Month: June 2008

Soaring Gas Prices

Soaring Food Prices

Presidential Election

War in Iraq and Afghanistan

North Korea = Nuclear Power??

If you’re like me (and most of the rest of America), one of these five phrases (if not ALL of them) made you a little unsettled, a little nervous, a little perturbed. Things keep piling up, piling on, getting worse. I sometimes wonder how people who don’t have the Lord sleep at night – and I just listed a few universal issues . .

Yeah, getting upset would be really easy right now, but for this:

Philippians 4:6 “do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God, And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Psalm 37:25 “I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
or his children begging for bread.”

How comforting to be unforsaken as the world tumbles down.

 

Last night, I went out with friends. We had a picnic supper of BLTs, chips, strawberries, and sweet tea while listening to Jazz in the Park. We then played sand volleyball for an hour and a half until it got too dark to see and hiked down to the lake to hear the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra play for free. We got there with the concert almost over, but their finale of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” was well worth the trek. As it was the first night of the world-famous music festival, Summerfest, they had what’s referred to as the “Big Bang” to kick things off – fireworks! And I didn’t get home ’til nearly midnight (quite the aberration).

OK, seriously, does it get any better on a summer night than that??

The old 50’s song, “If I Knew You Were Coming” (I’d’ve Baked a Cake)  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ss941vaoe_A) started me thinking about contractions, and how I can’t imagine life without them. I mean, I cannot. Consider never using another contraction again. This is easier to do when writing, much harder to do when speaking. Talking gets clunky when we take out the contracted verbs and negatives.

Singing does too:

. . . I would have baked a cake, I would have baked a cake, I would have baked a cake . . .

Contractions are they’re good, especially lovely double ones like “I’d’ve”. And the song ain’t all that bad either.

I rediscovered the Boggle on Saturday night. It’s one of those games I remember playing as a kid at the kitchen table with Mom and my brothers, but I hadn’t played it in years. I forgot how much fun it was, but when you combine letters, obscure words (“boded”, anyone?) and a 3 minute time limit – wow! It’s great!

Also, when there’s the “th” letter combination right in the middle is helpful as it doth bringeth back the Olde English feel to things.

Psalm 27:13-14 – I found these verses to be very encouraging this morning, especially as I’m . . . waiting. (I always seem to be doing that!)

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living!
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!

Last night I had the wonderful experience of eating supper with a friend from grad school, her husband, and her Argentine in-laws. The food was fresh from scratch South American cooking, and English and Spanish flew about in equal quantities, much to the delight of my always-anxious-for-anything-international ears. We talked, via frequent translation, of Africa, languages, school, work, and a recently stolen lawn mower. They wanted to learn some Swahili words, and after going over only a few phrases, Swahili was proclaimed to be much easier to pronounce than cumbersome English words like “siblings”. I find that whenever my mind hears another language, Swahili is on the tip of my tongue. Of course, this is rarely productive when talking to someone from South America . . .

After dinner, we watched a World War I movie in which actors occasionally dialogued in French or German. And there we were, a farm girl from Iowa, her Argentine family, and the girl from Kenya, sitting in a living room in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, watching a film that took place in Europe.

And those continental connections sure felt like home to this alien and stranger.

That is, according to psychologist Cliff Arnall, who has actually developed an equation demonstrating variables that makes this, 20 June, the happiest day of the year. The following quote is from an article at ajc.com:

“Apparently it’s the combination of brighter evenings, childhood memories, and the prospect of summer holidays that puts the best possible spin on today.”

So . . . feel any better?

Even more wonderful than sunshine, good memories, and holidays, though, is this promise from  Romans 4:

“Blessed [Happy] are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed [happy] is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.”

Hallelujah!

As I write this blog entry, I’m listening to comfort music. Just like we eat certain kinds of food because they are comfortable, so we listen to music that comforts us.

I was thinking about why I have certain songs that I play over and over again, and why my iPod has such a weird mix on it. One of my very kind friends described my music collection as “eclectic” (which I think is nicer than “weird”), and it is that. I have about every musical genre, including rap, folk, classical, pop, country, hymns – and some songs that don’t fit really well in any category. I imagine that most people have “eclectic” collections.

But why?

Sometimes, a lot of times, I’ll add a song because it reminds me of a place or a time or a friend. I might not have otherwise liked and listened to it, but it has meaning attached. That’s why Horowitz’s rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” bumps up against the Kenyan song “Chonga Viazi” which in turn precedes the thoughtful “How Deep the Father’s Love” which is incongruously followed by “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything” which leads us, oddly enough, to “Canon in D” (that’s on shuffle, by the way).

And that’s why I have numbers like “Hey There Delilah” in my repertoire. That one is only in there because when I was home last summer, Noah was picking it out on his guitar. It reminds me of my brother, and I smile.

It’s my comfort music.

I woke up at 4 this morning thinking about Santa Claus. Yes, him. Despite the fact that summer, not winter, is nigh, and there are about a zillion other things I could/should think about if I happen to awaken in the wee hours of the morning, it was the Jolly Elf  on the tip of my brain.

I’ve been listening to the enjoyable audiobook memoirs of a girl growing up in rural Indiana. I finished it last night before going to bed, and in the final chapter, the author writes about when she received a much wished for gift at Christmas, complete with a handwritten letter from – you guessed it – Mr. Claus himself. The story was told in a very touching, sweet way, but early this morning I awoke to find myself contemplating the aftermath.

Millions of kids are told about Santa’s existence by well-meaning (and well-trusted) parents, and of course these young’uns believe the story. They have no reason not to. And in most cases, Santa has taken over the role of God – we know from that old holiday tune that he’s all-knowing, and pretty close to being omnipresent and omnipotent too. He is a really good guy to believe in.

Imagine the kick in the gut, then, when these kids are at recess with a slightly wiser friend who (smugly) disabuses them of their belief in Santa, revealing to them that they’ve been lied to their whole life. Ouch.

It reminds me (on an infinitely larger scale) of friends I have who have been saved out of religion. Some were told all their lives that you can get to heaven because of your baptism or good works, etc., only to discover that salvation is by the grace of God, apart from works, in the work and person of Jesus Christ. That revelation stings too, but it is a needed sting.

I realize it is probably one of the biggest barriers to a person placing their trust in Christ, and only the Spirit of God can break the walls down. May we be used of him to (kindly, gently) disabuse people of their faulty beliefs, and point them to the Light.

There it is – a month ago tomorrow. I figured since I spent a lot of time on this blog looking forward to that day, it might be nice to take a look back to 18 May. (And I think, good grief! Is that for real?) It was great to have both my parents (as well as a brother, my dad’s parents, and two sweet college friends) there for the momentous occasion. Thus ended my formal education, but it figures I would find myself back at school in the fall – after all, my friends call me a “lifer”.

I take that as a compliment.

“Not much to do when you got time on your side/You sit and think about your wasted life . . . “

I don’t exactly agree with the sentiments of this song that Emily Jane White sings, but I can relate. In the last month I’ve gone from student with two part time jobs to unemployed to employed to unemployed again. It’s a long story which I won’t go into on this blog, but suffice it to say that I currently have a lot of time on my hands.

Job hunting for summer work has proved fruitless to this point. I haven’t stopped looking, but have resigned myself that I might not be employed until the end of August when I start working for the school district. Which leaves me with . . . time – about 2 months of the precious commodity.

And unlike the lyrics above, I don’t want to waste it. I want to use it, to redeem it. (Ephesians 5:16) I want this “time on my side” to be used to glorify God.

So I’m going to start blogging daily again (that’s my goal anyway). And I’m planning to study in preparation for my job in the fall, memorize Scripture, go for walks by Lake Michigan, enjoy Jazz in the Park, listen to audiobooks from the public library, among other things. I’ll have a schedule.

It’s not what I thought this summer would be, but it’s what God has for me. He’s changed my plans before, he can change them again. That’s why this life is such an adventure.

So, onward!

barely