I think if I had to make just one New Year's resolution, it would be not to meander through life this year.

Meander. Now, isn't that a word that means exactly what it sounds like? Especially when you add the suffix -ing:

Meandering.

Actually, in print, it looks MEAN: MEANdering!

All of the things I think I'd like to accomplish can come under that one resolution. Getting more organized. Having a defined devotional life. Getting finances under better control. Getting my Body under better control.

I love to meander through the clearance racks at any store you could name: I've got the locations memorized, and I know the most efficient way to negotiate the store, hitting all of the racks with the big red signs. I also love to meander through the thrift store, going from the clothing to the housewares to the shoes to the books. And, of course, a good long meandering walk through the woods? Nothing more relaxing, right?

But I don't see a lot about meandering in the Bible. (except that incident of the Israelites taking forty years to make a two-week trip, of course.) But I do see a lot about discipline, especially self-discipline. Discipline is Training, and I need a refresher boot-camp in that department. Just like when Dave Ramsey says, "every dollar needs a name"--well, every hour in my day and my week needs a name, as well.

I had a friend once who used to call me up every morning and keep me on the line for forty minutes or so, recounting the day before, how her husband let her down, as well as gossip of every sort about people I did and didn't know. I learned to say No to her (and other such people) who wanted a "biggie" portion of my day. Now my problem is mostly of my own making--I am perfectly capable of wasting time all by myself.

I had plans to go out of town today, which have just been cancelled. So, I guess I'd better take some time to decide some Definite ways to begin my journey.

I'll be letting you know how it goes.

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As is usual for me, at this time of year, I am looking for ways to Slow Down. Get Simple. Do less, but More With Meaning. Aren't we all looking for that?

It seems to be quite hard to do so, with three sets of family, and my own children to boot. Johnny Tremain is in the church play, and Blackeyed Susan is dancing in the Program on the Sunday before Christmas. And, don't forget Charming's work Christmas party--he is a manager, so it is on the Must Do list. My Must-do list is long, and I don't even have a School Holiday Program to deal with!

We have been on this mission for our entire life-with-children. We wanted to keep the gift thing simple: three gifts for each, just like Jesus received. The Problem was Charming--as Christmas approached every year, he began thinking of more and more gifts that he wanted to give the children. Our admonishment that "this is not going to be a *big* Christmas" became a family joke.

I can't really blame Charming--he is not alone in being a generous father. Our heavenly Father loves us more than any earthly father can--and doesn't He "lavish us with gifts" that we can't even number?

The last couple of years, we have had a smaller Christmas because we purposed to do so. We only have two children at home (tho' we have four adult single children, who don't have families of their own), and so the pile under the tree is, by default, smaller...

...but not less complicated. Crafting gifts by hand does save money, but not time. We decided with our first grandchild, that our gifts for the grands would be books or handmade toys. I love to make flannel jammies or knit scarves (I did that two years ago--eighteen scarves!), and I harbor a dream of making everyone in the family a pair of red mittens (should have taken care of that while the kids were still at home: would have been ten pairs, instead of nineteen-and-counting....). Wonderful food mixes or cookies or fudge--also good, except that isn't my favorite thing to do.

So here I am, again. In the summertime, all this looks so simple: make a plan, and don't let it get out of hand. And, if you think you were going to find an answer here...ha ha on YOU!!

I am seeing a recurring theme in my blog-travels this season--don't be so frugal that you worry about spending money [that you Have in Hand--I'm a Dave Ramsey girl], and don't feel guilty if you do Buy presents instead of Thrifting them or Making them or whatever.

I (in my own Infinite Wisdom here) do have a couple of rules of thumb: 1) don't buy frivolous presents; that is, don't buy something just to be buying something. Make sure that it is a gift that will be appreciated and used. I can't tell you the number of times I have found a *perfect* gift in the thrift store. The bonus was saving money; the Real Deal was Finding the Perfection. But if your Perfect Gift is a little pricier, and in the department store, if you have the money, Go For It. 2) Every year when we "attempted" to give the children only three gifts, we used this rule of thumb: give Something to Wear, Something to Read, and Something to Do. I used their own wishes for the something to do, gave good books for their own collections, and, of course, clothing served a double purpose as a gift/need thing.

Where else but in America do we angst about not having a simple life? Last year, I went to the library for the book Hundred Dollar Christmas, a book about simplifying the holiday. I found it on a table display of at least forty books on Making Your Life More Simple. What, living simply is an Industry now?

Another problem I have had (gollee, this is getting long, sorry) is the Wonderful Holiday Tradition thing. Charming grew up in a home with several traditions; so did I. When we combine these with the Number of Cool Traditions in our own family, as well as any number of new ones in the Simple Holiday books....

...can't do everything.

Wow. Epiphany. Light bulb Moment.

If you're like me (the all-or-nothing girl) deciding is the most difficult...decision. Maybe you can't get to your ideal in one year. The last two or three years I have liked better and better. Maybe I'm on the Path to being Satisfied.

Nah. That prob'ly won't happen. But I'll die trying. 

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Charming says I'm a hypocrite. I blogged here about how I wasn't going to the after-Thanksgiving sales. Well, I had no desire to go--it was LILY who dragged me out! And, it wasn't at 4 am, it was going-on 7 a.m.

And, it was only to the fabric store. Not that JoAnn's wasn't a madhouse. Our friend grabbed a "take-a-number" when we first started shopping, so that we wouldn't have to wait so long in the cutting line. And the line for the register, tho' it had to be 30 or 35 people long, only took 15 minutes to go through. Seven registers move you along pretty quickly.

I still stand by my blogpost, tho'. It doesn't hold the Adventure it used to. I'm glad I got my bargains at those great prices, though, so I won't try to rationalize it any more.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault." Yep, I still remember Latin Mass back-in-the-day.

Or, maybe this comes under the "confess your faults one to another" thing. In any case...

Charming, get off my back.

(love ya'.)

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Wow, you never really know all about your parents.

My father, who is 86 years old, told me a story yesterday that I had never heard. When he was eleven years old, he went to the Chicago World's Fair (1933). He and his father started out about 3:30 am, and went to a different town to pick up my grandfather's cousin, Tom. A little ways up the highway, they stopped at an all-night diner to get some breakfast. As they left the restaurant, Tom asked my grandfather (Dick) what time it was. [at this point, my father said, "Dad was always extremely precise about the time."] "The time is 4:30 am, exactly."

They arrived in Chicago near eight o'clock. Grandpa gave Dad some money, and told him "to meet back here at six o'clock." Can you imagine leaving an eleven year-old to his own devices for ten hours anytime, much less at a World's Fair? [shudder]

Daddy told me, "I knew why they sent me off by myself--they wanted to spend the day at the Girly-shows."

tee. hee. I imagine they were exhibits called "Spices of Asia," or "Arabian Beauties," or some-such. Daddy, like so many boys of his time, was an airplane fanatic. Besides the many airplane exhibits (Dad specifically mentioned the 1933 Lockheed Cargo Carrier), there were plenty of freak shows and other carnival fare. He said he had planned to ride the Sky-ride to the man-made island that was a big attraction, but one of the cars had crashed the day before. Eleven year-old Adventurer that he was, he wasn't foolishly careless. Good for *me*, or maybe I wouldn't be here!

When they got home, they heard on the radio that John Dillinger and his gang had broken into a jail in a little town in Indiana that morning.

Across the street from the little diner where they had had breakfast.

At Exactly 4:30 a.m.

Somehow, I don't feel like I've had a very exciting life, ya' know?

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We voted yesterday, on a day that was sunny and 75 degrees. Now, *that* doesn't happen every time. We live just a block from our polling place, so we always walk. Blackeyed Susan and Alvin Fernald accompanied me, as they have every election since they were born. Since it was Charming's day off, he was able to vote with me at the same time. An added bonus was that Lily and the children drove up just as we arrived!

Lily went the extra mile. Tuesday morning, a nine-months' pregant friend with two toddlers told her that her babysitting hadn't worked out, and that she was not going to be able to vote. Lily went to her home with her own four, During Naptime, to allow her friend to vote. Now *that* is going the extra mile!

We treated ourselves to KFC for supper, as we gathered around the tv to watch election returns. As the night went on, of course, it began to be apparent that our candidate was going to lose. Susan and Alvin began to get a little worried about their immediate futures: well, we had had more than a few discussions about What Would Our Country Come To if the "other candidate" were elected...

So, here is the discussion from that point:

God is still on the throne. The Bible clearly states that He is the one who gives power--"He lifts one up and takes another down." When Jesus stood before Pilate, and Pilate said to Him, "don't you know I have the power to crucify you?" Jesus replied, "you have now power except what My Father has given you."

Life is gonna look Pretty Much The Same for them. This morning we are Still Doing Schoolwork. Tonight is Still Youth Group. They may still hear complaints as the new administration gets to work, but we have survived tax-and-spend administrations before.

Not sure if this is Judgment on America, or just a cyclical political thing. We have always had One Party for awhile, then Another Party takes over. It has happened for over two hundred years. Just like the Present Financial Crisis. It is not the end of the world. If I remember correctly, one or two people survived the Great Depression. If we believe that God is our provider, then we need to pay attention to Him, and not look at the political arena to decide whether or not to panic.

Am I disappointed? Yes, definitely. Things don't bode well for things such as Supreme Court nominations for the next four years. But God calls me to follow HIM, and for me, today, that means doing the Next Thing.

God is good. All the time. Yep, He really is.

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I just love Jewels over at Eyes of Wonder. The way she writes encourages me to slow down my day, to notice everything, especially the ordinary, and see it with "eyes of wonder."

In the entry I linked to above, she talks about saying goodbye to summer, and welcoming the fall with all of its good things. Like many other people, autumn is my favorite season. What's not to love? The sights, the sounds, the smells. Looking forward to coming inside for a little hibernation. Just reading  the first chapter of Little House in the Big Woods gets me in the mood.

This week, I am loving the fallen leaves--the satisfying crunch while walking anywhere, the softened colors of the drying leaves, the musty smell everywhere outside. Just one of the many, many things that make autumn my favorite.

I love watching the earth preparing itself for rest. The softened colors everywhere--the grays, browns, and beiges that happen in November *after* the gorgeous display of color in October. The look of bare trees against the sky, mixed in with the evergreens. It's all good, as Martha says.

Jewels mentions the time in her future, after she has taught her youngest child to read, and the Passage that will signal. That event has already happened for me; I have six children out of the nest, and only two teenagers left--and their time is flying by too quickly. The "autumn" of my life is arriving. At 53, though I'm not too concerned about my age, I have to admit that 35 is long past. Most of my childraising years are behind me.

Jewels had a great thought, about saying goodbye to my "summer," as I transition into the "autumn" of my life:

To everything there is a season. I'm so thankful that autumn is the very season to follow after summer, in God's creation as well as in my life. What a blessed mystery, that something equally/possibly even more special and beautiful, can and will, softly and quietly move into the place of something else long held especially dear, special and beautiful. God is so very good. So kind. So good.

That's a wonderful thought. Why shouldn't the "autumn" of my life, just like the autumn of the year, be my very favorite? Sure, my skin is a little dried up just like the leaves (hopefully, I'm not smellin' too musty just yet...) and my hair color is a tad faded-looking. But this is the time of my harvest--looking at the children we raised becoming wonderful adults, the promise of the seedlings we planted coming to fruition. Fulfilling the purposes God planned for them, and, getting me some grandchildren into the bargain!

Another thing that's apparent at this time of my life is the Wisdom my mother told me I'd get. It's magic! You just keep getting up in the morning, then, one day, all of a sudden you know a few things. A lot of the angst of youth disappears, and you stop sweatin' (at least *some*) of the Small Stuff. I can see as each year passes, Life getting more and more clear. Now, I still worry 'way too much. I thought I'd have it more "together" by this time. I guess I thought I would have conquered all that stuff I don't like about myself. But at least I know that God doesn't hold it against me. He loves me "just the way I am." Really. He DOES.

So now, for this season, I am going to try to look at my life, as well as what's going on outside, with fresh eyes. With those Eyes of Wonder.

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I read this week:

"Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the post of my doors. For whoso findeth Me findeth life, and shall obtain favor of the LORD."  Proverbs 8: 34-35

Isn't it funny how certain questions come up over and over in a certain week? I have been asked several times this week about whether I will do the Day after Thanksgiving Shopping Madness this year. I just don't know if I've ever been asked so early.

Now, for about twenty years, the day-after both Thanksgiving and Christmas were part of my Big Shopping Plan. I scoured the ads the night before. Planned my route of three or four stores. Set the alarm for well before dawn, in order to wait in line, coffee in hand, long before the stores opened their doors. Rushing in, trying to beat several dozen people to the three or four items that I could get for that "unbeatable price--5 a.m. to 10 a.m. ONLY."

Maybe I'm too old. That just doesn't hold the appeal it once did. I can wait until noon (if I go at all) for the Second Best Price (the ones that say "all day" instead of "5-10 a.m. only"). I only go to the after-Christmas sales once every three or four years, if I need paper at 75% off. Much more important to me, now, is a Quiet Morning at home, savouring the day before (or, finishing dishes....). My daughter and daughter-in-law have moved into my former place, grabbing bargains for their growing families.

Still, as much fun as I used to have, anticipating being part of the Crowd and walking miles to my car with sack after sack of great bargains I had snagged, I have to tell you this:

I never "found life" or "the favor of the LORD" there.

Look at that passage again--Blessed is he...Watching daily at my gates...Waiting at the posts of my doors.

Have I *ever* been as excited to spend (early morning) time with the Lord as I was to go shopping with a hundred thousand people? Have I done the planning and re-planning in preparation? Have I set the alarm Well Before Dawn, on purpose? Has the Anticipation-Meter ever registered off-the-charts?

Well, of course there have been periods in my life where that has happened. In times of crisis, I was ever at-the-ready to fly to my place of solace. Every word of the Lord was my food and drink, and the very air I breathed. And He was always faithful. I never arrived at our trysting-place, but that He was there waiting.

And look at the promise: He who is waiting for the Lord at His gates, "findeth life." God does not hold out a "fabulous deal" on wide-screen tvs, when there are only five in the store. He never runs out of His treasures. In fact, they are available even after 10 a.m. and still for the fabulous price of "Free."

Wow. That is, as we used to say in the '70's, heavy, man.

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Well, you all are aware of the whirlwind that is happening in our financial markets. For the last couple of years, we have seen prices go up, up, up. I have a neighbor who works at our local GM plant--they make big trucks and SUV's there--not the 35 mpg kind! So she has been laid off most of the summer, working just three sporadic weeks. My brother works at a plant making car "parts"--he experienced a one-week layoff last week.

Charming, working in the food industry, is okay for now. People still eat out, but the profit margins are smaller--food prices are higher for the restaurant, as well. We are grateful for his job. His salary is exactly the same as it was a year ago, but my natural gas budget has gone up $25/month, our house payment, up $25 due to increased escrow, water bill up, and scheduled to go up again. Factor in food and gasoline, and the little "wiggle room" we used to have is gone.

I'm actually not opposed to squeaking and tweaking--we all want to live that "Simple Life," don't we? And we bemoan the fact that we don't know where to start. I'm again cooking more from scratch (being gone four days a week at suppertime, taking Blackeyed Susan to ballet, got me into a convenience/fast food habit...) just like I did "when we had no money." I have announced to my family the First (annual?) All-Thrifted or Handmade Christmas--I'm not even going to bother shopping in the stores. Charming gets a quarterly bonus on December 1st. Two years ago it was $800--last year it was "almost" $400. $400 gets us gas to go to the out-of-town grandparents, a tree, and festive food. But not loads of electronic presents, you know?

I just read over that last paragragh. Did you see the reference to the time when "we had no money?" This was early in our marriage--we had six children in eight years, old "beater" cars, hand-me-down clothes and furniture. But--we had no debt, either!

We, like many others, are working on a plan to get out of debt, except for the house. Now, if we achieve our goal, we can work on that, as well. But with our budget squeaky-tight, it doesn't look like hundreds of dollars a month will be making its way to Debt Reduction. We are "casting our bread on the waters," and doing everything *we* can think of, including the possibility of me working outside the home. Just asking God through what avenues He will work it all out.

Yesterday at church, our pastor spoke of what he called "Last Days Economy." He believes God's desire is for His people to not only be out of debt, but through God's supernatural provision, that we be generous, giving people. Look at a few verses from Psalm 112:

"Praise ye the LORD. Blessed is the man that feareth the LORD, that delighteth greatly in His commandments. 2His seed shall be mighty upon earth: the generation of the upright shall be blessed. 3Wealth and riches shall be in his house: and his righteousness endureth forever. 4Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness: he is gracious, and full of compassion, and righteous. 5A good man sheweth favour, and lendeth: he will guide his affairs with discretion. 6Surely he will not be moved forever: the righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance. 7He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the LORD. 8His heart is established, he shall not be afraid, until he see his desire upon his enemies."  Ps. 112:1-8

May I encourage you to "keep on keepin' on?" If you need a job, I pray that you will find one. I also pray that God will stretch your provision, and in doing so, have enough abundance to share. We're all on this journey now, aren't we? My mother, who grew up in the Depression, said, "we were poor, but we didn't know it. *Everybody* was poor."

What's cool, though, is that, in Christ, we're all RICH.

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Maybe you heard about the flak surrounding the Jonas Brothers' "purity rings." On one hand, I think it's kind of funny--why are so many reporters sounding off on this issue? Why are so many feeling "threatened?"

We take each of our children out on their sixteenth birthday to the fanciest place we can find, and give them a ring. They know it is coming, and the conversation always includes this statement: "We know that you have made this decision, and we want you to know that we are here to help you keep your resolve. This ring is a reminder of the promise you have made to yourself, to keep yourself for the one God has planned for you. But, we want you to know, that if you "fall," you don't have to be afraid to tell us. Everybody makes mistakes. Some people make big mistakes. As your parents, we pray that you won't make this one, because there are great consequences. But, it's not the end of the world."

They already know this. Charming and I (who grew up good Catholic children) had made the same resolve. Our parents assumed we would keep ourselves until marriage, and, at the time, the "ongoing conversation" that we, today, MUST have with our children, wasn't deemed necessary. Charming and I spent too much time alone, and, well, It Happened To Us.

I had a conversation with Violet the other day. She mentioned that S*rah P*lin (don't want any googling to end up here) was for Abstinence Only Ed, and how, [Violet] as a dorm rector at a women's dorm, thought that that was not enough. I said to her, "I absolutely agree. I have never been for Abstinence Only. Teens need to know about the risk of pregnancy and disease. They need to know that no method of birth control will prevent disease (if they think c*ndoms will, they are taking a Big Gamble); that no one talks about Safe S*x anymore, just SafeR S*x (i.e. there *is* no such animal as "safe"; that someone needs to tell teens about a) how no contraceptive is 100% and b) the possibly permanent health risks of chemical b/c. That teens also need to know the psychological and emotional "baggage" they will carry if they choose s*x, and the possible problems with bonding to their future spouses." (I probably tossed a few more things in there, too...) And I finished up with, "I am for education that says, Abstinence is the only safe decision, and should be held as the Preferred Choice. Anything else is substandard."

Violet said, "Wow, Mom, I would have never thought you weren't Abstinence Only." I said to her, "that's because I *was* Abstinence Only with My Own Children!!" She laughed. "Well," she said, "we did know all of that other stuff, too." I said, "you bet your life you did. If nothing else, you kids were Fully Informed of the risks of sex."

Back to the Jonas Brothers. Frankly, the articles I've read online, and the interview I saw on the morning show, all seemed Stupid to me. The "con" side people all said that Purity Rings give a false confidence, and then, when the kids "fall," the first time they have s*x, it's unprotected.

Puh-leeze. You are not going to convince me that Any Teen "plans" the first time, complete with Protection. Or that the majority of teens are Using Protection every time, without fail. The ones who have purity rings are just like any other teens that are having s*x.

What we need to do is Keep the Conversation Going. Our children are in the fight of their young lives every day. That's why the book is called Every Young Man's Battle (and Girl's Battle, as well.) I have one child who is not wearing his/her ring anymore. Blackeyed Susan thought he/she maybe wasn't a Christian anymore, or that he/she maybe never was Saved. I pointed out that he/she was just as "on fire" a teen Christian as she is. We all sin. Satan is fighting to pull each of us down. He succeeds with all of us, in one way or another. (well, that kinda backfired, and got Susan so scared she thought that if she ever kissed a boy, she might fall into bed with him. Had to talk her down from that ledge...the Ongoing Conversation again.)

If you have teens, PLEASE hear this. Purity rings are a great way to celebrate a good decision by your teen. It is a symbol to both him or her and to you, as parents, to work together to win the battle until marriage. But don't ever think it is a guarantee. You haven't won the battle. You have simply raised the standard, like the huge banners that the Israelites used in battle, that they looked to to keep their focus, and remember that God was fighting for them.

The fight is worth it. My two married children "made it" to their wedding day. They will never worry about disease, or the consequences of a "too soon" pregnancy. Three other of my adult children are fighting that fight well. Susan and Alvin Fernald have made their decisions, but are just at the beginning of their battle. And, so far, our purity rings have an 87.5% success rate. But not because of the Ring. Because of the Ongoing Conversation, and the Grace of God.

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Well, it's a new school year, and I've had Blackeyed Susan and Alvin Fernald writing some "descriptive paragraphs" just to warm up the writing juices. Here is Susan's first entry:

Back to Ballet Again

    The first day back to ballet was painful. The smell mixed of sweat and hairspray. What a wonderful, homely smell. It was like I never left. Going back seemed so natural. Being overwhelmingly welcomed by friends you've missed over the summer. Nothing like it. Through the thoughts of spending the next three seasons with them, through all the aching calves, and body parts you didn't think could be so sore, throbbing heads, grumpy feelings, and bloody toes, it's good to be back.

******************

Here is Alvin's first:

My Experience with Primer

     One day, my friend Will was painting his room, and asked me to help. Bad idea. We were painting it red, so we first had to use pink primer. We decided it would be fun to paint our heads pink. We were wrong. There I was, with pink hair, getting ready for Royal Rangers, when I decided I wanted it out. Multiple shampooings later, my scalp was stinging, but my head was still pink. Mom combed out the paint, and with many shrieks, the ordeal was finally over.

*******************

When I sat down to help them correct their paragraphs, the first thing that stood out was the multitude of "un-sentences" they used. Still, I recognized a pattern--they wrote their paragraphs like they "spoke" when they made comments on their friends' Facebook pages. Maybe we can call it Blogspeak or BlogGrammar?

I do the same thing. Look at many of my entries and I will say something like: It was a Very. Big. Deal. Or, I will say, I grounded them forever. Done Deal. No mercy.

I think we write on blogs in the casual way we speak today. Using "voice" inflection instead of grammar. (see, I did it again!)

I started to correct their pieces, and just gave up, telling them that I hadn't specified using formal grammar, so we'd try it again. That was yesterday. (did you notice it again?

Here we go with Susan's:

 A New CD

    The feeling I get when I buy a new CD is priceless. The smell of the plastic, and the sight of the new CD gives me goose bumps. Taking it out of the case, and putting it in the CD player, not knowing what song is coming next. Each new song, better than the last. Staring at the case while you're endlessly surprised about the songs being played. Then the CD is over, when you feel like you just put it in! Your mood becomes let down, until you hear the CD start over.

(still a couple of un-sentences there...)

***************************

Alvin:

My Dream Guitar

     If I could afford any guitar, it would be a vintage Fender Telecaster. It would have a wood finish, with Humbucker pickups. It would have a smooth, sulky sound, and someday, it will be Mine. muwahahahahah....

******************

Now, my first attempt:

Christmas Time Again?

      Crisp snow crunching underfoot? The smell of Christmas cookies baking filling the house? Not quite, my friend. It is possibly ninety degrees outside, though reminiscent of an arctic outpost inside (I *do* keep the a/c quite cold). However, the strains of Jackie Gleason's "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and "Fifteen Favorite Christmas Medleys" *do* fill my home. it has been my own personal tradition, since I was a teenager, to play "mood" music while I crafted handmade Christmas gifts. And my children, who think I'm crazy as a loon, are finally used to the fact that I start to play my Christmas music on September 1st.

******************

Ugh. Look at mine. Puh-thetic. The first THREE sentences aren't sentences! I see definite improvement in my children from entry one to entry two (and, in my defense, I only tried once!!), but it is very difficult to "do it right" when we've been "doing it wrong" all summer!

I am pretty proud of their descriptive prowess, however...

So, back to work! As my Dad used to say, Another Day, Another Dollar. Or maybe, God's mercies are new everyday, and boy, do I need 'em! 

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When Charming and I were dating, and talking about the kind of family we wanted to have, there was one thing at the top of our list: to Teach Our Children How To Think. Now, you may be surprised that our number one goal for our family was not "to raise our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." I think that's because that was a "given" for us--we were both raised in that kind of environment, and maybe didn't think it needed to be stated?

It also may have to do with how we defined Christianity. Early on, Charming thought of a beautiful description: Christianity is The Way Things Really Are. After all, Jesus said that He was "the Truth," (...the Way, the Truth, and the Life...)and isn't that the way things really are? Of course, allowing that you believe in absolutes like Truth. This definition gets rid of moral relativism, and the "end justifying the means," and all of those things that cloud the truth in a given situation. It also disallows the notion of "all ways lead to heaven." I don't say that in a mean or disparaging way, but if I say that I believe the Bible is true, I have to believe the part where Jesus says, "no man comes to the Father except by Me."

While we were on vacation, the cottage we stayed in faced west, and we were treated to seven glorious sunsets. Lake Huron gave us an unobstructed view, different from our "town" sunsets where we can't get a full view of the horizon. Each night we watched the sun "slip over the edge of the world."

As I watched the sunsets, I thought about other peoples who came before me. The Greeks and Romans, who, observing the world they lived in, developed gods and goddesses to explain the things they could not understand. They had a "sun god" who rode a golden chariot across the sky from east to west everyday, and attempted to pacify him so that he would "come back" the next day.

Then my mind traveled to the Middle Ages, and the controversy between Copernicus and Galileo, and the rest of the scientific and religious community. If all I had to see was what my eyes saw every sunrise and sunset, it would be easy for me to believe that the sun traveled around the earth. And, frankly, I would probably brand anyone who thought differently as crazy. But, as we now know as Truth, the sun is the center of our "world," and the earth travels around *it.* What we see as the "sun going 'round" is, of course, the earth rotating on its axis every 24 hours.

So, then, we have What We Can See as opposed to The Way Things Really Are. Do you see that describing God's Creation that way, leads to our definition of Christianity? This is how it works, guys. This (what is revealed by God in His Word) is how I relate to my world, and how you can relate to Me. The Way Things Really Are.

So, anyway, back to our goals for our little family. Thirty-three years later, we have six grown children in their twenties and thirties who certainly know how to think. [There were those teenage years where, many times, we thought to ourselves, Why did we ever want to teach them how to think? They're using it against us!] And, still at home, Blackeyed Susan, 15, and Alvin Fernald, 13. They are "on fire" youth, who want to know all there is about the Lord. (What a blessing on our vacation one night, to see them huddled over their Bibles, with a list of verses on a paper, looking them up and comparing them!)

We attend a large Pentecostal church, with different "stripes" of believers. They range from very conservative to very "experience-oriented." So, Susan and Alvin get a lot of input from different friends as to how their Christian walk is "supposed" to look. So, a big part of our job as parents right now, is to teach them how to sort it all out. I caught Susan and Charming on the porch yesterday, mid-morning, having quite a discussion on this subject. (Such a blessing to homeschool, leaving this opportunity open for the taking!)

I got the video series, How Should We Then Live? by Francis Schaeffer, from the library. It was first a book about the Christian worldview, and he made it into a video series. We watched the first portion the other day, about the Roman civilization. About how the civilization was built upon what a group of men thought was "good ideas," but how, because of that unstable foundation, what was considered "good ideas," changed from emperor to emperor (think about how at first, the emperor was just an emperor, and, during some emperor's reign, he/the people decided he was a god, as well), and, as heart of man is "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," as it says in Jeremiah 17:9, things go downhill when men are in charge. By the end of the empire, of course, men were killing men for sport, and there were entire cities devoted to sexual perversions. Incidentally, when we turned the vcr off and the television came on, there sprang a commercial for Fruit of the Loom ladies undergarments, and we saw twelve ladies dancing in their undies. The children caught the "resemblance" to the Romans right away!

Then I asked them where they got the notion that all men were valuable (think slavery, ab*rtion) and they said that the Bible says so. How do they know that Christianity is the right religion? Same answer. It began to dawn on them, that they are looking at a "firmer foundation" than that of any culture built on
"men's good ideas."

Next discussion: this year's political races. They already know what Mommy and Daddy think, but now we're going to look at God's ideas versus men's ideas.

Thinking, thinking. Good stuff.

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Errgghh.

Blackeyed Susan's cellphone isn't working right. When she opens it (it's a flip-phone) the screen is blue and has colored wavy lines on it. You cannot read anything (phone numbers, text messages) on it. After awhile, the screen will clear and be usable. But she has to keep the phone open all day, or she has to begin the process again.

So...I took it in to the store. She told the associate what was happening--he took one look and said, "it's the phone. We're having a lot of trouble with that phone." I said, "she's only had it three months. Can we get another phone?"

Seemed a reasonable question to me. If I bought a camera (tv, dvd player, *anything*) at Wal-Mart, and it was defective, I would take it in, they would give me another one, and (I assume) they would send the faulty item to the manufacturer. But in Cell-Phone World, it doesn't work that way.

First question: "Do you have insurance on this phone?" (no, I only have insurance on my phone. If the kids drop theirs in the toilet or leave it somewhere, they can deal with it.) I said: "This has nothing to do with insurance. YOUR PHONE IS BAD!! His reply: "Well, you can ship it back to the company, and they will get you a new one." I said: "What if I *had* had insurance?" He said: "Well, I would charge you $29.00 (the deductible) and give you a new phone." (mouth agape) Are you kidding me?

Is he kidding me?

He gave me the address of the manufacturer so I know where I can ship it. I asked, foolishly, if it would be free shipping. Oh, heck no. Six bucks. Oh, and call them before you ship, so they can tell me if I have a valid reason under the warranty.

Even tho' he admitted that *many* of the phones are faulty.

As my Daddy used to say, They Get You Comin' And Goin'.

Fortunately, we have an old phone (oh, the shame--she'll have to carry the Dinosaur for a few weeks!) which I am charging at-this-very-minute. I'm sure this is not the biggest problem I'll have this week. But it kinda helped letting me vent.

Thanks.

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Today is a busy day! Alvin Fernald has his last game and awards ceremony for his baseball league--yeeks, at 8 am! I have to make a batch of potato salad and an oatmeal cake for Charming's family reunion tomorrow. Two or three loads of laundry. Several errands, including grocery. Drop Blackeyed Susan at the mall, and pick her up later. Wrap a quilt for a gift at the reunion. Go see my Dad at the nursing home...

Sigh. Go see my Dad. Do I have to do it To-Day???

In April, Daddy moved to a nursing home 25 miles away, but that is not the problem. The drive through the country is quite refreshing and "cleans out my brain." I think it's a matter of Fitting One More Thing in My Day.

Well, *there's* the problem, right there! I've been thinking of visiting my Daddy as another errand, another chore!

***************************

I speak with my Dad at least five times a day. If I come home after being away a few hours, there are 8 messages on my machine--7 are from Dad. Sometimes I get more phone calls than that, if his memory isn't quite up to par that day, and he calls three times to tell me what he's had for breakfast.

Sitting with him is a sweet joy. Sometimes we sit, silent, or an old family story comes to mind. Those stories (though I may have heard them dozens of times before) are even more mellow, as six or seven or seven-and-a-half decades have passed since they've happened. Once in awhile there'll be a brand-new one for me to tuck away. The time is past, when I can hope for accuracy if I ask a question about one of the stories--his memory is sometimes faulty. So I sit and listen. I change his dvd in his machine, or open a new bag of candy. It's all very slow-paced and gentle.

That, I think, is what makes it Important. One of these times will be my last visit with him, and I don't know if any one might be "the one." Daddy has a hankerin' to cross over to where his beloved has been for 2 1/2 years. I'm grateful that he has his right mind, and we can still have great talks. Any day he could have a stroke and be gone from me. Or, like my mother, just "go to sleep" and not awaken.

So there. My attitude is adjusted, and his visit is On The Schedule. Right after the baseball game, and before All The Other Stuff.

Because a visit with Daddy is never Stuff.

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Dang.

What is the matter with me? I am so darned double-minded. Or quad-minded. Or dodecahedron-minded.

I have a Really Big Problem with organization. And routine. And deciding What To Do First. So, many times I just Chuck The Plan and do something random. But then I leave Several Things Undone.

My sister is coming for nine days this Sunday night. (Yeah!!) I did pretty well for awhile, about three weeks ago. There was some decluttering I wanted to do. Some little sewing projects for her Happy Box (annual box of little fun things--handcrafted stuff, funny magazine articles, thrift store gags). Planning a slow-paced visit with lots of Down-time.

Lost the vision last week in the panic of "oh-my-goodness-she'll-see-All-The-Dust-in-the-house-and-know-I'm-not-Wonder-Woman." Kinda got paralyzed, now don't know where to continue.

Then, last night, stopped by the local teachers' store to pick One Thing up. Now, I can't stop thinking about getting the new year's things out, making lesson plans and schedules and...

I am so pathetic.  AAACCCKKK!!!

Kind of a mental panic attack. Deer-in-the-headlights. Cornered-animal. Need to breathe.

Make a list. Cross stuff off.

Maybe I can do this.

Otherwise, she'll see the dust.

Maybe I can be human, right?

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I am reading the book A Life That Says Welcome by Karen Ehman. Its subtitle is "Simple Ways to Open Your Heart and Home to Others." It was only a few pages into the book, where I found a quote to latch onto: "When people leave your home, they should be refreshed, not impressed."

Wouldn't we all love to have a home that looks like House Beautiful or Country Living? I confess, I have a subscription to Country Living. I don't think I actually am *envious* of those homes, tho' they ARE really, really lovely. I learned somewhere, sometime, that the homes don't always look like they do in the magazines. The magazine brings in more "stuff" to "round out" what the owners already have in the rooms. So the forty-two Christmas trees in the "castle in the Adirondacks" in the December issue? The owners did not decorate all of them.

You will also notice the lack of dust on all of the people's "collections" in those mags. Twenty-thousand pairs of salt-and-pepper shakers with nary a dust bunny to be found. This is not natural, people.

Some lessons I have learned throughout my lifetime:

I don't think I have ever, ever noticed dirty woodwork in any home in which I have been a guest. So, either I am the only one in the entire universe with fingerprints on her woodwork, or, nobody is noticing Mine, either.

Don't wait for the Perfect Furniture or Painting the Walls to invite people over. I was in a ladies' Bible study once. At prayer and praise time, a woman asked if we had heard of the two murders up at Lake so-and-so that week. These were two different neighbors of hers. She then told us that the Lord had been impressing her for two years to begin a neighborhood Bible study, but she had told Him, "not until I get new carpeting." That really spoke to me, that hospitality is Not about the house or the nice china or perfect food.

Our church homeschool group holds monthly meetings in members' homes. I remember one September meeting, in a very gracious home, with a huge family room, with enough room to seat everyone. The next month was at my house, with my little square living room, where we had to put two rows of folding chairs around the circle. Later, I mentioned to a friend how lovely it would be to have a bigger room, and she told me that (another) friend and she were talking, and decided that, even though the other home was more suited to "hospitality," they actually felt more comfortable in my home. (a very lovely compliment, let me tell you...)

Now, don't get me wrong. I love pretty things, and I love to decorate for parties big and small, even if my budget is more modest. I remember growing up in the 50's and 60's. When my mother had company, the Electric Percolator was plugged in, instead of the old, everyday, aluminum coffeepot. When we saw the shiny percolator "perking," we knew we had to wash our faces and hands, and get ready to be "on our best behavior." Even if the company was "drop in," and all Mom had on hand was store-bought cookies, it seemed special to us. There was an air of "expectancy." I wonder if that is how we are to feel, in case we are "entertaining angels unaware?"

Wow, there's a thought. Maybe learning hospitality is learning how to be Expectant? I'm sure you have had the experience of thinking a get-together was going to be ordinary, but ended up anything but? Treasured memories can come from unexpected things.

I'll share one more story of an unexpected blessing from being willing to share my home and food. My daughter Forget-me-not was at a seven week summer session before her first year of college. She was at the university just seven blocks from our home. We were having a Fourth of July cookout, and we had a family visiting from out of town. As my friend Kay and I were pattying hamburgers for the grill, we were talking so much, that we pattied all eight pounds of burger I had bought on sale that week! We decided that we would be having lots of leftovers!

My daughter called and said the university was not serving dinner that night. (What were they thinking?) There was a fast-food place within walking distance, but she wanted to come home and bring her two roommates. We were sitting on the porch a little while later, when three University vans filled with students showed up. Twenty-eight in all. My daughter said, "they heard I was coming to a cookout, and I told them, no problem, my parents won't mind!"

Well, there were no leftovers that night, but we had a beautiful time, getting to know the students, many of whom were far from home. We had a great time of worship on the lawn, and the evening was far spent before everyone went home. Little did we know the blessing that the Lord had planned for us. And, of course my Mama-heart was pleased to have been able to take care of so many other Mamas' children.

As I write, many more times like these come to mind. Maybe I'm beginning to learn. Hospitality is not about outdoing the Joneses, or I'll-invite-you-because-you-invited-me reciprocating. It's all about the love of God
"shed abroad in our hearts."

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The book Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's by John Elder Robison was suggested to me, because my son Don Quixote was diagnosed with Asperger's at age 27. I will give you the same warning that was given me: the book is crude in many places. But, outside of the actual "memoir" chapters, there is a lot of insight into the way Aspies think.

My son went through what many like him do--a lot of torment from other children, because he is different. Asperger's is not a "visible" disabiity, and so people didn't think to "allow" for the disability when dealing with him. Besides, Don did not get a diagnosis until age 27.

A short, but far from complete list, if you are not familiar. Aspies:

--cannot "read" faces, and don't know when you are angry or perturbed with them

--cannot remember faces, so appear rude when they introduce themselves to someone they "should" know by now

--do not have the emotional feelings and social skills NT ("neurologically typical") people have

--because of this, they do many, many things that are socially unacceptable. One time Don asked a not-close acquaintance, "What's it like to be black?"

(to elaborate on this--Aspie's never pick up on the "social cues"--what is "acceptable" or "not acceptable"--that we NT people naturally get, just by growing up in a culture. For instance, it seems just as logical for an Aspie to ask a person "Have you gained weight? You look fatter than the last time I saw you" as "Have you lost weight? You look thinner than the last time I saw you.")

There are many other idiosyncracies, but that will give you a little picture.

In addition, Aspies can exhibit almost savant-like tendencies--my Don used to multiply two three-digit numbers in his head.

The author explained several things to me quite well. I knew that Aspies, being ridiculed by their peers, often relate well as children, to grownups or to younger children. They feel accepted and valued. My son Don gets the same acceptance by foreign people, in the ESL classes he helps with.

The author talks about scientists who study the "plasticity" of the brain, and its development over a lifetime.

Children who cannot connect socially, retreat into themselves. Profoundly autistic children (Asperger's is a higher-functioning form of autism) don't communicate at all with others. Robison feels he was saved from that, because he could interact with adults. During his childhood and adolescence, he exhibited those savant-like traits in math and science, but at the same time, was struggling socially. Now, at fifty, he has developed his social and emotional capabilities, and the other traits have diminished. He uses an analogy that I have used with my son: his focus was "laser-like" and so those "abilities" were magnified until they seemed savant-like. But, as his "world" got bigger, that laser dissipated into a much larger "brain". But, as it dissipated, the super-genius thing was not as evident. He speaks of looking at diagrams of computer circuits he designed twenty years ago, and not even recognizing them. But, he says, the trade-off is worth it--he now can connect with people, has a wife and son, and is immeasurably more happy.

One other thing the author said really spoke to me. He says:

"Many descriptions of autism and Asperger's describe people like me as "not wanting contact with others," or "preferring to play alone." ...I'd like to be clear about my own feelings: I did not EVER want to be ALONE." (p. 339 of the large-print edition)

We were ALL created with a need for love and acceptance. Aspie's appear to "like to play alone" because they are not accepted by others.

I know there is a theory that autism spectrum disorders are a result of immunizations. Don was immunized, yes, and with vaccines with mercury preservatives. But, the author of this book, because he was born in 1957, was not. A few issues ago, TOS magazine featured special needs kids, and one of the articles was about Asperger's. They gave a list of "symptoms" you could look over, to see if you wanted to get your child evaluated. I was surprised at the list: every single item could be attributed to either Charming or me. So, Don Quixote's Asperger's could also be a simple genetic mix.

One important thing to realize is that Asperger's is not a disease; therefore, it doesn't need a "cure." It's Just The Way Don Is Wired. Just because it is Neurologically Atypical, doesn't mean it isn't normal for Don. I am glad, though, that the word is getting out, and people are beginning to be educated.

This is getting Too Long, so maybe I'll write more about it another time. Since I started out to write a review of the book, here's the short version: The "memoir" portion is crude in places, but the information I gathered confirmed what my mother-heart knew, even before my son was diagnosed. I feel that it has been worth my time to read.

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The Lord has blessed this week! (of course, the Lord blesses every week, every day, every HOUR...but this week it seems, well, Obvious.

Last Sunday night, the neighbors gathered as a fire truck, ambulance, and police car came onto our block. I knew that the young woman who lived in the upstairs apartment of the house next door, had been in the hospital gravely ill a couple of weeks ago. It was funny: each of the neighbors "filled in" a little of the information. I had known she was disabled, but they parked the car in the back of the house (most of us neighbors greet each other "on the porch" or getting into the car to go on our way), so we didn't see so much of them. Another neighbor said they thought she had MS or Multiple Sclerosis. Her downstairs neighbor said she had had a lung transplant eight years ago, and Sarah's folks told her that a transplant is good for 7-9 years. At that point, I thought she probably had Cystic Fibrosis--a 20-year old with a double lung transplant suggested that to me.

When the ambulance left with no Sarah and no siren, and the policeman stayed until the Coroner's van arrived, I knew what had happened. But with all the "bits" of info, no one offered a clue whether or not she knew the Lord. Another example of the urgency we *need* to feel, as witnesses of His love and His yearning to find his "lost sheep."

Out of this event, however, Alvin Fernald was able to speak with Sarah's stepson, and prayed with him to accept the Lord. Last night, we took him to Youth Group, where he was again prayed with.

*********************

Sunday was Graduation Recognition at church, so the youth pastor spoke. At the end of his sermon, he called his seven-year old up to the platform, where he Jumped up into his Daddy's arms. He rested completely, laying his head on Daddy's shoulders. The pastor asked us, "is this what your relationship with Jesus looks like?"

Pow. Right in the kisser.

As I thought about it, I think that my relationship with Jesus looks more like, Here I am, doing my thing, and Jesus is walking beside me. If I need help, I'll let you know, thanks very much. But, as a Grown Woman, and a Mom for 32 years, I have my "job" dowm pretty well. Yet, I am Worrier Supreme. not Warrior Supreme, W-O-R-R-I-E-R.

And that should not be. How many Bible verses say Don't Worry or Take No Thought? Last night at Bible Study, I heard of three (among many) struggling with desperate illness. Grief surrounds me. Unemployment. Relationship issues. And here I was, worried because my air conditioning was p**ping out, and the forecast calling for 90's for the next few days?

Well, we changed the filter on the a/c, and Charming hosed out the outside part. Now we're back to full cooling. The Lord nudging, "just keep it clean, silly!"

My marriage? Great. My kids? Having the luxury of growing up slowly, getting to be "kids." All of us well in body. No Crises.

Me worried about the price of gasoline, or paying for school stuff, or whether...?

Hopefully, not anymore, any time soon.

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...Well, that is what the older male patients in the hospital would call me when I came in to take a blood sample. "Here comes the vampire!"

Here's another little-known fact about me: My fingerprints are on record with the FBI.

It came about this way. My little brother was dying of a congenital blood condition. Our pediatrician had heard that there was a study being done at the National Institutes of Health for this condition. They would treat my brother for free, if he could be kept alive until he arrived. He was treated with *experimental* drugs that are quite commonplace now, including Prednisone and Vinchristine. (in fact, those two drugs were part of my mother's chemotherapy when she had her cancer.) Imagine steroids being *new* and *experimental.*

My brother was in the study for 2 1/2 years, until he died. At some point, about a year into the study, the NIH invited Scotty's three siblings still at home, along with my Dad, to come for a week and be Volunteer Patients. It was incredibly fascinating for this seventh grader. The nurses and doctors from all around the world. I had planned to be a nurse when I grew up, and all of the fascinating nurses' caps from the different nursing schools--I fancied choosing my nursing school based on the cap!

But my plans for a career changed on that trip. I found out that every floor of the hospital had its own laboratory, complete with rabbits and white mice. The pipets and test tubes. The chemicals. I was enchanted. I also found out that the "lab rats" were the ones who took our blood every morning, as well as nail and hair samples.

I was "number 5" in our family. (although only four of us came to volunteer, I don't know why I was "Number 5...") Somehow, the glass syringes with which they drew my blood were always breaking. I think I had two "sticks" for every one my brothers got. No problem. I was fascinated at the way those syringes filled up by themselves after I was stuck.

(by the way, about the fingerprint part--every "guest of the government" was fingerprinted automatically. My Dad told me that now I had to Watch Out and avoid arrest, or they would Find Me Out. So far, so good...)

(by the way, Part II: did you know that the FBI was originally devised only as a repository for fingerprints? Once it was discovered that fingerprints are unique, and began being used to identify criminals, they needed a central, national place to keep them, as criminals didn't conveniently stay in the states where they committed their crimes.)

So, when I was looking at college, I found out that I could major in Medical Technology, and work in a lab for a career. Was I excited!

Well, I only got to go to college for a year, but that's okay, I met my darling Charming, and, if that's all I got, so be it! I came home, and got a job at a hospital lab as a phlebotomist. (the real name for us vampires!) Oh, how I loved it! Palpating for veins--Charming was always weirded out, because instead of holding hands I wanted to feel his veins. By then (1974) the vacuum tubes you see now for collecting blood were in use. Oh, but no computer labels--handwritten was the way to go. Gloves were only used for Infectious People. A*I*D*S was in the future--hepatitis was what we feared, if we were accidentally stuck.

When all you do all day is stick people, you get very, very good. In my two years on the job, I did newborn venipunctures (with a needle, instead of the heelstick) and even arterial punctures (in the artery in your wrist).

A few years after I quit, A*I*D*S came on the scene, and I figured I got out at a good time. I figured that if I ever went back to school, I might try the nursing thing again. But lately, I'm remembering the absolute fascination of the Laboratory. Let me tell you, the Apologia Science books are great--all the experiments! I think I drive my kids nutso, being So Darn Excited about science. Next year, Blackeyed Susan takes Biology, and then Chemistry! *Love* is in my future again!

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I'm feeling the need of some Psalm 51 today:

   ¹Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. 

   ²Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.

   ³For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.

   ⁴Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.

   ⁵Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.

   ⁶Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.

   ⁷Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

   ⁸Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.

   ⁹Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.

   ¹⁰Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

   ¹¹Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.

   ¹²Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.

   ¹³Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee. --vv. 1-13

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I have a note in my Bible next to verse 7. It says "hyssop is a plant used for scrubbing." It reminded me of my kitchen floor. Being chubby and having bad knees, the corners can get neglected week-to-week. Eventually I need to get the scrub-brush in there and get the *accumulated* grime.

That, I'm afraid, is like my life. I catch the "biggies" most of the time. When I hurt someone by a harsh word, I ask forgiveness. But I tend to "brush over" some things on my get-right-with-God list, and leave them in the corners, to build up. That's when I need Psalm 51.

I remember one incident in particular. I had been married about ten years, and had been "stuck in the house" with my six kids all week. Charming was home on Saturday, and, by golly, I was going shopping. ALONE. Never mind he was ill, and needed to sleep. "I promise, honey, I'll only be gone a little while."

Well, my shopping trip ended up being almost three hours. I remember thinking at one point, "oh, well, [Charming] will forgive me."

Red flag.

Well, of course, he did forgive me. But, of course, That Is Not The Point. I was wrong, wrong, wrong, to be so inconsiderate. And I have never forgotten that little thought--oh, well, he'll forgive me.

I so, so often treat my heavenly Father like that. I know that He will forgive me. I go on glibly, leaving "stuff" to build up in the corners of my life. Then I need that spiritual hyssop to do some scrubbing.

So, please, Lord. I'm way overdue for my Spring Cleaning. I want to be shiny and have that smell-good, Clean Feeling.

Then I get to do verse 13--"teach transgressors Thy ways, and sinners shall be converted to Thee."

Good, good stuff.

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"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth."--Genesis 1:1

"In the beginning was the Word; and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."--John 1:1

I don't think of these verses often, but when I do, they just *thrill* me. I was a biology major in college in the 70's, and, even tho' it was a Catholic university, I was required to take a semester of Evolution. Just thinking about it now makes me laugh. Studying something that isn't true and that I never believed--for an entire semester? Can I get a refund of my tuition? (don't laugh when I tell you that the entire year's monies for my private college tuition, room and board, and fees came to $3800...)

I read of people or organizations saying that Creation could not be the mechanism by which the universe began. But then, scientific method also fails: it is incumbent upon the *observable* and *reproducible*. So we end up with the Big Bang or the Primordial Soup, both leaving the unanswerable question: Where did the "stuff" of which the Big Bang or Primordial Soup were composed, come from?

Blackeyed Susan and I studied Descartes last week. You remember him: "I think, therefore I am." He decided to lock himself in a room, and begin doubting everything he could think of. He got to the place where he could doubt everything except the fact that he was "doubting." Thus, his famous saying, upon which he built his entire philosophy. He proved his existence to himself by ruling everything else out.

That is pitiful. Just pitiful. And he is one of the Great Thinkers? As we used to say in grade school, It Is To Laugh.

You who are reading this probably never met my mother. And, because of that, you might claim that she does not exist. I would have to laugh at that, since I know her. No theory or other "evidence" you could present would have any effect on me whatsoever.

So, when someone says that God does not exist, or that we cannot *know* that He exists, I might have a little chuckle. Because, you see, I KNOW Him. That is the incredible, impossible-to-believe fact. Not only do we have His Word to tell us about what really happened "in the beginning," He allow us, nay WANTS us to be in relationship with Him.

Face it, we all want and need to know we are wanted and loved. Our loving Father does not leave us in the dark. No need to wonder, He lets us know in many, many ways.

Charming and I made it a point to make the first words we spoke to each of our children the Good News: "this is the most important thing Daddy and Mommy will ever tell you. God loves you and sent His Son to die on the Cross for you so that you can be with them forever." And then the second thing: "and Daddy and Mommy love you so much!"

As mothers, we have the most precious opportunity to be the ones to bring the Truth to our little ones. Early and often. I was surprised with the many, many "teachable" moments that happened every day. And they are still happening, as I homeschool my last two children. They are finishing seventh and ninth grades, but we are full of awe when studying science or math, and the laws which the universe follows. The incredible creativity of poetry, art and music. God is a creative God, and He created us to be creative.

The greatest thing, I think, is that, even in a lifetime of study, we cannot get to the end of what God has done. What he did "in the beginning" is there for the discovery, hour by hour, day by day. We can know His creation, and Himself, for ourselves. And what you know yourself, no one can take away.

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