically included family. It was easy for them to name the "things" that they were thankful for - MP3 players, cell phones, game systems and pets were at the top of their lists and rightly so. However, when I asked them to name stuff that they were thankful for that wasn't "stuff" at all, that slowed them down a bit. With a little prompting, the began to name their talents, abilities, friends and health.
I challenged them to count their blessings every day, including the things that didn't seem like blessings at the time. Those circumstances that reveal strength you didn't know you possessed. The times you saw God's strength when your strength was gone. Those moments of refinement when you can feel the fire. Our good friend, Job, told his wife "Are we to accept only good things from God and not bad?". Those are the things taht are harder to be thankful for; and yet God asks us to praise and worship Him for those things to.
As I approach this Thanksgiving, I am going to take time every day to thank God for the little things that make my life so sweet, three year old smiles and children's hugs, soft socks and puppy kisses. I encourage you to make some to count your simple blessings. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Friday, November 13, 2009
What?
I have an accent impairment. If you speak with an accent of any kind - Spanish, Italian, Indian, Canadian - I can't understand you. Living on the Plains for much of my life, I haven't had a lot of exposure to people that don't speak English. I grew up in predominantly Norwegian communities, so I can recognize their words. Not that this fact makes their conversations easier to understand.... guess I shouldn't go any further down that road!
I even struggle to understand small children. When my nephews were growing up and learning to talk, I often had to look to their parents for translation. I would ask them to repeat themselves until even the puppy knew what they were trying to say and I was still completely clueless.
Telemarketers who have the unfortunate task of calling me soon find that I am a lost cause. I think that there is probably a picture of me in a remote call center somewhere with the caption, "Yikes!!".
My inability to understand accents was brought home to me once again on Sunday evening as I struggled to hook up my wireless internet modem. I am not real computer savvy and I knew this task would be challenging. However, storm clouds began to form when I opened the instruction sheet and began to unfold the paper only to find it was the size of my bedspread! It contained words such as "ethernet", "components" and "flashing lights" and I knew I was in trouble.
I got to Step 4 without too many problems. Step 4 required me to hook the laptop up to the modem with a yellow cable and then.... well, I couldn't figure out the rest of the instructions. So I picked up the cordless phone and dialed support. God was with me and I didn't have to languish on hold at all. I was met with a cheery voice who said something that sounded like "Hello, may I show you something in a lemon yellow rain coat". I had reached a tech support associate who had a very thick Indian accent! That poor woman. Little did she know she would be spending the next hour trying to talk me through a procedure that I wouldn't have understood if she spoke perfect English and was standing right next to me. I immediately began to fast and pray!
While the wonderful, polite and patient associate tried to take me through the instructions step by step, I interrupted frequently to ask clarification. "Pardon me" "Could you please repeat that?" and "I'm sorry I didn't catch that last step" polka dotted the next sixty minutes. At one point, she asked me to find something that sounded very much to me like a "steak". Well, I saw nothing that looked remotely like a "steak" and resorted to my litany of "excuse me, could you please repeat that?" After a very long five minutes for both of us, I finally understood that she was asking me to locate the "switch". Poor, poor tech lady!
After some troubleshooting, we were able to get everything set up and I was surfing the net like a beach bum. She asked the final "is there anything else I can assist you with today?" and we both breathed a sigh of relief as we set down our respective phones.
I came to the conclusion on Sunday that whatever tech support staff earn, it's not enough. Working with people who are don't understand basic computer hardware, such as how to turn on their system would try the patience of even our good friend Job. You deserve an extra reward in heaven.
As for me, I'm thinking of checking out Rosetta Stone to see if they have some program that might help me. I have no idea what some of these languages would sound like with a North Dakota accent, but I'm not too worried. After all, almost every tongue has a phrase that means, "what?".
I even struggle to understand small children. When my nephews were growing up and learning to talk, I often had to look to their parents for translation. I would ask them to repeat themselves until even the puppy knew what they were trying to say and I was still completely clueless.
Telemarketers who have the unfortunate task of calling me soon find that I am a lost cause. I think that there is probably a picture of me in a remote call center somewhere with the caption, "Yikes!!".
My inability to understand accents was brought home to me once again on Sunday evening as I struggled to hook up my wireless internet modem. I am not real computer savvy and I knew this task would be challenging. However, storm clouds began to form when I opened the instruction sheet and began to unfold the paper only to find it was the size of my bedspread! It contained words such as "ethernet", "components" and "flashing lights" and I knew I was in trouble.
I got to Step 4 without too many problems. Step 4 required me to hook the laptop up to the modem with a yellow cable and then.... well, I couldn't figure out the rest of the instructions. So I picked up the cordless phone and dialed support. God was with me and I didn't have to languish on hold at all. I was met with a cheery voice who said something that sounded like "Hello, may I show you something in a lemon yellow rain coat". I had reached a tech support associate who had a very thick Indian accent! That poor woman. Little did she know she would be spending the next hour trying to talk me through a procedure that I wouldn't have understood if she spoke perfect English and was standing right next to me. I immediately began to fast and pray!
While the wonderful, polite and patient associate tried to take me through the instructions step by step, I interrupted frequently to ask clarification. "Pardon me" "Could you please repeat that?" and "I'm sorry I didn't catch that last step" polka dotted the next sixty minutes. At one point, she asked me to find something that sounded very much to me like a "steak". Well, I saw nothing that looked remotely like a "steak" and resorted to my litany of "excuse me, could you please repeat that?" After a very long five minutes for both of us, I finally understood that she was asking me to locate the "switch". Poor, poor tech lady!
After some troubleshooting, we were able to get everything set up and I was surfing the net like a beach bum. She asked the final "is there anything else I can assist you with today?" and we both breathed a sigh of relief as we set down our respective phones.
I came to the conclusion on Sunday that whatever tech support staff earn, it's not enough. Working with people who are don't understand basic computer hardware, such as how to turn on their system would try the patience of even our good friend Job. You deserve an extra reward in heaven.
As for me, I'm thinking of checking out Rosetta Stone to see if they have some program that might help me. I have no idea what some of these languages would sound like with a North Dakota accent, but I'm not too worried. After all, almost every tongue has a phrase that means, "what?".
Monday, October 26, 2009
Halloween
As a child, Halloween was only a tier lower than Christmas and my birthday as favorite holidays. (I know that my birthday isn't a holiday - yet) You get to dress up, wander around in the darkness and people give you free candy. What's not to like about that?!? My favorite is anything chocolate.
My brother and I would take a long look at the costumes on the racks at the big box stores, dreaming of the night that we would magically be transformed into Snow White (me) or Darth Vader (my brother). More often than not, my mother would create our costumes. The few times I can actually remember getting a "store bought" costume, the dumb plastic mask would suffocate and blind me and I couldn't wait to get it off.
An advantage of being a P.K. meant that before going out to trick or treat in town, dad would drive us out into the country to predesignated houses so parishioners could give us overfilled treat bags. This was in an age before Halloween was given much press or promotion. Before you had to take your candy to the hospital to get x-rayed before you could indulge. My parents checked our candy thoroughly to make sure it looked safe. Looking back on this now, I think they may have been scoping out our loot for an after bedtime heist. Just a theory....
As I roll my memory back through my Halloweens past, Halloween sticks out as milestones in my life.
Like the year that we moved November 1st. Halloween was a busy time for my mother as she packed up our belongings and got us ready for a new start. She must have been at a loss for costume ideas as was evidence of my completed costume. A box covered with an old tablecloth -- I showed up at the Halloween party as a cook book. Not a super cool costume for an 8th grader.My father was experiencing a rush of artistic talent the year my brother went as a headless man, complete with a suitcoat borrowed from my dad's closet. At least he was warm that year.
Living in the Northern Plains, you never knew what Halloween weather would bring. You may get to wear your pretty princess costume with a turtleneck or you would be wearing your parka unzipped, freezing, but determined that everyone would know you were a princess.
I haven't outgrown the love for Halloween. I have a party every year for children, youth and adults from my church. It gives me the opportunity to see my little ones dressed up. I'm sure that Ariel, the little mermaid and Hannah Montana will make an appearance. I also get to reaquaint myself with my neighbors and meet their grandchildren.
My costume ideas come from the Bible now and the kids get hints about the costume. The first to guess gets a prize. This year's costume is.... Well, maybe you can guess. I'm an Old Testament thing, mentioned in the first ten books of the bible. I'm mentioned in hymns. Anyone? My dog, Lucy, will be going as Duke, the Bushes baked beans dog. Monster is going as herself.
The origins of Halloween date back to the Druids and Celtic traditions of Samhain (pronounced sow-in), a festival celebrating the harvest and preparing for a time of winter. During this festival, people believed that the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead was very thin. It was a time to seek your future from fortune tellers. As time passed, many of these traditions were diluted and the pagan rites of the holiday were lost. When Irish settlers came to America to escape the potato famine, they brought many of their traditions and celebrations with them. More time passed and Halloween, like many other holidays became more commercialized as people took advantage of Halloween to have block parties and get together with the neighbors.
As a Christian, my ties to Hallween are very tenuous. I celebrate Halloween as a time to gather my family and friends for an evening of food, fun and fellowship. I encourage my children and youth to find costumes that are not scary. Halloween is a unique change to shine our light for Jesus through our conduct and witness.
I wish you all a Happy Halloween. If your close enough, stop by. I'm giving out treats sure to satisfy even the most discerning tastebuds. Be safe and say thank you at each house. Enjoy!
My brother and I would take a long look at the costumes on the racks at the big box stores, dreaming of the night that we would magically be transformed into Snow White (me) or Darth Vader (my brother). More often than not, my mother would create our costumes. The few times I can actually remember getting a "store bought" costume, the dumb plastic mask would suffocate and blind me and I couldn't wait to get it off.
An advantage of being a P.K. meant that before going out to trick or treat in town, dad would drive us out into the country to predesignated houses so parishioners could give us overfilled treat bags. This was in an age before Halloween was given much press or promotion. Before you had to take your candy to the hospital to get x-rayed before you could indulge. My parents checked our candy thoroughly to make sure it looked safe. Looking back on this now, I think they may have been scoping out our loot for an after bedtime heist. Just a theory....
As I roll my memory back through my Halloweens past, Halloween sticks out as milestones in my life.
Like the year that we moved November 1st. Halloween was a busy time for my mother as she packed up our belongings and got us ready for a new start. She must have been at a loss for costume ideas as was evidence of my completed costume. A box covered with an old tablecloth -- I showed up at the Halloween party as a cook book. Not a super cool costume for an 8th grader.My father was experiencing a rush of artistic talent the year my brother went as a headless man, complete with a suitcoat borrowed from my dad's closet. At least he was warm that year.
Living in the Northern Plains, you never knew what Halloween weather would bring. You may get to wear your pretty princess costume with a turtleneck or you would be wearing your parka unzipped, freezing, but determined that everyone would know you were a princess.
I haven't outgrown the love for Halloween. I have a party every year for children, youth and adults from my church. It gives me the opportunity to see my little ones dressed up. I'm sure that Ariel, the little mermaid and Hannah Montana will make an appearance. I also get to reaquaint myself with my neighbors and meet their grandchildren.
My costume ideas come from the Bible now and the kids get hints about the costume. The first to guess gets a prize. This year's costume is.... Well, maybe you can guess. I'm an Old Testament thing, mentioned in the first ten books of the bible. I'm mentioned in hymns. Anyone? My dog, Lucy, will be going as Duke, the Bushes baked beans dog. Monster is going as herself.
The origins of Halloween date back to the Druids and Celtic traditions of Samhain (pronounced sow-in), a festival celebrating the harvest and preparing for a time of winter. During this festival, people believed that the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead was very thin. It was a time to seek your future from fortune tellers. As time passed, many of these traditions were diluted and the pagan rites of the holiday were lost. When Irish settlers came to America to escape the potato famine, they brought many of their traditions and celebrations with them. More time passed and Halloween, like many other holidays became more commercialized as people took advantage of Halloween to have block parties and get together with the neighbors.
As a Christian, my ties to Hallween are very tenuous. I celebrate Halloween as a time to gather my family and friends for an evening of food, fun and fellowship. I encourage my children and youth to find costumes that are not scary. Halloween is a unique change to shine our light for Jesus through our conduct and witness.
I wish you all a Happy Halloween. If your close enough, stop by. I'm giving out treats sure to satisfy even the most discerning tastebuds. Be safe and say thank you at each house. Enjoy!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Unsung Heroes
The flu season has hit us hard in this corner of the world. Everyone knows someone who has been laid low by the coughing, sneezing, stuffy head and fever that announces "Hey, You have the flu!". I have so far (knock on wood) remained unscathed by this soon to be epidemic. My germophobic tendencies have kicked into high gear and I dread even a quick trip to WalMart.
Reports on the radio during my drive to work this morning spoke of hospitals restricting visitation and clinics overrun with people looking for relief from their symptoms. I stopped at a nearby convenience store on my way to the office to pick up some coffee and the lady at the counter was preaching a sermon to an unsuspecting customer about how this is a conspiracy with the health insurance companies. They want you to get a flu shot, which really is useless and then you have to pay more money for a doctor's visit and prescriptions. She also said that an employee had taken her young child to a walk-in clinic and everyone there was masked.
Now, I know that there has been lots of hype in the media about H1N1. They love to create panic and watch us run around like chickens with our heads cut off. However, I do know that for some people, the flu is serious business, not merely an inconvenience to be endured.
I have several friends who work in the health care field and this flu season has been tough on them. They deal with people who feel terrible who just want to get in and out of the clinic and pharmacy as quickly as possible. People can turn ugly pretty quickly when they are told that yes, there will be at least an hours' wait to see the doctor. After waiting two hours to see a physician, they really, really don't want to hear that their prescription will take 20 minutes to fill. If you ask them for their insurance card, you're likely to see a meltdown. Compound this if the patient is a child. The poor parents who haven't slept in two days have less patience than a two year old waiting for Christmas. You can't blame them. You can even sympathize with them. The situation is what you might call a perfect storm. The conditions are just right for bad things to happen.
It's tough to get an appointment with any doc, much less your primary caregiver. Don't argue with the scheduler. They can't schedule appointments when they are all full.
Walk-in clinics are flooded with flu cases along with their usual combo of aches, pains, headaches, etc. The staff at these clinics are open to abuses of many kinds as they ask people to mask if they are coughing, pay their copay and wait until they can be seen. And they are trying to keep from catching the very bugs that present themselves at their counter in droves! Most clinics have policy that they will see everyone who is registered by closing time. Talk about some serious overtime.
Pharmacy employees are trying to get their customers in and out as quickly as possible. However, filling a prescription takes time. Check allergies, check insurance, make sure that the script is filled accurately. A stop at the cash register. A complaint as to the cost of the medicine, which they have no control over. Next please.
There are so many people in our community that are working hard to see us through this flu season. Please be kind to them. A smile will go a long way to making their day a little easier. I know how grumpy you can get when you have to leave your bed to make a trip to the clinic with a fever of 100 degrees. So do the people in the trenches. They want you to be at home in bed as much as you do!
Reports on the radio during my drive to work this morning spoke of hospitals restricting visitation and clinics overrun with people looking for relief from their symptoms. I stopped at a nearby convenience store on my way to the office to pick up some coffee and the lady at the counter was preaching a sermon to an unsuspecting customer about how this is a conspiracy with the health insurance companies. They want you to get a flu shot, which really is useless and then you have to pay more money for a doctor's visit and prescriptions. She also said that an employee had taken her young child to a walk-in clinic and everyone there was masked.
Now, I know that there has been lots of hype in the media about H1N1. They love to create panic and watch us run around like chickens with our heads cut off. However, I do know that for some people, the flu is serious business, not merely an inconvenience to be endured.
I have several friends who work in the health care field and this flu season has been tough on them. They deal with people who feel terrible who just want to get in and out of the clinic and pharmacy as quickly as possible. People can turn ugly pretty quickly when they are told that yes, there will be at least an hours' wait to see the doctor. After waiting two hours to see a physician, they really, really don't want to hear that their prescription will take 20 minutes to fill. If you ask them for their insurance card, you're likely to see a meltdown. Compound this if the patient is a child. The poor parents who haven't slept in two days have less patience than a two year old waiting for Christmas. You can't blame them. You can even sympathize with them. The situation is what you might call a perfect storm. The conditions are just right for bad things to happen.
It's tough to get an appointment with any doc, much less your primary caregiver. Don't argue with the scheduler. They can't schedule appointments when they are all full.
Walk-in clinics are flooded with flu cases along with their usual combo of aches, pains, headaches, etc. The staff at these clinics are open to abuses of many kinds as they ask people to mask if they are coughing, pay their copay and wait until they can be seen. And they are trying to keep from catching the very bugs that present themselves at their counter in droves! Most clinics have policy that they will see everyone who is registered by closing time. Talk about some serious overtime.
Pharmacy employees are trying to get their customers in and out as quickly as possible. However, filling a prescription takes time. Check allergies, check insurance, make sure that the script is filled accurately. A stop at the cash register. A complaint as to the cost of the medicine, which they have no control over. Next please.
There are so many people in our community that are working hard to see us through this flu season. Please be kind to them. A smile will go a long way to making their day a little easier. I know how grumpy you can get when you have to leave your bed to make a trip to the clinic with a fever of 100 degrees. So do the people in the trenches. They want you to be at home in bed as much as you do!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Outbreak
H1N1 has now entered the vocabulary of everyone over the age of five. What started out as the "swine flu", causing mass slaughters of all the pigs in Egypt, became the more policitically correct H1N1 virus. You can't turn on the radio or television, pick up a paper or log in online without being inundated with information and statistics on the pandemic.
Being "germophobic", I have been watching this develop with much intrepidation. I have a frail immune system and seem to be catching germ du jour every other month. I won't say that it's really bad, but my doctor just called me to see how I am feeling as he is planning a cruise and would like to upgrade to a king-sized suite. Working with children and youth have always been a challenge as kids tend to suffer from twice as many bugs as adults. I do my best to stay healthy by handwashing, getting enough sleep and buying hand sanitizer by the barrel. However, H1N1 has me worried.
This weekend, I was supposed to be road tripping with my youth group to our annual Senior High Conference youth event in lovely Mitchell, South Dakota. With schools closing due to illness and the virus being everywhere, we had to cancel the trip. Offering bowling as a substitute for a weekend of fun, friends and meeting new friends, we were able to make up a small part of the disappointment they felt. However, they themselves have been related stories of classmates out with H1N1 for two or three weeks at a time.
H1N1, in my opinion, combines many symptoms that are merely miserable to make a sickness that is truly terrible. Take all of the aches and respiratory symptoms of the seasonal flu and add the gastrointestinal experiences of the stomache bug and you have a truly brutal virus that can drop any young, toug high school football player and send us all to bed.
All of these things were magnified for me this week as I, too, have been under the weather. Saturday, I came down with some ugly stomache bug that took until Wednesday to truly shake. Add a sinus infection and I was knew that it was time for some real medicine.
Getting a doctor's appointment was much harder than normal. I couldn't get in to my primary caregiver as he was completely full. As a matter of fact, even his add-on appointments were full. The scheduler told me that I could go to the walk-in clinic. While she was speaking, visions of the movie Outbreak were dancing in my head. Especially the scene where the man is coughing in the crowded movie theater and as the droplets flew into the air, you knew that everyone in the theater was toast.
I was finally able to secure an appointment for the next day. As I walked in to the clinic to hand over half my paycheck and register, hand sanitizer bottles and masks greeted me. The ladies sitting at the registration desks on the front line were cheerful. I tried hard not to cough as the masks are not an amazing fashion statement and people treat you like Typhoid Mary. I found if I breathed shallow breathes that I could avoid coughing. I must have been the color of a smurf by the time I got to the waiting room.
It was early and there was only one other patient in the large room. After careful scrutiny, I decided that, although he didn't look terminally ill, I wasn't taking any chances and found a chair on the other side of the room. I once again resumed my shallow breathing to avoid the blue mask of infection and waited for my name to be called. By some divine miracle, the nurse came to rescue me from the waiting room in short order and, after a terrifying layover at the scale, I was put in a room. The nurse actually gave me permission to cough after taking my temperature with that goofy ear thermometer which registered 95 degrees. Not too accurate in my opinion.
The doctor came in mid-cough and stood across the room from me during his entire examination. After confirming that I did indeed have a sinus infection, he asked me which antibiotic I preferred. In only four minutes, I was off to the elevator clutching scripts for expensive drugs to further tax the already overwhelmed health care system.
I have gotten my seasonal flu shot last week and will be in line for an H1N1 vaccination as soon as possible. I will cut down on my trips to places that host large crowds such as the local discount stores and the mall. Call me what you will, but my hope is that I can avoid this viral experience. I pray health for all of you. Get your sleep, wash your hands and stay home from work and church if you do get sick. Prepare for the worst and stock up on soup, soda and toilet paper. My parents said that they bought extra just in case. Good luck, fellow germ carriers!
Being "germophobic", I have been watching this develop with much intrepidation. I have a frail immune system and seem to be catching germ du jour every other month. I won't say that it's really bad, but my doctor just called me to see how I am feeling as he is planning a cruise and would like to upgrade to a king-sized suite. Working with children and youth have always been a challenge as kids tend to suffer from twice as many bugs as adults. I do my best to stay healthy by handwashing, getting enough sleep and buying hand sanitizer by the barrel. However, H1N1 has me worried.
This weekend, I was supposed to be road tripping with my youth group to our annual Senior High Conference youth event in lovely Mitchell, South Dakota. With schools closing due to illness and the virus being everywhere, we had to cancel the trip. Offering bowling as a substitute for a weekend of fun, friends and meeting new friends, we were able to make up a small part of the disappointment they felt. However, they themselves have been related stories of classmates out with H1N1 for two or three weeks at a time.
H1N1, in my opinion, combines many symptoms that are merely miserable to make a sickness that is truly terrible. Take all of the aches and respiratory symptoms of the seasonal flu and add the gastrointestinal experiences of the stomache bug and you have a truly brutal virus that can drop any young, toug high school football player and send us all to bed.
All of these things were magnified for me this week as I, too, have been under the weather. Saturday, I came down with some ugly stomache bug that took until Wednesday to truly shake. Add a sinus infection and I was knew that it was time for some real medicine.
Getting a doctor's appointment was much harder than normal. I couldn't get in to my primary caregiver as he was completely full. As a matter of fact, even his add-on appointments were full. The scheduler told me that I could go to the walk-in clinic. While she was speaking, visions of the movie Outbreak were dancing in my head. Especially the scene where the man is coughing in the crowded movie theater and as the droplets flew into the air, you knew that everyone in the theater was toast.
I was finally able to secure an appointment for the next day. As I walked in to the clinic to hand over half my paycheck and register, hand sanitizer bottles and masks greeted me. The ladies sitting at the registration desks on the front line were cheerful. I tried hard not to cough as the masks are not an amazing fashion statement and people treat you like Typhoid Mary. I found if I breathed shallow breathes that I could avoid coughing. I must have been the color of a smurf by the time I got to the waiting room.
It was early and there was only one other patient in the large room. After careful scrutiny, I decided that, although he didn't look terminally ill, I wasn't taking any chances and found a chair on the other side of the room. I once again resumed my shallow breathing to avoid the blue mask of infection and waited for my name to be called. By some divine miracle, the nurse came to rescue me from the waiting room in short order and, after a terrifying layover at the scale, I was put in a room. The nurse actually gave me permission to cough after taking my temperature with that goofy ear thermometer which registered 95 degrees. Not too accurate in my opinion.
The doctor came in mid-cough and stood across the room from me during his entire examination. After confirming that I did indeed have a sinus infection, he asked me which antibiotic I preferred. In only four minutes, I was off to the elevator clutching scripts for expensive drugs to further tax the already overwhelmed health care system.
I have gotten my seasonal flu shot last week and will be in line for an H1N1 vaccination as soon as possible. I will cut down on my trips to places that host large crowds such as the local discount stores and the mall. Call me what you will, but my hope is that I can avoid this viral experience. I pray health for all of you. Get your sleep, wash your hands and stay home from work and church if you do get sick. Prepare for the worst and stock up on soup, soda and toilet paper. My parents said that they bought extra just in case. Good luck, fellow germ carriers!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Autumn Activities
Although my calendar indicated that fall began on September 22nd, it really didn't show up until yesterday. It's pretty amazing to me how quickly the weather changes on the prairies. On Saturday, I had the air conditioning humming as I baked and cooked for my supper company. Sunday found me bumping up the thermostat so I could combat the windy, cool weather. Welcome to North Dakota Autumn!
Autumn tends to be anyone's guess here on the Plains. We could enjoy a long, beautiful view of the changing leaves or we go directly from shorts to parkas. No middle ground. Fall isn't my favorite season, as it points to winter, which I can honestly say is my least favorite of the three seasons we enjoy here.
I have noticed since late August that the days are getting shorter. It's so much harder to pull yourself out of the nest in the morning when it's dark outside. Even Lucy, the puppy, has better sense than to be up before dawn. I know that I possess plant-like tendencies - I really need the natural light and I really like it when people talk to me routinely. Getting up in the dark, leaving the house for work in the dark and coming home in the darkness is such drudgery. Many people in this part of the country struggle with SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's no wonder that people get depressed when you have only eight hours of daylight each day and all of those are spent looking out your office window.
Another fall tradition that grows weary is the Christmas displays that come right on the tail of Halloween. I'm not a grinch. I love Christmas - the lights, the family and the nativity. However, why can't we wait until after Thanksgiving before putting up the display trees and advertising Christmas bargains. Extending the holidays to profit from the holiday brings a very anticlimatic feeling come December 25th.
Flu season arrives about the time that October rolls around. We never stopped seaonal flu cases in our area, and now we are being asked to get not one, but two vaccinations - one for the seasonal flu and one for the H1N1 (swine flu). Knock on wood, I haven't suffered from the flu for a couple of years. I recently spoke with an older gentleman from my church who described his bout of flu and said that at one point he was afraid that he wouldn't die! Add nausea, vomiting and, to put it gently, lower G.I. symptoms, and you would hope that Jesus comes back really soon! Our youth group had to cancel our annual trip to the Senior High event in South Dakota as the reality set in that getting stricken kids home six hours in a car could be a very long trip for everyone! That doesn't take into consideration that the chaperone/driver (i.e. me) could catch this bug and have to drive home six hours in a car. I have stocked up on Germ-X and trying to avoid people who look sick.
There are plenty of things about fall I enjoy. Papa's Pumpkin Patch is a wonderful place - you and your children can play on the haybale stacks, wander through the thousands of pumpkins for sale and watch the pumpkin cannon hurl the pumpkins toward a huge bale target. Lucy and I are going to get our pictures taken at the Patch on Sunday as part of the Humane Society's fundraiser. I enjoy Halloween parties and a chance to dress up. Really, as adults we don't have a lot of opportunities to wear costumes. What a shame. I enjoy playing cards in the evening and watching a fire.
I hope that enjoy our two week of Autumn. Get out and walk through the crunchy leaves. Carve a pumpkin. Jump on a hayride, if you can. Before you know it, the meteorologists will be using curse words like wind chill and frostbite!
Autumn tends to be anyone's guess here on the Plains. We could enjoy a long, beautiful view of the changing leaves or we go directly from shorts to parkas. No middle ground. Fall isn't my favorite season, as it points to winter, which I can honestly say is my least favorite of the three seasons we enjoy here.
I have noticed since late August that the days are getting shorter. It's so much harder to pull yourself out of the nest in the morning when it's dark outside. Even Lucy, the puppy, has better sense than to be up before dawn. I know that I possess plant-like tendencies - I really need the natural light and I really like it when people talk to me routinely. Getting up in the dark, leaving the house for work in the dark and coming home in the darkness is such drudgery. Many people in this part of the country struggle with SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's no wonder that people get depressed when you have only eight hours of daylight each day and all of those are spent looking out your office window.
Another fall tradition that grows weary is the Christmas displays that come right on the tail of Halloween. I'm not a grinch. I love Christmas - the lights, the family and the nativity. However, why can't we wait until after Thanksgiving before putting up the display trees and advertising Christmas bargains. Extending the holidays to profit from the holiday brings a very anticlimatic feeling come December 25th.
Flu season arrives about the time that October rolls around. We never stopped seaonal flu cases in our area, and now we are being asked to get not one, but two vaccinations - one for the seasonal flu and one for the H1N1 (swine flu). Knock on wood, I haven't suffered from the flu for a couple of years. I recently spoke with an older gentleman from my church who described his bout of flu and said that at one point he was afraid that he wouldn't die! Add nausea, vomiting and, to put it gently, lower G.I. symptoms, and you would hope that Jesus comes back really soon! Our youth group had to cancel our annual trip to the Senior High event in South Dakota as the reality set in that getting stricken kids home six hours in a car could be a very long trip for everyone! That doesn't take into consideration that the chaperone/driver (i.e. me) could catch this bug and have to drive home six hours in a car. I have stocked up on Germ-X and trying to avoid people who look sick.
There are plenty of things about fall I enjoy. Papa's Pumpkin Patch is a wonderful place - you and your children can play on the haybale stacks, wander through the thousands of pumpkins for sale and watch the pumpkin cannon hurl the pumpkins toward a huge bale target. Lucy and I are going to get our pictures taken at the Patch on Sunday as part of the Humane Society's fundraiser. I enjoy Halloween parties and a chance to dress up. Really, as adults we don't have a lot of opportunities to wear costumes. What a shame. I enjoy playing cards in the evening and watching a fire.
I hope that enjoy our two week of Autumn. Get out and walk through the crunchy leaves. Carve a pumpkin. Jump on a hayride, if you can. Before you know it, the meteorologists will be using curse words like wind chill and frostbite!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Stupid Questions and Quick Comebacks
One of the joys of working with youth is that there is never a shortage of laughter. They are pretty funny people. Their observations tend to be skewed by their inexperience, but it's almost always good for a laugh. Teenagers are also the masters of a good comeback. Their timing is usually impeccable and it comes at time when the mood is getting way too somber for teens.
This became very evident to me over Labor Day Weekend at our Youth Group Retreat. Nothing bonds a group more than spending every waking moment with each other, eating, not sleeping, talking and eating some more. Sleep deprivation adds a certain element to every comment, question and comeback that enhances the "funny" quotient and makes ordinary things the most hilarious situation you've ever come upon.
Not to say that my family provides a lack of humor. My family get-togethers, while too far and far between, usually include late night card games. We begin the competition ready to wage battle and it almost always deteriorates to tears as we laugh so hard that soda comes out someone's nose (usually mine).
Anyway, this Labor Day weekend left me thanking God once again for job that allows me to spend time with teenagers. It really keeps you humble. You can't get too cocky when the kids are telling stories about your hair being so scary that it terrified three obnoxious seventh grade boys and made them scream like little girls.
The first night of any trip is a complete sleep loss as you try to quiet excited kids and "make" them go to sleep. No one can make anyone go to sleep. The best you can hope for is silent. Teenagers will try anything to keep you from knowing they are awake and doing things you would prefer they didn't. It was during this first night, somewhere around 3 a.m. that I started to think about stupid questions that no one should ever ask... or worse yet, answer.
Stupid Question #1 - Do I look stupid? OK, well.... um... yeah. Never ask this question, especially to teenagers. They will have a good answer and you won't like it.
Stupid Question #1A - How stupid do I look? Do you really want to know? I don't think so.
Stupid Question #2 - Do I look like I was born yesterday? Well, obviously not. I don't color my hair for no reason at all.
Stupid Question #3 - Do you expect me to believe that? Yes, or they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of making it up.
As the weekend progressed, we tackled some pretty deep issues for a teenage mind. At one point, I was confronted by one of my biggest pet peeves - the cracking of joints, necks, etc. I made the comment that this drives me crazy. At this point, one of the boys asked, "can I come?", which was followed closely by "shotgun"! I guess the second teenage boy was hoping to get the front passenger seat.
While working as a Pharmacy Technician at a hospital, we often had students rotate through our department. This was where the rubber met the road. Time to turn book learning into practical experience. These students were always good for a laugh. After spending several minutes trying to calculate a dosage of potassium chloride for a patient, the student presented their recommendation to the pharmacist. The pharmacist looked at the dosage and declared, deadpan "this is great.... if you want the patient to die." Of course, this would seem morbid to those who don't work in a high stress environment. It was clearly a teaching moment.
Life is tough. Some situations have no humor in them. There are days that seem so heavy with burden that it takes effort just to stand up straight. God knows this. When things look the bleakest, look around you. You can fun laughter in the smallest things. God has left that for you to find, knowing that you would need it.
Help someone else find laughter in their day today. It will be a gift to them and to you. I am blessed, as God has created my life in such a way that I am never at a shortage of material. I mean, look at me -- scary hair, sleep deprivation. If that can't get a laugh, nothing will.
This became very evident to me over Labor Day Weekend at our Youth Group Retreat. Nothing bonds a group more than spending every waking moment with each other, eating, not sleeping, talking and eating some more. Sleep deprivation adds a certain element to every comment, question and comeback that enhances the "funny" quotient and makes ordinary things the most hilarious situation you've ever come upon.
Not to say that my family provides a lack of humor. My family get-togethers, while too far and far between, usually include late night card games. We begin the competition ready to wage battle and it almost always deteriorates to tears as we laugh so hard that soda comes out someone's nose (usually mine).
Anyway, this Labor Day weekend left me thanking God once again for job that allows me to spend time with teenagers. It really keeps you humble. You can't get too cocky when the kids are telling stories about your hair being so scary that it terrified three obnoxious seventh grade boys and made them scream like little girls.
The first night of any trip is a complete sleep loss as you try to quiet excited kids and "make" them go to sleep. No one can make anyone go to sleep. The best you can hope for is silent. Teenagers will try anything to keep you from knowing they are awake and doing things you would prefer they didn't. It was during this first night, somewhere around 3 a.m. that I started to think about stupid questions that no one should ever ask... or worse yet, answer.
Stupid Question #1 - Do I look stupid? OK, well.... um... yeah. Never ask this question, especially to teenagers. They will have a good answer and you won't like it.
Stupid Question #1A - How stupid do I look? Do you really want to know? I don't think so.
Stupid Question #2 - Do I look like I was born yesterday? Well, obviously not. I don't color my hair for no reason at all.
Stupid Question #3 - Do you expect me to believe that? Yes, or they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of making it up.
As the weekend progressed, we tackled some pretty deep issues for a teenage mind. At one point, I was confronted by one of my biggest pet peeves - the cracking of joints, necks, etc. I made the comment that this drives me crazy. At this point, one of the boys asked, "can I come?", which was followed closely by "shotgun"! I guess the second teenage boy was hoping to get the front passenger seat.
While working as a Pharmacy Technician at a hospital, we often had students rotate through our department. This was where the rubber met the road. Time to turn book learning into practical experience. These students were always good for a laugh. After spending several minutes trying to calculate a dosage of potassium chloride for a patient, the student presented their recommendation to the pharmacist. The pharmacist looked at the dosage and declared, deadpan "this is great.... if you want the patient to die." Of course, this would seem morbid to those who don't work in a high stress environment. It was clearly a teaching moment.
Life is tough. Some situations have no humor in them. There are days that seem so heavy with burden that it takes effort just to stand up straight. God knows this. When things look the bleakest, look around you. You can fun laughter in the smallest things. God has left that for you to find, knowing that you would need it.
Help someone else find laughter in their day today. It will be a gift to them and to you. I am blessed, as God has created my life in such a way that I am never at a shortage of material. I mean, look at me -- scary hair, sleep deprivation. If that can't get a laugh, nothing will.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Life as PK
There is a popular myth being circulated about Pks (aka Preacher's Kids). I'm sure that you have heard it - they have a wild side. Looks are deceiving - they may be starched and in the front pew listening intently to every word that their pastor parent speaks. Get them out of their church clothes, however, and it's a different story.
Well, I'm hear to partially debunk that myth. I can speak from 38 years of being a preacher's kid that every PK is different. We don't all have a sudden urge to test out of firestarting techniques in the back of the sanctuary. We don't have hot tub parties in the baptismal font -- OK, well I'm Methodist and we don't baptize by submersion. But I still wouldn't have a hot tub party. As my father would say, we Methodists like to let our hair down, but we are pretty short haired people.
Living with a minister in the house does tend to give their children a slightly different upbringing than other children. Not good or bad, just different. I know how to take complete phone messages from time I was in kindergarten. Name of person, message, phone number, time of call. I have been to more marriage counseling sessions than most married people.
Death was a common theme in our house. There were frequent funerals and I could recognizethe sound of the funeral director's voice on the phone. Police showing up at the front door in the middle of the night meant that I knew before someone else's family knew that a loved one had tragically died. My father was a young minister during the end of the Vietnam War and we did have "army men" show up to ask my father to accompany them to a family's house to give them a death notification.
I grew up nourished on pot luck dinner and funeral lunch left overs. I know that you have not truly mourned until you have eaten an open faced cheese whiz sandwich with a piece of green olive on the top. I consider hamburger hotdish and jello comfort foods. Funeral sandwiches would often show up on the lunch table and we enjoyed the left over cake from the funeral lunch.
Everything was not always leftovers and Christmas cookies. Being a Pastor's family meant that you were always held under the microscope. If you left too many lights on in the house, you were wasting church money because they paid the utility bill. You lived in a house you did not own and white walls with brown carpet are a universal color scheme. You can't walk on the carpet in high heels. As a PK, you knew that if your father stopped his sermon to look at you, you'd better pray that Jesus came back before the benediction or you were toast!
People that go to church are just like any other group of people. Some of them are nice and some of them are not. For some reason that has alluded me, people think that the staff at church can be used as target practice. Someone will start a rumor, voice a disapproval or point out a fault and away you go. There are meetings and letters, phone calls and gossip. Pretty soon you start to avoid people on your way to get the mail. You are not quite sure who your friends are, or even if a pastor can have friends that are also parisioners.
And yet, when someone dies or a tragedy strikes, you pick up the phone and call your Pastor. And they come. Your expectations are always higher of your parsonage family than your own family. You expect them to forgive and forget, work tirelessly on any church project, visit the sick and those in prison, feed the hungry, be kind to everyone and always have the answers to life's hardest questions.
I don't mean to rant about church people. There people are those that I consider some of my closest friends. I have shared their table for holidays and have been invited to family events. I get to share in their largest triumphs and their darkest moments. I consider it a privilege to share this season with them.
I grew up knowing that death was a part of life and that there are things in life worse than death. I understood that by inviting those who would be alone for the holidays to break bread with you, you were giving them a wonderful gift. My family is closer for all of the moves that brought us to a new place, a new home and a new church family. Knowing Vaughn was right down the hall in a classroom full of strangers made me braver as I faced a similar classroom. We both knew that the world was bigger than that little corner of the world.
Pastor Appreciation month is in October. Please take some time to think about how you can encourage your pastor and their family. They have made the decision to serve the Lord where they are sent and your affirmation makes that path a little easier to trod. Remember that they are human and suceptible to weakness and doubt. Lift them up to the Lord in prayer and ask for God's wisdom as they face difficult decisions every day. Love them as family. Forgive them as Jesus taught. Those would be the greatest gifts.
Well, I'm hear to partially debunk that myth. I can speak from 38 years of being a preacher's kid that every PK is different. We don't all have a sudden urge to test out of firestarting techniques in the back of the sanctuary. We don't have hot tub parties in the baptismal font -- OK, well I'm Methodist and we don't baptize by submersion. But I still wouldn't have a hot tub party. As my father would say, we Methodists like to let our hair down, but we are pretty short haired people.
Living with a minister in the house does tend to give their children a slightly different upbringing than other children. Not good or bad, just different. I know how to take complete phone messages from time I was in kindergarten. Name of person, message, phone number, time of call. I have been to more marriage counseling sessions than most married people.
Death was a common theme in our house. There were frequent funerals and I could recognizethe sound of the funeral director's voice on the phone. Police showing up at the front door in the middle of the night meant that I knew before someone else's family knew that a loved one had tragically died. My father was a young minister during the end of the Vietnam War and we did have "army men" show up to ask my father to accompany them to a family's house to give them a death notification.
I grew up nourished on pot luck dinner and funeral lunch left overs. I know that you have not truly mourned until you have eaten an open faced cheese whiz sandwich with a piece of green olive on the top. I consider hamburger hotdish and jello comfort foods. Funeral sandwiches would often show up on the lunch table and we enjoyed the left over cake from the funeral lunch.
Everything was not always leftovers and Christmas cookies. Being a Pastor's family meant that you were always held under the microscope. If you left too many lights on in the house, you were wasting church money because they paid the utility bill. You lived in a house you did not own and white walls with brown carpet are a universal color scheme. You can't walk on the carpet in high heels. As a PK, you knew that if your father stopped his sermon to look at you, you'd better pray that Jesus came back before the benediction or you were toast!
People that go to church are just like any other group of people. Some of them are nice and some of them are not. For some reason that has alluded me, people think that the staff at church can be used as target practice. Someone will start a rumor, voice a disapproval or point out a fault and away you go. There are meetings and letters, phone calls and gossip. Pretty soon you start to avoid people on your way to get the mail. You are not quite sure who your friends are, or even if a pastor can have friends that are also parisioners.
And yet, when someone dies or a tragedy strikes, you pick up the phone and call your Pastor. And they come. Your expectations are always higher of your parsonage family than your own family. You expect them to forgive and forget, work tirelessly on any church project, visit the sick and those in prison, feed the hungry, be kind to everyone and always have the answers to life's hardest questions.
I don't mean to rant about church people. There people are those that I consider some of my closest friends. I have shared their table for holidays and have been invited to family events. I get to share in their largest triumphs and their darkest moments. I consider it a privilege to share this season with them.
I grew up knowing that death was a part of life and that there are things in life worse than death. I understood that by inviting those who would be alone for the holidays to break bread with you, you were giving them a wonderful gift. My family is closer for all of the moves that brought us to a new place, a new home and a new church family. Knowing Vaughn was right down the hall in a classroom full of strangers made me braver as I faced a similar classroom. We both knew that the world was bigger than that little corner of the world.
Pastor Appreciation month is in October. Please take some time to think about how you can encourage your pastor and their family. They have made the decision to serve the Lord where they are sent and your affirmation makes that path a little easier to trod. Remember that they are human and suceptible to weakness and doubt. Lift them up to the Lord in prayer and ask for God's wisdom as they face difficult decisions every day. Love them as family. Forgive them as Jesus taught. Those would be the greatest gifts.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Packing Up
I am, once again, packing my bags. The Youth Group will be leaving for their annual Labor Day Retreat this Saturday. Our destination is about an hour from home. We will return home on Monday before lunch. Just enough time to do laundry, catch up on my sleep and nap before bedtime.
Part of the preparation for any youth group trip begins with a letter sent to parents and youth. This packet includes permission forms, emergency contact numbers and a packing list. This packing list is always detailed and helps guide the youth and their folks as they decide what to bring along. The list may contain such items as a jacket (we live in North Dakota and should be prepared for snow at any time), personal hygiene items (please shower while we are gone!) and miscellaneous paraphenalia for whatever adventure we are embarking upon.
You can always tell when Moms have been packing. The youth is wrinkle free, always has enough socks and underwear to wait out the Great Tribulation and a ziplock for their toothbrush. You can also spot those who have packed for themselves. A teenage boys may have a large bag of skittles, an extra shirt and their MP3 player. This youth is going to spend the ride home deflecting comments about having to go "commando" for the weekend.
Teenage girls, on the other hand, tend to pack as though we are going to a remote artic substation for several months. Four pairs of shoes, seventeen outfits and a make up bag that has comes on wheels. No, just kidding.... only 15 outfits.
You can tell alot about someone by the way they pack. Are they carefree? I once had a roommate that would slip a toothbrush in her purse and leave for a weeks' vacation. Are they a mom? They pack for every contingency including famine, plague and an outbreak of malaria? God bless them. They will have extra tissues, mints and a cache of extra socks.
I am a list maker and I have packing list. This list contains a good cross-section of possible scenarios. I have frozen in the middle of July from overzealous air conditioning. Unexpected torrential rainfall has made a weekend of outdoor concerts sauna-like. When I go on the retreat, the make-up bag does not get packed. Foundation, power and mascara are useless to hide the fact that I got two hours of sleep. As a matter of fact, applying mascara while sleep deprivated can be downright dangerous.
When we all gather in the church parking lot with our baggage piled up, a new challenge faces us. How do we get all this stuff into our vehicles?!? Remember that the drivers must have a clear view out their rear windows. The sleeping bags and air mattresses can pose a paticular problem. Sometimes we must load some of the kids first and "pack" around them. And somehow it always fits. However... at the end of the weekend, when you go to repack for the jounrey home, all of the stuff has expanded. It won't fit back into it's original containment device - ie. suitcase, sleeping bag cover, etc.
When I arrive back home, I like to unpack right away and get the washer started. After packing, lugging my bag around all weekend, repacking it and finally unpacking it, I always resolve to pack lighter for the next trip. It's never happened. When Jesus comes back in the clouds to call His believers home and we are taken in the blink of an eye, I will not have to pack. Everything I need will be in heaven with Him. A size four robe will fit perfectly and my only agenda item will be worship.
Until then, I'd better throw in the bug spray, sunscreen and another couple pairs of socks.
Part of the preparation for any youth group trip begins with a letter sent to parents and youth. This packet includes permission forms, emergency contact numbers and a packing list. This packing list is always detailed and helps guide the youth and their folks as they decide what to bring along. The list may contain such items as a jacket (we live in North Dakota and should be prepared for snow at any time), personal hygiene items (please shower while we are gone!) and miscellaneous paraphenalia for whatever adventure we are embarking upon.
You can always tell when Moms have been packing. The youth is wrinkle free, always has enough socks and underwear to wait out the Great Tribulation and a ziplock for their toothbrush. You can also spot those who have packed for themselves. A teenage boys may have a large bag of skittles, an extra shirt and their MP3 player. This youth is going to spend the ride home deflecting comments about having to go "commando" for the weekend.
Teenage girls, on the other hand, tend to pack as though we are going to a remote artic substation for several months. Four pairs of shoes, seventeen outfits and a make up bag that has comes on wheels. No, just kidding.... only 15 outfits.
You can tell alot about someone by the way they pack. Are they carefree? I once had a roommate that would slip a toothbrush in her purse and leave for a weeks' vacation. Are they a mom? They pack for every contingency including famine, plague and an outbreak of malaria? God bless them. They will have extra tissues, mints and a cache of extra socks.
I am a list maker and I have packing list. This list contains a good cross-section of possible scenarios. I have frozen in the middle of July from overzealous air conditioning. Unexpected torrential rainfall has made a weekend of outdoor concerts sauna-like. When I go on the retreat, the make-up bag does not get packed. Foundation, power and mascara are useless to hide the fact that I got two hours of sleep. As a matter of fact, applying mascara while sleep deprivated can be downright dangerous.
When we all gather in the church parking lot with our baggage piled up, a new challenge faces us. How do we get all this stuff into our vehicles?!? Remember that the drivers must have a clear view out their rear windows. The sleeping bags and air mattresses can pose a paticular problem. Sometimes we must load some of the kids first and "pack" around them. And somehow it always fits. However... at the end of the weekend, when you go to repack for the jounrey home, all of the stuff has expanded. It won't fit back into it's original containment device - ie. suitcase, sleeping bag cover, etc.
When I arrive back home, I like to unpack right away and get the washer started. After packing, lugging my bag around all weekend, repacking it and finally unpacking it, I always resolve to pack lighter for the next trip. It's never happened. When Jesus comes back in the clouds to call His believers home and we are taken in the blink of an eye, I will not have to pack. Everything I need will be in heaven with Him. A size four robe will fit perfectly and my only agenda item will be worship.
Until then, I'd better throw in the bug spray, sunscreen and another couple pairs of socks.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Back To School
In the next few days, kids from this neck of the woods will be walking into those hallowed halls of learning. I don't have children of my own, but I know lots of children - my nephews and the kids at the church and many of them are not happy about this development. Where did summer go? Only three months ago, summer lay out before them like a carpet. Months of free time to sleep late, stay up late, show up late for supper and generally be carefree. Already the alarms are set and bedtime has reared it's ugly head. Parents are trying to get kids back "into a routine". To this I quote a well know poet, "Rage against the dying of the light!"
I have noticed that when my alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m., it's barely sunrise. It was so much easier to face the day when the sun greeted you in the morning. Now I have to crawl out of the nest while it's still night time. Not fair. Oh, but I digress...
The back-to-school sales have been going strong since mid-July and the big box store I visited last week had nary a stapler left for the stragglers. I used to love buying school supplies. Ok, truth be told, I still love buying school supplies. Fresh new pens, blank notebooks ready for your most profound thoughts and mindless doodles. My mother would take me school shopping for clothes and shoes as I had "grown like a weed" over the summer. I loved the thought of wearing my new outfits to school and being in fashion for a week or two before styles changed again.
Most kids really love their backpacks. They can't wait to choose their back ornaments for a new year. Will it be Hannah Montana, Spiderman or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? The choices are endless. Backpacks have gone hi-tech since I was a kid. Now they have handles and wheels to roll them along so as not to cripple the small child schlepping their homework home. Super cool!
This time of year always makes me want to put on sweaters and go to football games. I was a varsity football cheerleader in high school and always enjoyed cheering on the crisp fall Friday nights. I've taken in a couple of Mandan High School football games and they are fun. Homecoming is the best. The handsome Homecoming King and beautiful Homecoming Queen mark out at half-time. He's usually in his football jersey and she's in a dress that much to tiny for the cool fall weather.
I remember my first day of kindergarten. I was excited and scared as we walked into the big building filled with big people and big kids. I was nervous about getting lost, eating lunch in the cafeteria and finding my way home. By the end of the first week, I was a pro. I knew which water fountain had the coolest water and what side of the playground we could safely play on without getting trampled by the huge sixth graders.
Now that I'm a little older, I love to watch the first day of school scene. The child, excited and nervous, dressed in new jeans and looking very small. The parents , excited and nervous, looking very large in a hallway full of elementary aged children. The parents linger outside the building after they have dropped off their children, just in case. In only 13 short years, those children will be taller than their parents, dressed in a cap and gown. Enjoy those thirteen years. Even the calls in the middle of the morning from the school asking you to retrieve an ill child. Those years will go too quickly.
Drive safely as the children run across the street to greet their friends after a long summer. Watch out for the teary parent as they pull away from the curb after dropping off their baby. Be careful of our new crop of drivers as they navigate the city streets and the high school parking lots. Take a good look, it'll pass in a blink.
I have noticed that when my alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m., it's barely sunrise. It was so much easier to face the day when the sun greeted you in the morning. Now I have to crawl out of the nest while it's still night time. Not fair. Oh, but I digress...
The back-to-school sales have been going strong since mid-July and the big box store I visited last week had nary a stapler left for the stragglers. I used to love buying school supplies. Ok, truth be told, I still love buying school supplies. Fresh new pens, blank notebooks ready for your most profound thoughts and mindless doodles. My mother would take me school shopping for clothes and shoes as I had "grown like a weed" over the summer. I loved the thought of wearing my new outfits to school and being in fashion for a week or two before styles changed again.
Most kids really love their backpacks. They can't wait to choose their back ornaments for a new year. Will it be Hannah Montana, Spiderman or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? The choices are endless. Backpacks have gone hi-tech since I was a kid. Now they have handles and wheels to roll them along so as not to cripple the small child schlepping their homework home. Super cool!
This time of year always makes me want to put on sweaters and go to football games. I was a varsity football cheerleader in high school and always enjoyed cheering on the crisp fall Friday nights. I've taken in a couple of Mandan High School football games and they are fun. Homecoming is the best. The handsome Homecoming King and beautiful Homecoming Queen mark out at half-time. He's usually in his football jersey and she's in a dress that much to tiny for the cool fall weather.
I remember my first day of kindergarten. I was excited and scared as we walked into the big building filled with big people and big kids. I was nervous about getting lost, eating lunch in the cafeteria and finding my way home. By the end of the first week, I was a pro. I knew which water fountain had the coolest water and what side of the playground we could safely play on without getting trampled by the huge sixth graders.
Now that I'm a little older, I love to watch the first day of school scene. The child, excited and nervous, dressed in new jeans and looking very small. The parents , excited and nervous, looking very large in a hallway full of elementary aged children. The parents linger outside the building after they have dropped off their children, just in case. In only 13 short years, those children will be taller than their parents, dressed in a cap and gown. Enjoy those thirteen years. Even the calls in the middle of the morning from the school asking you to retrieve an ill child. Those years will go too quickly.
Drive safely as the children run across the street to greet their friends after a long summer. Watch out for the teary parent as they pull away from the curb after dropping off their baby. Be careful of our new crop of drivers as they navigate the city streets and the high school parking lots. Take a good look, it'll pass in a blink.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Heart of Worship
Last night, I had the great pleasure of attending a Casting Crowns concert at the Bismarck Civic Center. Casting Crowns is a contemporary Christian band made up mostly of youth workers. They have won many Dove awards, Christian music's highest honor. Of course, being a youth worker myself, I marvel at their ability to tour, write music, spend time with their families AND do youth ministry at their local churches. When I am in the midst of Holy Week, I am lucky some weeks that I keep my pets alive -- and I have lots of help with that!
I am a music lover and am very lucky to attend several concerts a year. My tastes are quite eclectic. In the last year I've seen Fernando Ortega, Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman and Third Day. I also enjoy TobyMac, the Newsboys and Veggie Tales. For a couple of years, I got to Life Light, three days of outdoor Christian concerts in the middle of a corn field offered at no cost to those attending. It was amazing to worship with 250,000 people. However, after a weekend of late nights and no showers coupled with an eight hour trip to and from South Dakota, I have bid that Labor Day location farewell.
At the Crowns concert, all of the seating is assigned. All the better for a youth group, I say. No standing in line for two hours to get a good seat. We pulled up to the Civic Center 40 minutes before the concert and walked in to a moderate crowd.
Our first stop was the merchandise tables. Items available included the usual fare - t-shirts, sweatshirts, every CD ever recorded by the band, guitar picks, jewelry and the lead singer's latest book. After picking out an overpriced, but cute t-shirt as a sourvenir, we headed to our seats to await the show.
As we walked into the auditorium, there was a haze in the air. I have experienced that at past concertsand always wondered where the "smoke" came from. Was there an accident with one of the lights? Was the sound check so loud that someone spontaneously combusted? How hot are the nachos?!? This riddle was solved by a fellow concert goer. Apparently the use dry ice fog to enhance the effects of the laser lights. Chalk that up as something learned for today.
I attended the concert with twenty-three youth and adults from my church. We were a jovial crowd, every excited about seeing Casting Crowns again. We saw them last year at the State Fair and they were terrific! Of course, we had been in the hot sun all day, so it was a mellow crowd.
The lights went out, the music blared and then --- there they were! Getting us on our feet and worshipping together. They put up the lyrics on their cool screen so you can sing along. When you are lifting your voices and your hands in worship to our awesome God, you really bridge the gap between Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran, youth, adult, child, Dove winning recording artist and casual singer. We all come before God equally.
Mark Hall, the lead singer for Casting Crowns, gave a great testimony and gave the salvation invitation during the concert. He does such a great job of that. Where I fumble for words and worry about getting it right, he just lays it down there. Wow!
Music is one of the ways that I connect with God. As the concert went on, I felt like I was being renewed and refreshed to go back out into the world to witness to others about our amazing God.
When the encore had been sung and we headed toward the door, I thought back over my Sunday Sabbath. I sang in church with our other song leaders, which I love to do. We are leading some new songs and there is always strength in numbers. I have to say that we sounded pretty good from where I was standing. Maybe not "Dove award" caliber quite yet, but add some dry ice and you'd hardly know the difference. Our praises sound just as sweet to God. And He's the only one who matters.
I am a music lover and am very lucky to attend several concerts a year. My tastes are quite eclectic. In the last year I've seen Fernando Ortega, Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman and Third Day. I also enjoy TobyMac, the Newsboys and Veggie Tales. For a couple of years, I got to Life Light, three days of outdoor Christian concerts in the middle of a corn field offered at no cost to those attending. It was amazing to worship with 250,000 people. However, after a weekend of late nights and no showers coupled with an eight hour trip to and from South Dakota, I have bid that Labor Day location farewell.
At the Crowns concert, all of the seating is assigned. All the better for a youth group, I say. No standing in line for two hours to get a good seat. We pulled up to the Civic Center 40 minutes before the concert and walked in to a moderate crowd.
Our first stop was the merchandise tables. Items available included the usual fare - t-shirts, sweatshirts, every CD ever recorded by the band, guitar picks, jewelry and the lead singer's latest book. After picking out an overpriced, but cute t-shirt as a sourvenir, we headed to our seats to await the show.
As we walked into the auditorium, there was a haze in the air. I have experienced that at past concertsand always wondered where the "smoke" came from. Was there an accident with one of the lights? Was the sound check so loud that someone spontaneously combusted? How hot are the nachos?!? This riddle was solved by a fellow concert goer. Apparently the use dry ice fog to enhance the effects of the laser lights. Chalk that up as something learned for today.
I attended the concert with twenty-three youth and adults from my church. We were a jovial crowd, every excited about seeing Casting Crowns again. We saw them last year at the State Fair and they were terrific! Of course, we had been in the hot sun all day, so it was a mellow crowd.
The lights went out, the music blared and then --- there they were! Getting us on our feet and worshipping together. They put up the lyrics on their cool screen so you can sing along. When you are lifting your voices and your hands in worship to our awesome God, you really bridge the gap between Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran, youth, adult, child, Dove winning recording artist and casual singer. We all come before God equally.
Mark Hall, the lead singer for Casting Crowns, gave a great testimony and gave the salvation invitation during the concert. He does such a great job of that. Where I fumble for words and worry about getting it right, he just lays it down there. Wow!
Music is one of the ways that I connect with God. As the concert went on, I felt like I was being renewed and refreshed to go back out into the world to witness to others about our amazing God.
When the encore had been sung and we headed toward the door, I thought back over my Sunday Sabbath. I sang in church with our other song leaders, which I love to do. We are leading some new songs and there is always strength in numbers. I have to say that we sounded pretty good from where I was standing. Maybe not "Dove award" caliber quite yet, but add some dry ice and you'd hardly know the difference. Our praises sound just as sweet to God. And He's the only one who matters.
Monday, August 10, 2009
On The Peak
As I stood surveying the empty sanctuary on Sunday, I marveled at how quickly our week of Vacation Bible School had went. Wasn't it just last week that we were frantically cutting out lily pads and searching for matzo crackers?!? It seemed to zoom by and I am left in a small debris field with a smile.
Our theme for the week was Crocodile Dock where fearless kids shine God's light. The setting was a bayou with lots of fishing equipment and, in a surprise appearance, a nine foot crocodile we named Ed. The volume for the week was very loud and the smiles were high voltage.
We were blessed with 36 kids last week - a record attendance in my ministry at Mandan UMC. I always plan for 40 and came pretty close to scrambling for supplies after the first night. No one is complaining -- it's wonderful to have a preschool class of ten children and have only three of them from Mandan UMC. At one point, I had about five of them lined up at my work table with their baby teeth grins telling me about Moses and the burning bush. Many of them had a firmer grasp of the story than some adults I know. This conversation declined into a jumping contest. "Look how high I can jump." "I can jump higher, see?" "Are you watching?" I am still smiling as I replay that moment in my mind.
Most of the adults worked a forty hour week in addition to the almost four hours of vacation bible school they led each night. By Thursday, my merry band of leaders were not so very merry. They were tired and looked a little rough around the edges. However, they did rebound during worship and did the actions to every song with enthusiasm that hid their fatigue. I have an amazing group of volunteers!! They do childrens' ministry because they love these children. Telling the story about Jesus' love for all of God's children is such a privilege; I often think if more people figured that out, I'd be out of a job!
We did experience some technical difficulty during the week, but our crack team of experts had it fixed in no time. I truly believe God wanted us to remember who was in charge ~ Him! The Thursday night story always includes the salvation message. This is probably one of the most important things I will ever do. I really prayed that I would get it right. Looking over my notes ten minutes before going into worship on Thursday night, I knew that something was lacking. Closing myself in the office for a bit of one-on-one with God, I asked for His words. Standing in front of the lit cross praying we wouldn't blow a curcuit or burn down the building, I knew that God would be honored that night, regardless of what I did. I wasn't disappointed.
Friday night finished with a flourish as we crossed the Red Sea and everyone hustled home for some well deserved sleep. Some of us went for a "DQ debriefing" and enjoyed a bit of ice cream while unwinding. I was sad. It had been a great week and I would miss it. When the DQ people started to lock up, we dispersed into the night, visions of sleeping late Saturday dancing in our heads.
Sunday morning, we celebrated our VBS closing worship. The little ones showed up in their pretty sundresses and sandals. The teenagers showed up sleep deprivated and a little giddy. I was, very surprisingly, cool, calm and collected. Very seldom do I ever hit any one of these on a given Sunday, but God was with me that day! We had a great attendance. As the kids rocked out to our new songs and the congregation caught glimpses of our week in the Power Point presentation, I gave thanks to God for using someone like me to do this amazing ministry. Who deserves this much? My cup runneth over!
As the last decorations were taken down and Ed was carried to his next destination, I stood on the summit, my heart took a picture and I started my climb back to reality and routine. After seeing the awesome sights that God had revealed to me, I know that I will soon be planning next years' journey. Destination: The High Seas. Guess I'll have to trade in my parka for some scuba gear. Does anyone have some adult-sized water wings?!?
Our theme for the week was Crocodile Dock where fearless kids shine God's light. The setting was a bayou with lots of fishing equipment and, in a surprise appearance, a nine foot crocodile we named Ed. The volume for the week was very loud and the smiles were high voltage.
We were blessed with 36 kids last week - a record attendance in my ministry at Mandan UMC. I always plan for 40 and came pretty close to scrambling for supplies after the first night. No one is complaining -- it's wonderful to have a preschool class of ten children and have only three of them from Mandan UMC. At one point, I had about five of them lined up at my work table with their baby teeth grins telling me about Moses and the burning bush. Many of them had a firmer grasp of the story than some adults I know. This conversation declined into a jumping contest. "Look how high I can jump." "I can jump higher, see?" "Are you watching?" I am still smiling as I replay that moment in my mind.
Most of the adults worked a forty hour week in addition to the almost four hours of vacation bible school they led each night. By Thursday, my merry band of leaders were not so very merry. They were tired and looked a little rough around the edges. However, they did rebound during worship and did the actions to every song with enthusiasm that hid their fatigue. I have an amazing group of volunteers!! They do childrens' ministry because they love these children. Telling the story about Jesus' love for all of God's children is such a privilege; I often think if more people figured that out, I'd be out of a job!
We did experience some technical difficulty during the week, but our crack team of experts had it fixed in no time. I truly believe God wanted us to remember who was in charge ~ Him! The Thursday night story always includes the salvation message. This is probably one of the most important things I will ever do. I really prayed that I would get it right. Looking over my notes ten minutes before going into worship on Thursday night, I knew that something was lacking. Closing myself in the office for a bit of one-on-one with God, I asked for His words. Standing in front of the lit cross praying we wouldn't blow a curcuit or burn down the building, I knew that God would be honored that night, regardless of what I did. I wasn't disappointed.
Friday night finished with a flourish as we crossed the Red Sea and everyone hustled home for some well deserved sleep. Some of us went for a "DQ debriefing" and enjoyed a bit of ice cream while unwinding. I was sad. It had been a great week and I would miss it. When the DQ people started to lock up, we dispersed into the night, visions of sleeping late Saturday dancing in our heads.
Sunday morning, we celebrated our VBS closing worship. The little ones showed up in their pretty sundresses and sandals. The teenagers showed up sleep deprivated and a little giddy. I was, very surprisingly, cool, calm and collected. Very seldom do I ever hit any one of these on a given Sunday, but God was with me that day! We had a great attendance. As the kids rocked out to our new songs and the congregation caught glimpses of our week in the Power Point presentation, I gave thanks to God for using someone like me to do this amazing ministry. Who deserves this much? My cup runneth over!
As the last decorations were taken down and Ed was carried to his next destination, I stood on the summit, my heart took a picture and I started my climb back to reality and routine. After seeing the awesome sights that God had revealed to me, I know that I will soon be planning next years' journey. Destination: The High Seas. Guess I'll have to trade in my parka for some scuba gear. Does anyone have some adult-sized water wings?!?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
VBS ~ Day 1
When climbers attempt to scale Mount Everest , they don't just show up, put on some snowboots, get some rope and head up the mountain. It takes days for the climbers to get acclimated to the altitude. They start at Base Camp and head up Mt. Everest at a gradual pace, spending at least several hours at each camp on the way up the mountain. This gradual pace is meant to assure a safer ascent and a better chance of actually reaching the top of the mountain. In the book, "Into Thin Air", the author tells his story of his climb up Mount Everest. By the time they got to the top, they were so sick from oxygen deprivation and tired from their climb that they took just a couple of minutes to relish the view and have a picture taken before descending. After reading that book, I made a firm pact never to scale anything taller than a peanut buster parfait at the Dairy Queen!
Preparing for Vacation Bible School is sort of like climbing Mount Everest. Preparations began months before the Big Day. Much prayer went into the selection of the curriculum. Volunteers signed up and received their books. Many members of the church family gathered supplies and gave monetary gifts to support this week.
This weekend, we arrived at "Base Camp". Friday night was a Work Night. Over fifteen people came to paint, cut and create decorations and craft items for the VBS week. Of course, where two or three Methodists are gathered, there will be pizza in the midst of them. We had begun our ascent. Sunday we transformed our church into a bayou, complete with a kayak, crocodiles, bobber streamers and a watering hole. It looks amazing. I take credit for nothing! My volunteers are amazing; you ask them to create a scene and they take ownership and create. (I'll try to post some pictures if I can figure out how.)
Yesterday was Monday, the first day of Vacation Bible School. I arrived at the church about 4:45 p.m. to take care of last minute details and meet the volunteers as they arrived. I had been awake quite a bit of the night, going over everything in my mind, too excited to sleep. As the children and adults arrived, there was a buzz in the air. There was a last minute flurry of needed items to be found or small fires to put out.
We begin each night of Bible School with supper. This is a blessing to those of us who have already put in an eight hour work day. It's always a blessing to a good meal and great fellowship. We had a lot of new faces in the supper line. Lots of old friends sharing a wonderful, kid-friendly supper of chicken patties and jello. I always do devotions with the volunteers during supper and take a little time to pray with them. Then, it's time to go to the registration table to greet the VBS crowd.
We had thirty children last night, which is a very good number for us. Nine of those children are preschool aged! Please pray for our preschool teacher. The most amazing thing is only three of those children are members of our church family! They are friends and neighbors of our church family; a couple of families found us through the newspapers advertisements. That's evangelism in action!
The music cranks up and the fun really begins. The kids spend the next two hours playing games, creating crafts, watching a short video about a chimpmunk named Chadder who gets himself into all sorts of adventures, participating in a bible story and singing.
The preschools stopped bythe table I where I was working to say hello toward the end of the evening and their bright smiles and lively chatter was a huge blessing. It's also a huge indicator that they were suffering from an overdose of sugar and it was way past their bedtime. We enjoyed a contest of "look how high I can jump". Can't believe I'm getting paid to do this. I'm lovin' it!!
After the last song was sung and the children, youth and adults bolted for the door on their way to bedtimes and stories, I sat in a chair in the church and savored the blessing that the evening had been. Our prayer team had put in overtime providing prayer coverage for this week and it showed. The children were worshipping in their own unique, uninhibited manner. Everything ran very smoothly, with just a few minor exceptions.
We are climbing toward Friday. By Thursday, the volunteers and children have hit the wall. If we were climbing Everest, we would be breaking out the oxygen tanks. We are tired and looking forward to sleeping in on Saturday morning. I pull out the big arsenal as I give affirmation, devotion and offer a prayer during supper on Friday. I know that for all of the hard work, the reward of seeing God shining in the eyes of a child is the best reward one could be given.
On Sunday we will share our Vacation Bible School closing celebration with our church family. I'll be a little sad. We've reached the top and taken the picture. The descent promises a well-deserved nap and memories that will keep us coming back year after year. However, I don't think that God intends for us to pack up our gear and head for home. I think He's got more mountains in store for us. As long as we are willing to climb, He will supply the summits.
Preparing for Vacation Bible School is sort of like climbing Mount Everest. Preparations began months before the Big Day. Much prayer went into the selection of the curriculum. Volunteers signed up and received their books. Many members of the church family gathered supplies and gave monetary gifts to support this week.
This weekend, we arrived at "Base Camp". Friday night was a Work Night. Over fifteen people came to paint, cut and create decorations and craft items for the VBS week. Of course, where two or three Methodists are gathered, there will be pizza in the midst of them. We had begun our ascent. Sunday we transformed our church into a bayou, complete with a kayak, crocodiles, bobber streamers and a watering hole. It looks amazing. I take credit for nothing! My volunteers are amazing; you ask them to create a scene and they take ownership and create. (I'll try to post some pictures if I can figure out how.)
Yesterday was Monday, the first day of Vacation Bible School. I arrived at the church about 4:45 p.m. to take care of last minute details and meet the volunteers as they arrived. I had been awake quite a bit of the night, going over everything in my mind, too excited to sleep. As the children and adults arrived, there was a buzz in the air. There was a last minute flurry of needed items to be found or small fires to put out.
We begin each night of Bible School with supper. This is a blessing to those of us who have already put in an eight hour work day. It's always a blessing to a good meal and great fellowship. We had a lot of new faces in the supper line. Lots of old friends sharing a wonderful, kid-friendly supper of chicken patties and jello. I always do devotions with the volunteers during supper and take a little time to pray with them. Then, it's time to go to the registration table to greet the VBS crowd.
We had thirty children last night, which is a very good number for us. Nine of those children are preschool aged! Please pray for our preschool teacher. The most amazing thing is only three of those children are members of our church family! They are friends and neighbors of our church family; a couple of families found us through the newspapers advertisements. That's evangelism in action!
The music cranks up and the fun really begins. The kids spend the next two hours playing games, creating crafts, watching a short video about a chimpmunk named Chadder who gets himself into all sorts of adventures, participating in a bible story and singing.
The preschools stopped bythe table I where I was working to say hello toward the end of the evening and their bright smiles and lively chatter was a huge blessing. It's also a huge indicator that they were suffering from an overdose of sugar and it was way past their bedtime. We enjoyed a contest of "look how high I can jump". Can't believe I'm getting paid to do this. I'm lovin' it!!
After the last song was sung and the children, youth and adults bolted for the door on their way to bedtimes and stories, I sat in a chair in the church and savored the blessing that the evening had been. Our prayer team had put in overtime providing prayer coverage for this week and it showed. The children were worshipping in their own unique, uninhibited manner. Everything ran very smoothly, with just a few minor exceptions.
We are climbing toward Friday. By Thursday, the volunteers and children have hit the wall. If we were climbing Everest, we would be breaking out the oxygen tanks. We are tired and looking forward to sleeping in on Saturday morning. I pull out the big arsenal as I give affirmation, devotion and offer a prayer during supper on Friday. I know that for all of the hard work, the reward of seeing God shining in the eyes of a child is the best reward one could be given.
On Sunday we will share our Vacation Bible School closing celebration with our church family. I'll be a little sad. We've reached the top and taken the picture. The descent promises a well-deserved nap and memories that will keep us coming back year after year. However, I don't think that God intends for us to pack up our gear and head for home. I think He's got more mountains in store for us. As long as we are willing to climb, He will supply the summits.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Vacation Bible School Cometh
My ministry at the church has two really busy times - Lent and Vacation Bible School. As you may remember, Easter found me with a cast on my thumb, having torn the ligaments in my hand while clearing the temple on Good Friday. For those keeping track, no surgery is needed yet and the doc and I agreed I would stick to healing the lame and curing the blind. His idea, not mine!
Vacation Bible School is an intense week of music, crafts, games, stories and snacks that is amazing, awesome, chaotic and wonderful. We begin each night at 5:30 p.m. with a nutritious, delicious supper served by our forever-faithful kitchen ladies. Music cranks up at 6:15 p.m. and the kids go to each station to learn the bible story for the evening in different ways. Through games, movies, crafts, songs and even the snacks they eat, they learn about Jesus' love and how to live it in the world. Not a small task when you are talking about three year olds through fifth graders! We finish up at 8:45 p.m. each evening and the church building empties like rats from a sinking ship as moms and dads try to instill some form of bedtime to their overstimulated, sugared children. By 9:00 p.m. I'm standing in the middle of an desolate sanctuary wondering where the evening went. This is one of my favorite weeks of the year!!!
Our church does Vacation Bible School with flare! We meet the Sunday before and transform our church into whatever theme we are doing that year. This year is Crocodile Dock, set in a bayou. This has been a leap in brain power for me. I've never been to a bayou to my knowledge. The closest I have come is watching "Forest Gump" when Forest goes to meet Bubba's mama and buys a "shrimpin' boat". We'll see what we come up with. I believe that we'll have lots of fishing equipment!
During VBS, some of the rules of decorum are suspended as standing on the pews in the sanctuary to sing loudly is an acceptable practice and it's perfectly OK to dance in the middle of worship. I've been directing VBS for more than 10 years and love taking part in the uninhibited worship of preschoolers, watching teenagers try their hands at children's ministry and seeing God's light shine in the eyes of a new believer. I bet that God loves VBS!!
Preparation for VBS starts months before the big week. Recruiting volunteers, collecting supplies, choosing crafts and lots of prayer go into these five days. A majority of my work is done by the time VBS starts. When Monday rolls around, I need to be available to trouble shoot, fill in the holes and put out fires where needed. By Wednesday, I will have someone crying on my shoulder. By Friday, the adults will be planning a post-VBS unwind at the Dairy Queen.
As for me, I have come to accept that nothing happens at my house during the week of VBS. No cooking happens (I stock up on microwave entree's and frozen pizza), no laundry gets done (except VBS wardrobe and accessories) and I wonder if I should put the puppy in foster care. My expectations for cleanliness drops dramatically. I leave the house by 7:30 a.m. and arrive home after 9:00 p.m. every night. I am so tired by the end of the week I think that the Carebears visit during the night while I sleep.
I love my job. Where else are you allowed to play, sing, dance, shout and even cry all in the course of three hours?!? When I get to present the salvation message on Thursday night, my eyes get misty and I choke up with the knowledge of the incredible love these children are given by their Creator. Why do I deserve to be the one who gets to tell them how God has a plan to spend forever with them as their very best friend? Who else gets to do this?
On August 3rd, the music will be cranked up a couple more notches at Mandan UMC and the air will be filled with the sweet sound of praises lifted to the King who allows fearless kids shine God's light. Stop by if your in the neighborhood. Just follow the music...
Vacation Bible School is an intense week of music, crafts, games, stories and snacks that is amazing, awesome, chaotic and wonderful. We begin each night at 5:30 p.m. with a nutritious, delicious supper served by our forever-faithful kitchen ladies. Music cranks up at 6:15 p.m. and the kids go to each station to learn the bible story for the evening in different ways. Through games, movies, crafts, songs and even the snacks they eat, they learn about Jesus' love and how to live it in the world. Not a small task when you are talking about three year olds through fifth graders! We finish up at 8:45 p.m. each evening and the church building empties like rats from a sinking ship as moms and dads try to instill some form of bedtime to their overstimulated, sugared children. By 9:00 p.m. I'm standing in the middle of an desolate sanctuary wondering where the evening went. This is one of my favorite weeks of the year!!!
Our church does Vacation Bible School with flare! We meet the Sunday before and transform our church into whatever theme we are doing that year. This year is Crocodile Dock, set in a bayou. This has been a leap in brain power for me. I've never been to a bayou to my knowledge. The closest I have come is watching "Forest Gump" when Forest goes to meet Bubba's mama and buys a "shrimpin' boat". We'll see what we come up with. I believe that we'll have lots of fishing equipment!
During VBS, some of the rules of decorum are suspended as standing on the pews in the sanctuary to sing loudly is an acceptable practice and it's perfectly OK to dance in the middle of worship. I've been directing VBS for more than 10 years and love taking part in the uninhibited worship of preschoolers, watching teenagers try their hands at children's ministry and seeing God's light shine in the eyes of a new believer. I bet that God loves VBS!!
Preparation for VBS starts months before the big week. Recruiting volunteers, collecting supplies, choosing crafts and lots of prayer go into these five days. A majority of my work is done by the time VBS starts. When Monday rolls around, I need to be available to trouble shoot, fill in the holes and put out fires where needed. By Wednesday, I will have someone crying on my shoulder. By Friday, the adults will be planning a post-VBS unwind at the Dairy Queen.
As for me, I have come to accept that nothing happens at my house during the week of VBS. No cooking happens (I stock up on microwave entree's and frozen pizza), no laundry gets done (except VBS wardrobe and accessories) and I wonder if I should put the puppy in foster care. My expectations for cleanliness drops dramatically. I leave the house by 7:30 a.m. and arrive home after 9:00 p.m. every night. I am so tired by the end of the week I think that the Carebears visit during the night while I sleep.
I love my job. Where else are you allowed to play, sing, dance, shout and even cry all in the course of three hours?!? When I get to present the salvation message on Thursday night, my eyes get misty and I choke up with the knowledge of the incredible love these children are given by their Creator. Why do I deserve to be the one who gets to tell them how God has a plan to spend forever with them as their very best friend? Who else gets to do this?
On August 3rd, the music will be cranked up a couple more notches at Mandan UMC and the air will be filled with the sweet sound of praises lifted to the King who allows fearless kids shine God's light. Stop by if your in the neighborhood. Just follow the music...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Bad Idea
In retrospect, I should have known better. I'm not sure what came over me. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Live and learn, I guess.
Last night was a beautiful summer evening in Mandan. Warm enough to be out in shorts and shirt sleeves and not so hot that you sweat just by thinking too hard. We are only granted about 2 weeks worthy of truly beautiful weather, and I wasn't going to waste the time indoors.
A little background will be helpful. I have a golden retriever puppy named Lucy. She is 20 months old and looks a lot like Duke from the Bushes Baked Beans commercial. Lucy weighs about 90 pounds and she is a big dog. The vet says that she is not fully grown yet; I'm consulting someone to make a saddle for me. However, inside the body of a giant beast lives the heart of a hamster. Lucy is a huge chicken. Everything scares her - lawn mowers, motorcycles, umbrellas, laundry hanging out on the line, people wearing hats, people not wearing hats.... you get the idea. My brother's family has taken to calling her Scooby Doo as she is afraid of everything and really likes Scooby snacks.
I do not encourage her timidity. It decreases her quality of life and is dangerous for her. She once bolted while I had her out on a walk and ran haphazardly through traffic until I caught up with her four blocks later. It's a miracle she wasn't hit by a car. The scary culprit -- a man seeding his lawn. I try to give Lucy "safe" scary experiences in hopes of helping her understand that everything in the world is not scary.
Last night, I decided that we would venture down to the free concerts in the park at Dykshoorn Park in Mandan. I wasn't sure who the entertainment would be, but, hey -- it's free and it was a beautiful night to be out and about. I found a parking space right across from the park. True, I don't live far from the park, but Lucy is afraid of the traffic on Main Stree and I wanted to have a backup in case my plan misfired. Good plan.
She was scared when I parked the car and the traffic was whizzing past us. I got out my car and then got Lucy out of the car. When Lucy is scared, her ears get plastered to her head, her tail ges between her legs and she walks crouched down as if the sky is going to fall down at any minute. Not a pretty sight for a beautiful dog who should be walking tall with her head held up. We got safety across the street and found a place way behind the rest of the crowd. As I sat down and settled in, Lucy was visibly shaking. She put her paws on my knees and looked me in the eyes as if to say, "I'll do anything if we can leave right now!" I reassured her that she was doing fine and she was a good girls and put her four paws back on the ground. After a while, she seemed to settle and even enjoyed an older couple who came to pet her and tell her she was pretty. What girl doesn't love that!
I thought I was home free until.... the train came. The train runs right on the edge of the park. You can see the color the eyes of those people riding on the train - you are that close. They didn't sound their horn or call attention to themself. They just rolled past. Lucy started to head for the street and pull against her leash like a puppy possessed I got down on my knees and tried to calm her with soothing words. This was my big mistake. Lucy took off and the next thing I know I'm being dragged behind a hell-bent hound as she makes for the street. I'm sure that the sight of me being dragged on my stomache behind a huge dog was entertaining for the rest of the crowd. I, however, was not having a good time. I eventually was able to stop her and get back up, but she was so panicked that she was frantic. She was jumping and pulling against her leash and discovered my dreaded secret. She is stronger than I am. Not good.
Just when I thought we would both be pulled into traffic, an angel was sent straight from heaven in the form of my friend, Deb. She had stopped to visit at my house and finding no one home she decided to see if Lucy and I had gone to the concert. I find this amazing as I have never gone to the concerts before last night. Praise God!!
She could tell from across the street that things were headed South and rushed to my aid. As I surveyed my scraped knees and dirty arms, she calmed Lucy as she shook against her pantleg. We decided to stay a bit longer to give Lucy a chance to settle and left before the last song to give us some breathing room. Deb took Lucy by the leash and off they ran toward the car. With Lucy tucked safely in the backseat of the car, she seemed a little less scared and we headed home. Once out of the car and her own backyard, she was the galloping, goofy puppy that I know and love. I was exhausted, but she seemed unscathed.
Today, I consulted a sage who told me to proceed in baby steps. Walk her a block from traffic. Walk her along the sidewalk on Main Street. Then proceed slowly to the Park. She needs to face her fears and get past this bump in the road. I want her to walk with her head held high enjoying the breeze and stopping to sniff the roses. Until that day comes, however, I'm thinking about investing in some knee pads.
Last night was a beautiful summer evening in Mandan. Warm enough to be out in shorts and shirt sleeves and not so hot that you sweat just by thinking too hard. We are only granted about 2 weeks worthy of truly beautiful weather, and I wasn't going to waste the time indoors.
A little background will be helpful. I have a golden retriever puppy named Lucy. She is 20 months old and looks a lot like Duke from the Bushes Baked Beans commercial. Lucy weighs about 90 pounds and she is a big dog. The vet says that she is not fully grown yet; I'm consulting someone to make a saddle for me. However, inside the body of a giant beast lives the heart of a hamster. Lucy is a huge chicken. Everything scares her - lawn mowers, motorcycles, umbrellas, laundry hanging out on the line, people wearing hats, people not wearing hats.... you get the idea. My brother's family has taken to calling her Scooby Doo as she is afraid of everything and really likes Scooby snacks.
I do not encourage her timidity. It decreases her quality of life and is dangerous for her. She once bolted while I had her out on a walk and ran haphazardly through traffic until I caught up with her four blocks later. It's a miracle she wasn't hit by a car. The scary culprit -- a man seeding his lawn. I try to give Lucy "safe" scary experiences in hopes of helping her understand that everything in the world is not scary.
Last night, I decided that we would venture down to the free concerts in the park at Dykshoorn Park in Mandan. I wasn't sure who the entertainment would be, but, hey -- it's free and it was a beautiful night to be out and about. I found a parking space right across from the park. True, I don't live far from the park, but Lucy is afraid of the traffic on Main Stree and I wanted to have a backup in case my plan misfired. Good plan.
She was scared when I parked the car and the traffic was whizzing past us. I got out my car and then got Lucy out of the car. When Lucy is scared, her ears get plastered to her head, her tail ges between her legs and she walks crouched down as if the sky is going to fall down at any minute. Not a pretty sight for a beautiful dog who should be walking tall with her head held up. We got safety across the street and found a place way behind the rest of the crowd. As I sat down and settled in, Lucy was visibly shaking. She put her paws on my knees and looked me in the eyes as if to say, "I'll do anything if we can leave right now!" I reassured her that she was doing fine and she was a good girls and put her four paws back on the ground. After a while, she seemed to settle and even enjoyed an older couple who came to pet her and tell her she was pretty. What girl doesn't love that!
I thought I was home free until.... the train came. The train runs right on the edge of the park. You can see the color the eyes of those people riding on the train - you are that close. They didn't sound their horn or call attention to themself. They just rolled past. Lucy started to head for the street and pull against her leash like a puppy possessed I got down on my knees and tried to calm her with soothing words. This was my big mistake. Lucy took off and the next thing I know I'm being dragged behind a hell-bent hound as she makes for the street. I'm sure that the sight of me being dragged on my stomache behind a huge dog was entertaining for the rest of the crowd. I, however, was not having a good time. I eventually was able to stop her and get back up, but she was so panicked that she was frantic. She was jumping and pulling against her leash and discovered my dreaded secret. She is stronger than I am. Not good.
Just when I thought we would both be pulled into traffic, an angel was sent straight from heaven in the form of my friend, Deb. She had stopped to visit at my house and finding no one home she decided to see if Lucy and I had gone to the concert. I find this amazing as I have never gone to the concerts before last night. Praise God!!
She could tell from across the street that things were headed South and rushed to my aid. As I surveyed my scraped knees and dirty arms, she calmed Lucy as she shook against her pantleg. We decided to stay a bit longer to give Lucy a chance to settle and left before the last song to give us some breathing room. Deb took Lucy by the leash and off they ran toward the car. With Lucy tucked safely in the backseat of the car, she seemed a little less scared and we headed home. Once out of the car and her own backyard, she was the galloping, goofy puppy that I know and love. I was exhausted, but she seemed unscathed.
Today, I consulted a sage who told me to proceed in baby steps. Walk her a block from traffic. Walk her along the sidewalk on Main Street. Then proceed slowly to the Park. She needs to face her fears and get past this bump in the road. I want her to walk with her head held high enjoying the breeze and stopping to sniff the roses. Until that day comes, however, I'm thinking about investing in some knee pads.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Going Once, Going Twice.... Gone
I have a secret. Nothing that would make my Staff Parish Committee groan or my poor mother blush. No, it's completely legal and absolutely moral. I love auctions.
For those of you who are not familiar with this custom, it's pretty simple. A family decides that they have too much stuff. Maybe their folks have passed away and the kids really don't want to take all of the folks' excess and add it to their excess. They call up a person who speaks a language that is only partially understandable, lug their stuff outside and put it on trailers. Some items are put into boxes with nonrelated items and then they invite people to rifle through their belongings. People are given bidding numbers. Men stand around talking about the weather; women congregate around the youngest baby and share childraising secrets. The Auctioneer picks up the nearest box of stuff and away they go!
Now the fun begins. You wait until the auctioneer goes to the lowest possible bid price and then you raise your hand, nod your head and bid until the price goes out of your range or everyone else decides you want the valuable merchandise more than they do. Sold! You go pick up your newly acquired stuff and the process repeats itself over and over until everything is sold.
I went to my first auction of the season yesterday and I remembered why I enjoy them so much. I like keeping my eyes peeled for treasures. It's fun to watch two women go after the same teapot and see one of the women concede. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Who needs reality television?!?
My eight year old nephew, Samuel, seemed very confused by the whole process when the auction got rolling yesterday. He told me, "I don't understand what he's saying." I replied that no one really does, it's the numbers that are important. I'm not that auctions hold the same thrill for children under the age of 16.
There are a few things you should now if you are a first time auction attendee.
1. Never nod your head as an answer to any question or raise your hand to demonstrate to a small child next to you how high your junior prom date was. My father almost bought a horse that way once.
2. Beware of the boxes. If they can't get a bid for a box of "valuable merchandise" they will just keep adding boxes until someone will give them a quarter for all of it. These boxes may hold antique silverware OR carpet squares from the mid 1970's.
3. Always visit the lunch service. In our neck of the woods, you are sure to sample some of the best kuchen you have every eaten and the sloppy joes are all the sloppy that you can handle. Take a fork!
4. People in my part of the country are very respectful to leave the bidding to famly when an heirloom. Outside collectors are sure to get some icy glares when outbidding Cousin Nellie for grandma's quilt.
5. Get there early to inspect the auction items, get a good spot to enjoy the auction and wear sunscreen.
I am auction-going again tomorrow. Who knows what I could find? I'm in the market for a couch, chair, kitchen table and/or chairs and a snow blower. I am confident enough to stand my ground during even the most furious bidding and know when to shake my head and pull out when prices go to high. I've got my Coppertone SPF 80 and some money for the food vendor. I love that I live in a community that guarantees that I can go away empty handed and still feel happy that I've spent the day outdoors with my neighbors doing something important. I've helped another family through the process of downsizing their parents' estate with respect, some laughter and a nod of the head.
For those of you who are not familiar with this custom, it's pretty simple. A family decides that they have too much stuff. Maybe their folks have passed away and the kids really don't want to take all of the folks' excess and add it to their excess. They call up a person who speaks a language that is only partially understandable, lug their stuff outside and put it on trailers. Some items are put into boxes with nonrelated items and then they invite people to rifle through their belongings. People are given bidding numbers. Men stand around talking about the weather; women congregate around the youngest baby and share childraising secrets. The Auctioneer picks up the nearest box of stuff and away they go!
Now the fun begins. You wait until the auctioneer goes to the lowest possible bid price and then you raise your hand, nod your head and bid until the price goes out of your range or everyone else decides you want the valuable merchandise more than they do. Sold! You go pick up your newly acquired stuff and the process repeats itself over and over until everything is sold.
I went to my first auction of the season yesterday and I remembered why I enjoy them so much. I like keeping my eyes peeled for treasures. It's fun to watch two women go after the same teapot and see one of the women concede. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Who needs reality television?!?
My eight year old nephew, Samuel, seemed very confused by the whole process when the auction got rolling yesterday. He told me, "I don't understand what he's saying." I replied that no one really does, it's the numbers that are important. I'm not that auctions hold the same thrill for children under the age of 16.
There are a few things you should now if you are a first time auction attendee.
1. Never nod your head as an answer to any question or raise your hand to demonstrate to a small child next to you how high your junior prom date was. My father almost bought a horse that way once.
2. Beware of the boxes. If they can't get a bid for a box of "valuable merchandise" they will just keep adding boxes until someone will give them a quarter for all of it. These boxes may hold antique silverware OR carpet squares from the mid 1970's.
3. Always visit the lunch service. In our neck of the woods, you are sure to sample some of the best kuchen you have every eaten and the sloppy joes are all the sloppy that you can handle. Take a fork!
4. People in my part of the country are very respectful to leave the bidding to famly when an heirloom. Outside collectors are sure to get some icy glares when outbidding Cousin Nellie for grandma's quilt.
5. Get there early to inspect the auction items, get a good spot to enjoy the auction and wear sunscreen.
I am auction-going again tomorrow. Who knows what I could find? I'm in the market for a couch, chair, kitchen table and/or chairs and a snow blower. I am confident enough to stand my ground during even the most furious bidding and know when to shake my head and pull out when prices go to high. I've got my Coppertone SPF 80 and some money for the food vendor. I love that I live in a community that guarantees that I can go away empty handed and still feel happy that I've spent the day outdoors with my neighbors doing something important. I've helped another family through the process of downsizing their parents' estate with respect, some laughter and a nod of the head.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Trip to the Water Park
Sunday dawned clear and slightly less windy than the previous day. My friend from high school and her children were guests at Casa Del Rhodes. The kids are six and eleven and after an hour of being quiet and sitting still, they were ready for an adventure. Destination: Waterpark.
I could fill up an entire blog about my feeling toward swimming suits. Suffice it to say, I am all for bringing back the bathing suits of the 30's which covered you from neck to toes.
We were finally ready to head out - swimsuits on, sunscreen applied, bags packed for two or three days in the wilderness. I have only been to the waterpark once since it opened eight years ago, so I had to be prepared for anything!
We got checked in, found some space to call our own and hit the water. It was only about seventy-five degrees on Sunday so we approached the water with some trepidation. The first couple of seconds were brutal; after a while it wasn't too bad.
We spent the next six hours floating along the lazy river, getting out to watch the children come down the slides and getting back into the lazy river. The kids were pretty fearless. I was impressed. I tried the slides once with a member of my youth group. You sit on a tube and head into the darkness. The tube shoots down the slide in the darkness and you aren't even sure which end is up. Sounds like fun? Neither do I! I was plenty satisfied to cheer on the children and thank God they didn't need adult accompaniment.
After six hours, we packed up our exhausted, damp group and headed home. After Chinese take-out and showers, we were ready for bed. I had sufficiently burned parts of my body not covered by my swimsuit and slathered on the "blue goo" with aloe and lidocaine.
The kids had a blast, which really was the goal. My friend and I enjoyed floating around the lazy river talking and savoring a beautiful summer day. Another memory to tack in my mental scrapbook. Good times!
I could fill up an entire blog about my feeling toward swimming suits. Suffice it to say, I am all for bringing back the bathing suits of the 30's which covered you from neck to toes.
We were finally ready to head out - swimsuits on, sunscreen applied, bags packed for two or three days in the wilderness. I have only been to the waterpark once since it opened eight years ago, so I had to be prepared for anything!
We got checked in, found some space to call our own and hit the water. It was only about seventy-five degrees on Sunday so we approached the water with some trepidation. The first couple of seconds were brutal; after a while it wasn't too bad.
We spent the next six hours floating along the lazy river, getting out to watch the children come down the slides and getting back into the lazy river. The kids were pretty fearless. I was impressed. I tried the slides once with a member of my youth group. You sit on a tube and head into the darkness. The tube shoots down the slide in the darkness and you aren't even sure which end is up. Sounds like fun? Neither do I! I was plenty satisfied to cheer on the children and thank God they didn't need adult accompaniment.
After six hours, we packed up our exhausted, damp group and headed home. After Chinese take-out and showers, we were ready for bed. I had sufficiently burned parts of my body not covered by my swimsuit and slathered on the "blue goo" with aloe and lidocaine.
The kids had a blast, which really was the goal. My friend and I enjoyed floating around the lazy river talking and savoring a beautiful summer day. Another memory to tack in my mental scrapbook. Good times!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Independence Day Preparations
I wonder if our Founding Fathers realized what they set into motion as the put their signatures on the Declaration of Independence. Some of the MVPs of a new government were in attendance on that very hot July 4th day. They had labored over that document; the key that would open up the government to the people it governed. I'm sure that no where in their wildest imagination would they have dreamed the celebrations that would commemorate the event for hundreds of years to come.
The Fourth of July is next week Saturday. It's hard to believe that summer has traveled so fast. As I have mentioned in my previous post, Mandan, North Dakota really knows how to celebrate on the Fourth of July.
Mandan plays host to Mandan Rodeo Days. At risk of having my North Dakota heritage stripped from me, I admit that I have never been to the rodeo. July 4th has a reputation for being hot and sticky. I'm a wimp, but sitting on metal bleachers in the grandstands does not sound like a good time to me. I have no other reason for my absence -- I wish them well.
Art in the Park at Dykshoorn Park in Mandan is perhaps in my top two favorite holiday destinations. They feature hundreds of canvas booth stuffed with every sort of craft known to man and beast - ceramics, toys, signs of various sizes, shapes and languages, clothes, furnitures. The park hosts live music every hour for every taste featuring accordians, singers and musicians of all sorts. One of the biggest draws for me is their food vendors (yes, I know - surprise, surprise!). Pizza, chinese food, drumsticks the size of a small child, soups in bread bowls, mini doughnuts, indian tacos, hamburgers and hot dogs are just a short list of heartburn inducing cuisine that can be ingested over the weekend. My favorite are the Greek gyros, lamb if I can get it, topped with cucumber sauce. Amazing. God is truly good!
The parade will be a highlight for me. We are busy in practices as we perfect our songs for the big day. On the 3rd, we will meet at a large shop to assemble our float and pray for the crowd, our group and great weather. The Fourth of July will start early as we check into our staging area and begin the wait until we finally roll out onto the parade route, music blaring to spread the Gospel in our unique way. If you are on the route, give a way or better yet, a shout out!
I'm very excited to serve as guide for my parents this year as they join the thousands pouring into town for the celebration. So many activities, so little time. We'll be sure to take in the fireworks, as they are always breathtaking! I know those displays cost someone thousands of dollars and I want to thank them for their splurge!
The fireworks often remind me of the scripture that talks about how brief our time is here on this side of heaven. Like grass that withers by the end of the day or a vapor in the wind. As I watch the fireworks, I often think that some people live their lives like fireworks - one great shining moment, a loud noise and then they disappear. I like to think of my life as a sparkler; blazing long enough to shine the light and then slowly fading away.
Have a happy 4th of July. Wear sunscreen and give a wave!
The Fourth of July is next week Saturday. It's hard to believe that summer has traveled so fast. As I have mentioned in my previous post, Mandan, North Dakota really knows how to celebrate on the Fourth of July.
Mandan plays host to Mandan Rodeo Days. At risk of having my North Dakota heritage stripped from me, I admit that I have never been to the rodeo. July 4th has a reputation for being hot and sticky. I'm a wimp, but sitting on metal bleachers in the grandstands does not sound like a good time to me. I have no other reason for my absence -- I wish them well.
Art in the Park at Dykshoorn Park in Mandan is perhaps in my top two favorite holiday destinations. They feature hundreds of canvas booth stuffed with every sort of craft known to man and beast - ceramics, toys, signs of various sizes, shapes and languages, clothes, furnitures. The park hosts live music every hour for every taste featuring accordians, singers and musicians of all sorts. One of the biggest draws for me is their food vendors (yes, I know - surprise, surprise!). Pizza, chinese food, drumsticks the size of a small child, soups in bread bowls, mini doughnuts, indian tacos, hamburgers and hot dogs are just a short list of heartburn inducing cuisine that can be ingested over the weekend. My favorite are the Greek gyros, lamb if I can get it, topped with cucumber sauce. Amazing. God is truly good!
The parade will be a highlight for me. We are busy in practices as we perfect our songs for the big day. On the 3rd, we will meet at a large shop to assemble our float and pray for the crowd, our group and great weather. The Fourth of July will start early as we check into our staging area and begin the wait until we finally roll out onto the parade route, music blaring to spread the Gospel in our unique way. If you are on the route, give a way or better yet, a shout out!
I'm very excited to serve as guide for my parents this year as they join the thousands pouring into town for the celebration. So many activities, so little time. We'll be sure to take in the fireworks, as they are always breathtaking! I know those displays cost someone thousands of dollars and I want to thank them for their splurge!
The fireworks often remind me of the scripture that talks about how brief our time is here on this side of heaven. Like grass that withers by the end of the day or a vapor in the wind. As I watch the fireworks, I often think that some people live their lives like fireworks - one great shining moment, a loud noise and then they disappear. I like to think of my life as a sparkler; blazing long enough to shine the light and then slowly fading away.
Have a happy 4th of July. Wear sunscreen and give a wave!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Summer Pondering
My summer seems to be going at breakneck speed. Wasn't it just Memorial Day weekend?? I traveled to Rapid City, South Dakota for DakYAC. DakYAC is not the sound that your pet makes after chewing on sticks in the yard. DakYAC is the Youth Annual Conference. Think two days of meeting where youth have a say and the adults must sit in the back of the room and be silent. Heaven to a teenager!
DakYAC was held at Storm Mountain, a Dakotas United Methodist camp just outside of Rapid City. I have to admit I was a just a bit anxious as we left the relative civilization of New England with no public restrooms until you reach Sturgis two and a half hours away. We were traveling with four teenagers who are known for their ability to consume amazing amounts of food in a short period of time and their unpredictable bladders.
After only one emergency stop in Reeder, North Dakota, we were in Rapid City. Don't get me wrong; the City was very nice. However, being a prairie girl at heart, I was dismayed that I couldn't see anything with all those trees in the way! I spent three days feeling very closed in by all of the wood and pine needles.
There was too much work left at the end of the weekend, so I sent my group, which included our other chaperone, to Mount Rushmore without me. My group had a great time, despite the rain, and brought back pictures, memories and a t-shirt for me. Someday I'd like to stand and gaze upon that National Monument. Maybe next time!
With Rapid City in the rearview miror, the next stop is the 4th of July. Mandan, North Dakota really does the 4th of July well! You have Art in the Park with lots of different types of crafts and tons of food vendors. They also feature live entertainment every hour. The Fourth of July parade is amazing. Close to 300 entries long, it features everything that makes this Country great -- color guards, politicians shaking hands and kissing babies, beauty queens, farm implements and floats of every denomination, creed and shape. Coordinating this parade is an army of volunteers with clipboards and the patience of Job!
Our church sponsors an entry each year featuring our two ministry teams and advertises our Vacation Bible School. This is also a strategically planned phenomenon! We borrow a large flat bed trailer, recruit a driver who can transport us safely while we clown/dance on the back. Practice has already started for those participating and we are all excited as the day approaches. How often do you get to spread the Gospel to thousands of people in a single morning! We are praying that God will truly reign on our parade!
Despite the forementioned activity, my schedule really has slowed down. I enjoy spending evenings visiting and trying in vain to teach Lucy to come when she is called. We (Lucy and I) plan to take in some of the concerts in the park on the weeknights. I figure we'll wander down to Dykshoorn Park with a lawn chair for me and a rawhide for Lucy. Insect repellent, a water bottle and maybe some licorice. Life is truly good!
If you happen to be taking in some of the local talent, stop by and say hi. We always enjoy visiting with friends, listening to good music and a long summer evening.
DakYAC was held at Storm Mountain, a Dakotas United Methodist camp just outside of Rapid City. I have to admit I was a just a bit anxious as we left the relative civilization of New England with no public restrooms until you reach Sturgis two and a half hours away. We were traveling with four teenagers who are known for their ability to consume amazing amounts of food in a short period of time and their unpredictable bladders.
After only one emergency stop in Reeder, North Dakota, we were in Rapid City. Don't get me wrong; the City was very nice. However, being a prairie girl at heart, I was dismayed that I couldn't see anything with all those trees in the way! I spent three days feeling very closed in by all of the wood and pine needles.
There was too much work left at the end of the weekend, so I sent my group, which included our other chaperone, to Mount Rushmore without me. My group had a great time, despite the rain, and brought back pictures, memories and a t-shirt for me. Someday I'd like to stand and gaze upon that National Monument. Maybe next time!
With Rapid City in the rearview miror, the next stop is the 4th of July. Mandan, North Dakota really does the 4th of July well! You have Art in the Park with lots of different types of crafts and tons of food vendors. They also feature live entertainment every hour. The Fourth of July parade is amazing. Close to 300 entries long, it features everything that makes this Country great -- color guards, politicians shaking hands and kissing babies, beauty queens, farm implements and floats of every denomination, creed and shape. Coordinating this parade is an army of volunteers with clipboards and the patience of Job!
Our church sponsors an entry each year featuring our two ministry teams and advertises our Vacation Bible School. This is also a strategically planned phenomenon! We borrow a large flat bed trailer, recruit a driver who can transport us safely while we clown/dance on the back. Practice has already started for those participating and we are all excited as the day approaches. How often do you get to spread the Gospel to thousands of people in a single morning! We are praying that God will truly reign on our parade!
Despite the forementioned activity, my schedule really has slowed down. I enjoy spending evenings visiting and trying in vain to teach Lucy to come when she is called. We (Lucy and I) plan to take in some of the concerts in the park on the weeknights. I figure we'll wander down to Dykshoorn Park with a lawn chair for me and a rawhide for Lucy. Insect repellent, a water bottle and maybe some licorice. Life is truly good!
If you happen to be taking in some of the local talent, stop by and say hi. We always enjoy visiting with friends, listening to good music and a long summer evening.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
On the Edge of Summer
I walked out to my car this morning and something felt strange. It took me a moment to put my finger on this feeling -- oh yeah, I'm not dressed in layers anymore! As I gave Lucy one last romp around the backyard, I grabbed only a light sweater and felt practically unclothed.
As a woman, I am, of course, excited that I get to break out the spring/summer wardrobe after months of sweaters, fleece and flannel. Oh the joy of capris and sandals! I am a big fan of being barefoot and am loving wondering around the house without my feet being encased in socks and slippers least frostbite sets in while I'm watching television.
As end-of-the-school-year events fill up my calendar, other programs and activities have taken a hiatus for the summer. Only three more weeks of our After School Program and Youth Group before they too succomb to summer vacation. Those last three weeks are filled with trips to the park, bowling, high school graduations and Sunday School celebrations. The kids are ready to be free for three months and we keep silent, still activities to a minimum as they only cause frustration and frenzy for all involved.
Graduation is just around the corner and, as always, this is a bittersweet time. I have served my church family for nine years and I am now buying graduation cards for children who were elementary school children when I arrived as a new staffer. You have a cake, say a prayer, whisper a blessing and send them out into the world. A new group of youth step up to fill the gap and you move on. It happens every year and I am always amazed by the almost seamless transition.
As I look at my calendar for June, July and August, it is still filled with activities yet to come - the 4th of July parade, Vacation Bible School, vacation time. But it is also filled with lots of empty space. I hardly know how to handle unscheduled time. I enjoy being busy and being with my church family. I miss our Wednesday family suppers at church, as this was one meal I didn't eat alone during the week. I have that much in common with the widowers in our church. The food tastes better, you linger over dessert and enjoy the conversation. We have potlucks once a month during the summer and I'll look forward to those fellowship opportunities.
My nephews will be out of school is just two and a half weeks. For them, aged 11, 8 and 2 years old, the summer is spread out before them like a magic carpet. Almost anything is possible. They get to sleep late, stay up late and play outside for hours on end. They will enjoy chasing butterflies, playing in the dirt and running with their dogs. Maybe I need to take a couple of lessons from Noah, Sam and Ben on how to enjoy my summer vacation too.
As a woman, I am, of course, excited that I get to break out the spring/summer wardrobe after months of sweaters, fleece and flannel. Oh the joy of capris and sandals! I am a big fan of being barefoot and am loving wondering around the house without my feet being encased in socks and slippers least frostbite sets in while I'm watching television.
As end-of-the-school-year events fill up my calendar, other programs and activities have taken a hiatus for the summer. Only three more weeks of our After School Program and Youth Group before they too succomb to summer vacation. Those last three weeks are filled with trips to the park, bowling, high school graduations and Sunday School celebrations. The kids are ready to be free for three months and we keep silent, still activities to a minimum as they only cause frustration and frenzy for all involved.
Graduation is just around the corner and, as always, this is a bittersweet time. I have served my church family for nine years and I am now buying graduation cards for children who were elementary school children when I arrived as a new staffer. You have a cake, say a prayer, whisper a blessing and send them out into the world. A new group of youth step up to fill the gap and you move on. It happens every year and I am always amazed by the almost seamless transition.
As I look at my calendar for June, July and August, it is still filled with activities yet to come - the 4th of July parade, Vacation Bible School, vacation time. But it is also filled with lots of empty space. I hardly know how to handle unscheduled time. I enjoy being busy and being with my church family. I miss our Wednesday family suppers at church, as this was one meal I didn't eat alone during the week. I have that much in common with the widowers in our church. The food tastes better, you linger over dessert and enjoy the conversation. We have potlucks once a month during the summer and I'll look forward to those fellowship opportunities.
My nephews will be out of school is just two and a half weeks. For them, aged 11, 8 and 2 years old, the summer is spread out before them like a magic carpet. Almost anything is possible. They get to sleep late, stay up late and play outside for hours on end. They will enjoy chasing butterflies, playing in the dirt and running with their dogs. Maybe I need to take a couple of lessons from Noah, Sam and Ben on how to enjoy my summer vacation too.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Lock In Weekend
There is one event in youth ministry that can send chills down your spine. That event is a lock in. The basic premise is that you lock the kids in the church with you for an all-nighter that features messy, disgusting games, lots and lots of food and, of course, the inevitable sleep deprivation. Add into this mix lots of caffeine, sugar and hide-and-go-seek in the dark, common referred to in our Youth Group as predator, and you've got all the ingredients for a great time.
We do one lock-in a year in our church. Other events provide sleepovers and sleeping in gyms, but they do all have one thing in common -- sleep. At a lock-in, you go into it knowing the general idea is to stay awake ALL NIGHT LONG!
Personally, I like lock ins. It's a great way to get to know your youth a little better and they bring their friends too. Outreach opportunity! I also get to pull games out of my hat that I would never try any other time of the year. In the past, we've duct taped youth to the wall (the girls won!). Last year, I dress four youth in garbage bags and had them stand about 10 feet from their team. Their team then threw peanut butter covered bread at them to see how many they could get to stick to the garbage bags. Great Fun! This year, my cool game involves whipped topping and cheese balls. I'll let you know how that one goes over.
Our food will vary from cookies and bars, to chips and pizza and then, at 6 a.m. breakfast. I am always grateful to my breakfast crew. They come in, well rested and make us a healthy breakfast, while we try and keep the kids on their feet until their folks come to take them home.
My lock in volunteers are a special breed. They know exactly when to start the caffeine loading on Friday morning and they are just as cheerful at 4 a.m. as they are at 8 p.m. God has a special place in heaven for those who chaperone lock ins.
I usually do better than the kids do at these all nighters. I know how to ration my energy and my caffeine. I keep busy and don't sit anywhere too long. I don't eat too much and drink lots of fluids. I think that youth workers have special genes that allow for sporatic sleep habits and strange food combinations.
When you retire on Friday night, think about all the fun you are missing. We will most likely be in the midst of movies, snacks, games, predator and duct tape. If you think of it, say a prayer for my adults and I. Watching the sunrise surrounded by sleepy teenagers is not for the faint of heart or stomache. We, too, will be driving home groggily to catch a few hours of sleep before trying to reset our sleep cycles.
If you can't sleep, come on down to Mandan UMC and join the fun! We'll leave the light on for you.
We do one lock-in a year in our church. Other events provide sleepovers and sleeping in gyms, but they do all have one thing in common -- sleep. At a lock-in, you go into it knowing the general idea is to stay awake ALL NIGHT LONG!
Personally, I like lock ins. It's a great way to get to know your youth a little better and they bring their friends too. Outreach opportunity! I also get to pull games out of my hat that I would never try any other time of the year. In the past, we've duct taped youth to the wall (the girls won!). Last year, I dress four youth in garbage bags and had them stand about 10 feet from their team. Their team then threw peanut butter covered bread at them to see how many they could get to stick to the garbage bags. Great Fun! This year, my cool game involves whipped topping and cheese balls. I'll let you know how that one goes over.
Our food will vary from cookies and bars, to chips and pizza and then, at 6 a.m. breakfast. I am always grateful to my breakfast crew. They come in, well rested and make us a healthy breakfast, while we try and keep the kids on their feet until their folks come to take them home.
My lock in volunteers are a special breed. They know exactly when to start the caffeine loading on Friday morning and they are just as cheerful at 4 a.m. as they are at 8 p.m. God has a special place in heaven for those who chaperone lock ins.
I usually do better than the kids do at these all nighters. I know how to ration my energy and my caffeine. I keep busy and don't sit anywhere too long. I don't eat too much and drink lots of fluids. I think that youth workers have special genes that allow for sporatic sleep habits and strange food combinations.
When you retire on Friday night, think about all the fun you are missing. We will most likely be in the midst of movies, snacks, games, predator and duct tape. If you think of it, say a prayer for my adults and I. Watching the sunrise surrounded by sleepy teenagers is not for the faint of heart or stomache. We, too, will be driving home groggily to catch a few hours of sleep before trying to reset our sleep cycles.
If you can't sleep, come on down to Mandan UMC and join the fun! We'll leave the light on for you.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Reflections on Good Friday
My middle name is Grace, which is my mother's first name. It is a name; not a descriptive term. I tend to be a bit accident prone. I once broke my big toe and a bone in my foot when a pizza fell out of the freezer and landed on my foot. Mind you, it was a stuffed crust pizza. Even though it reallt hurt, I waited about 24 hours before seeking medical attention because I didn't want to tell anyone what I had done. When I finally hobbled into the walk-in clinic I was in too much pain to care anymore. By the time I came back from my x-rays, I'm sure that all the staff knew as they smiled as I handed over the films. Two weeks in a walking cast fixed my foot, butr my pride took quite a hit.
As I had predicted in my post on Friday, preparation for the Good Friday service were filled with last minute instructions, some casting changes, an emergency ironing session by a parent and prayer. Finally, after months of practice, there we were in make-up. The sanctuary was filling with people and the music started,
Our dance praise ministry team had the first song and got the people on their feet and praising God. The clown team entered for the second song and the energy level was high. My entrance came during the middle of the same song. Everthing was going well. The adrenalin was flowing.
The third scene depicts Jesus clearing the temple of the thieves and money changers. I came into the scene and flip over a card table. I've done this dozens of times. However, I've never gotten my thumb caught on the table. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Pain shot through my thumb, palm and two fingers. Not usually a good sign. As the scene progresses, my hand hurts so bad I can't use that hand. Not good at all.
I am pretty sure that it is broken or dislocated. But, the service must go on. It wasn't hard to muster up tears during Jesus' prayer in the Garden. Things got worse when my guards tie my wrists to the cross before the crucifixion. Lucky the music was loud enough to muffle my desperate whispers to loosen up the ropes or else!
After the service, everyone headed to the Dairy Queen and I headed to the ER. I had taken off my clown make-up, but it was still an interesting story that ellicited lots of questions from the nurses, docs, x-ray techs and the registration clerk. As I stated in last week's blog, noone believes a story that starts, "well, you see I was clowning and throwing this table." I'm pretty sure they ordered a psych consult.
I ended up with either a badly sprained thumb or a torn ligament or tendon. The plastic surgeon will give me the verdict this week. I have a plaster splint and a sling. So much for playing for the Sunrise service. I'm learning to type with one hand, as working is not optional. Vicodin has been a constant companion during the weekend.
Apparently noone knew what had happened at the service outside of the ministry teams. That's good because it wasn't about me - it was about God. I pray that God was reflected through the Good Friday service.
"Let your light so shine before men that they see your good works and praise your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:12
As I had predicted in my post on Friday, preparation for the Good Friday service were filled with last minute instructions, some casting changes, an emergency ironing session by a parent and prayer. Finally, after months of practice, there we were in make-up. The sanctuary was filling with people and the music started,
Our dance praise ministry team had the first song and got the people on their feet and praising God. The clown team entered for the second song and the energy level was high. My entrance came during the middle of the same song. Everthing was going well. The adrenalin was flowing.
The third scene depicts Jesus clearing the temple of the thieves and money changers. I came into the scene and flip over a card table. I've done this dozens of times. However, I've never gotten my thumb caught on the table. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Pain shot through my thumb, palm and two fingers. Not usually a good sign. As the scene progresses, my hand hurts so bad I can't use that hand. Not good at all.
I am pretty sure that it is broken or dislocated. But, the service must go on. It wasn't hard to muster up tears during Jesus' prayer in the Garden. Things got worse when my guards tie my wrists to the cross before the crucifixion. Lucky the music was loud enough to muffle my desperate whispers to loosen up the ropes or else!
After the service, everyone headed to the Dairy Queen and I headed to the ER. I had taken off my clown make-up, but it was still an interesting story that ellicited lots of questions from the nurses, docs, x-ray techs and the registration clerk. As I stated in last week's blog, noone believes a story that starts, "well, you see I was clowning and throwing this table." I'm pretty sure they ordered a psych consult.
I ended up with either a badly sprained thumb or a torn ligament or tendon. The plastic surgeon will give me the verdict this week. I have a plaster splint and a sling. So much for playing for the Sunrise service. I'm learning to type with one hand, as working is not optional. Vicodin has been a constant companion during the weekend.
Apparently noone knew what had happened at the service outside of the ministry teams. That's good because it wasn't about me - it was about God. I pray that God was reflected through the Good Friday service.
"Let your light so shine before men that they see your good works and praise your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:12
Friday, April 10, 2009
Bad Friday?
In just a few short hours, I will put on my clown white and step into the role of Jesus Christ, a role I am seriously unworthy of taking. The Clown Ministry Team has put in hours of practice and we have about 25 people involved in our worship service tonight. The service has been given a total make-over with new music and different characters, but the same Gospel message. The hour leading up to the Good Friday Passion Remembrance are usually fraught with last minute emergencies and creative solutions to those emergencies. Judas is hyperventilating - just breath. One of the youth showed up without their clown shirt -- we keep extras in the office. One final prayer and we are out the door and on our way to worship.
Several years ago when I was relatively new at Mandan UMC, I had an allergic reaction to some cheap clown make-up in the middle of the Good Friday service. Like troopers, the kids pitched in and we got through it. They learned that they possess inner strength they didn't know they had. I learned that the ER doctors really don't believe any story with the words "clown make-up" in it. I now take Benadryl before putting on the white.
Last week, I was discussing Holy Week with my Wonderful Wednesday after school children. One very insightful kids asked me why we call it Good Friday when it wasn't very good at all. In his opinion, it should be called Bad Friday. A very valid point! That Friday two thousand years had nothing good about it. Jesus spent the night in jail after a phony trial, he was beaten within an inch of his life and publically called a fraud. He was made to carry the device of his own execution through a crowded city and was crucified, mocked and died. Not a very good day at all. His mother watched her son put to death brutally. Only one of his disciples was present throughout the entire ordeal. All of the others had fled in fear of a similar fate. At the end of the day, they buried Him in a borrowed tomb. He was very much dead.
Easter would change the face of history forever. But no one present on that Friday could see past the events of that day to the miracle that would come on Sunday.
In the midst of Holy Week, we are steeped in the solemn liturgy and scripture of His last days. On Easter, we celebrate the resurrection of the Son of Man who gave us hope for a better life. We have 20/20 hindsight into the events of Easter and beyond. And from what we can see, it was a very good Friday.
Several years ago when I was relatively new at Mandan UMC, I had an allergic reaction to some cheap clown make-up in the middle of the Good Friday service. Like troopers, the kids pitched in and we got through it. They learned that they possess inner strength they didn't know they had. I learned that the ER doctors really don't believe any story with the words "clown make-up" in it. I now take Benadryl before putting on the white.
Last week, I was discussing Holy Week with my Wonderful Wednesday after school children. One very insightful kids asked me why we call it Good Friday when it wasn't very good at all. In his opinion, it should be called Bad Friday. A very valid point! That Friday two thousand years had nothing good about it. Jesus spent the night in jail after a phony trial, he was beaten within an inch of his life and publically called a fraud. He was made to carry the device of his own execution through a crowded city and was crucified, mocked and died. Not a very good day at all. His mother watched her son put to death brutally. Only one of his disciples was present throughout the entire ordeal. All of the others had fled in fear of a similar fate. At the end of the day, they buried Him in a borrowed tomb. He was very much dead.
Easter would change the face of history forever. But no one present on that Friday could see past the events of that day to the miracle that would come on Sunday.
In the midst of Holy Week, we are steeped in the solemn liturgy and scripture of His last days. On Easter, we celebrate the resurrection of the Son of Man who gave us hope for a better life. We have 20/20 hindsight into the events of Easter and beyond. And from what we can see, it was a very good Friday.
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