4/06/2008
4/04/2008
A Picture and a Poem
Red wine flesh
and magenta-stained peels.
Succulent, sweet
surprisingly orange nectar
tickling the tongue.
Dribbling down ten fingers,
leaving sticky pink trails,
a tell-tale sign.
Hands awash in
blood orange.
More Milton
These quotes from Paradise Lost are out of context and unexplained. The phrasing is just beautiful, though, making the sentiments expressed more so. May we each be able to say the first and have the second said of us.
“. . .well may we afford
Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow
From large bestowed. . .”
(Book V, lines 316-318)
“So spake the seraph Abdiel faithful found,
Among the faithless, faithful only he;
Among innumerable false, unmoved,
Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified
His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal;
Nor number, nor example with him wrought
To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind
Though single.”
(Book V, lines 896-903)
3/31/2008
The Sordid Sink Story
Here’s the scoop:
Day 1: It’s my first day in our new house. Kevin is at work. We’ve only slept here one night, and I didn’t sleep so well. The house is dusty, and the heater kicks up dust off the very dirty blinds whenever it comes on throughout the night. Since I’m still recovering from a nasty cold and am still coughing a lot anyway, I’m feeling pretty rough. Plus, breathing all the cleaner fumes and dust from cleaning the bathroom just before we went to bed got me off to a bad start for the night.
Nevertheless, it’s morning, we’re more or less moved in, and I’m determined to make some cleaning headway. I start with the stove and the smallest cabinet unit in the kitchen, both of which are thick with dust--construction and otherwise. So I’m scrubbing removable shelves and stove pans in the sink, then rinsing them. I turn the water off--but still hear water running. Freely.
That probably shouldn’t be happening.
Looking for the source of the bubbling brook, I find the remaining drain pipe from the little sink that has been removed from the now-second bedroom. (Remember that random sink?) It is gushing. Uh-oh.
Putting two and two together like the genius I am, I quickly surmise that the drain pipe from the kitchen must be connected to this drain pipe, which was left open for now (That room isn’t finished yet, remember.). I quickly call Kevin. He is busy at work, can’t talk, and tells me to call our contractor friend from church, Jim. He’s at the hospital with his mother, and I know this--but what am I going to do?
So I call, he affirms my genius deduction and says he’ll call another man in the church and ask him to come by and fix it on his way home from work.
Excellent. And, on the bright side, the gushing pipe is right next to the hole in the floor, so all the water is pouring messily into the basement--which is already messy and can’t be hurt. Besides, it’s gushing down right next to the hole in the basement floor where the sump pump is to handle flooding.
So I continue my cleaning, being careful to run all my kitchen water into a dishpan, so as not to cause further drain flooding.
Unfortunately, the man Jim calls about dropping by to plug that pipe goes home sick in the middle of the day. Jim says Kevin can probably figure out what part to get at Home Depot after he gets home. We can handle that.
Then! A banging on the door! Who is here? Does anyone even know I live here now?
Yes! Our pastor does! He was conveniently out this direction, heard what was going on (I’m still not sure how, exactly) and dropped by to fix the problem. He has the wrong part, but returns a few minutes later with a replacement and--voila!--no more open, gushing drain pipe.
I drain my sink full of water. No leaking (except for the small one under the sink, where the trap is corroded--I haven’t mentioned that yet, but it wasn’t a big problem. . .thus far).
End of Chapter 1
With the gushing drain pipe plugged, I am free to use my kitchen sink again, and I am glad. There is a lot of washing to be done, after all.
That evening, however, the sink drain slows to a trickle. Two inches of water in the sink, ten minutes of draining. Three rinses and waits to drain to keep whatever debris is in the water from drying all over the sink. Apparently, with no open drain pipe to gush from, the kitchen sink does not wish to drain at all.
We try Liquid Plumber, and the leak under the sink suddenly becomes worse. Still, it’s not too heavy. In the next day or two, Kevin replaces the corroded trap with a new one. In the process, the threads from the next section of drainpipe, break off. Now the leak is more serious. And the drain is still painfully slow.
I finally finish my four-day section-by-section first mopping of the kitchen, and the 5-gallon sheetrock mud bucket I was using for mop water becomes my slop bucket. I wash dishes and run all kitchen water in a dishpan, which I then empty into the bucket. In the evening, Kevin empties the bucket in the utility sink downstairs. Over the weekend, we consult with Jim again and he advises what to do about the next section of drainpipe (it’s copper and welded on. . .not a simple unscrew and replace job).
Monday, I go to Home Depot while Kevin is at work, hoping to get the sink parts for him and save him a trip (we’re both there enough these days, as it is). The men helping me find what I need have very difficult time understanding what I’m looking for--quite probably because I don’t know what it’s called and my description is. . .decidedly inexperienced. I do, however, finally get the idea across and emerge with the parts.
Kevin is working in D.C. now and doesn’t get home until almost 7 o’clock. But he spends the evening fixing the sink anyway, and is successful! Well. . .kind of. The leak goes away. But the slow drain does not. Apparently, the clogged pipe is not part of the trap.
End of Chapter 2
A week later, we’re still dealing with the slow drain. I run water in the sink when I need to, letting it drain completely and rinsing it several times (little by little) to keep it relatively clean. I still dump a fair amount of water in the mud bucket, and Kevin empties it every couple of days. I need my mop bucket back, though. . .so something needs to change there.
It’s Monday, and I’ve been delaying washing dishes (no dishwasher until we remodel, remember) for several days, because the sink is a pain and it’s easier to do them all at once than a few at a time. Now, however, the time has come. So I put the stopper in one side of the sink and commence running water. Now, understand, when you run water in one side of the sink and it doesn’t drain well, it backs up into the other side. And my stopper is. . .somewhat incompetent. So it leaks water, which quickly backs up into the other side of the sink. Whatever. I keep the hot water running barely, to rinse dishes and keep my sink with enough dishwater in it. It takes a while, but I get everything washed.
I release the stopper. . .not like that will make the sink drain faster, but it’s what you do when you finish washing dishes.
Suddenly, there’s a loud pop and a gurgling, and I jump back, unsure what is happening. BOTH SIDES OF THE SINK SPONTANEOUSLY DRAIN. I run to the plugged drainpipe.
It’s still plugged.
I check under the sink.
No leaking.
I run down to the basement, sure that water is pouring out of a pipe somewhere.
No water.
Eureka! Elation! Ecstasy!
The sink DRAINS!!!
Chapter 4
Later this afternoon, I did call Grandad. I just had to make sure it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that whatever blockage there was had broken itself free, finally. He assured me that could be exactly what happened and probably was, if we couldn’t find any leaks anywhere. All the pipes are exposed in the basement ceiling, so there’s nowhere for leaking water to hide.
Hooray! Something has fixed itself! May this be the precursor of many spontaneously solved problems to come!
Day 1: It’s my first day in our new house. Kevin is at work. We’ve only slept here one night, and I didn’t sleep so well. The house is dusty, and the heater kicks up dust off the very dirty blinds whenever it comes on throughout the night. Since I’m still recovering from a nasty cold and am still coughing a lot anyway, I’m feeling pretty rough. Plus, breathing all the cleaner fumes and dust from cleaning the bathroom just before we went to bed got me off to a bad start for the night.
Nevertheless, it’s morning, we’re more or less moved in, and I’m determined to make some cleaning headway. I start with the stove and the smallest cabinet unit in the kitchen, both of which are thick with dust--construction and otherwise. So I’m scrubbing removable shelves and stove pans in the sink, then rinsing them. I turn the water off--but still hear water running. Freely.
That probably shouldn’t be happening.
Looking for the source of the bubbling brook, I find the remaining drain pipe from the little sink that has been removed from the now-second bedroom. (Remember that random sink?) It is gushing. Uh-oh.
Putting two and two together like the genius I am, I quickly surmise that the drain pipe from the kitchen must be connected to this drain pipe, which was left open for now (That room isn’t finished yet, remember.). I quickly call Kevin. He is busy at work, can’t talk, and tells me to call our contractor friend from church, Jim. He’s at the hospital with his mother, and I know this--but what am I going to do?
So I call, he affirms my genius deduction and says he’ll call another man in the church and ask him to come by and fix it on his way home from work.
Excellent. And, on the bright side, the gushing pipe is right next to the hole in the floor, so all the water is pouring messily into the basement--which is already messy and can’t be hurt. Besides, it’s gushing down right next to the hole in the basement floor where the sump pump is to handle flooding.
So I continue my cleaning, being careful to run all my kitchen water into a dishpan, so as not to cause further drain flooding.
Unfortunately, the man Jim calls about dropping by to plug that pipe goes home sick in the middle of the day. Jim says Kevin can probably figure out what part to get at Home Depot after he gets home. We can handle that.
Then! A banging on the door! Who is here? Does anyone even know I live here now?
Yes! Our pastor does! He was conveniently out this direction, heard what was going on (I’m still not sure how, exactly) and dropped by to fix the problem. He has the wrong part, but returns a few minutes later with a replacement and--voila!--no more open, gushing drain pipe.
I drain my sink full of water. No leaking (except for the small one under the sink, where the trap is corroded--I haven’t mentioned that yet, but it wasn’t a big problem. . .thus far).
End of Chapter 1
With the gushing drain pipe plugged, I am free to use my kitchen sink again, and I am glad. There is a lot of washing to be done, after all.
That evening, however, the sink drain slows to a trickle. Two inches of water in the sink, ten minutes of draining. Three rinses and waits to drain to keep whatever debris is in the water from drying all over the sink. Apparently, with no open drain pipe to gush from, the kitchen sink does not wish to drain at all.
We try Liquid Plumber, and the leak under the sink suddenly becomes worse. Still, it’s not too heavy. In the next day or two, Kevin replaces the corroded trap with a new one. In the process, the threads from the next section of drainpipe, break off. Now the leak is more serious. And the drain is still painfully slow.
I finally finish my four-day section-by-section first mopping of the kitchen, and the 5-gallon sheetrock mud bucket I was using for mop water becomes my slop bucket. I wash dishes and run all kitchen water in a dishpan, which I then empty into the bucket. In the evening, Kevin empties the bucket in the utility sink downstairs. Over the weekend, we consult with Jim again and he advises what to do about the next section of drainpipe (it’s copper and welded on. . .not a simple unscrew and replace job).
Monday, I go to Home Depot while Kevin is at work, hoping to get the sink parts for him and save him a trip (we’re both there enough these days, as it is). The men helping me find what I need have very difficult time understanding what I’m looking for--quite probably because I don’t know what it’s called and my description is. . .decidedly inexperienced. I do, however, finally get the idea across and emerge with the parts.
Kevin is working in D.C. now and doesn’t get home until almost 7 o’clock. But he spends the evening fixing the sink anyway, and is successful! Well. . .kind of. The leak goes away. But the slow drain does not. Apparently, the clogged pipe is not part of the trap.
End of Chapter 2
A week later, we’re still dealing with the slow drain. I run water in the sink when I need to, letting it drain completely and rinsing it several times (little by little) to keep it relatively clean. I still dump a fair amount of water in the mud bucket, and Kevin empties it every couple of days. I need my mop bucket back, though. . .so something needs to change there.
It’s Monday, and I’ve been delaying washing dishes (no dishwasher until we remodel, remember) for several days, because the sink is a pain and it’s easier to do them all at once than a few at a time. Now, however, the time has come. So I put the stopper in one side of the sink and commence running water. Now, understand, when you run water in one side of the sink and it doesn’t drain well, it backs up into the other side. And my stopper is. . .somewhat incompetent. So it leaks water, which quickly backs up into the other side of the sink. Whatever. I keep the hot water running barely, to rinse dishes and keep my sink with enough dishwater in it. It takes a while, but I get everything washed.
I release the stopper. . .not like that will make the sink drain faster, but it’s what you do when you finish washing dishes.
Suddenly, there’s a loud pop and a gurgling, and I jump back, unsure what is happening. BOTH SIDES OF THE SINK SPONTANEOUSLY DRAIN. I run to the plugged drainpipe.
It’s still plugged.
I check under the sink.
No leaking.
I run down to the basement, sure that water is pouring out of a pipe somewhere.
No water.
Eureka! Elation! Ecstasy!
The sink DRAINS!!!
Chapter 4
Later this afternoon, I did call Grandad. I just had to make sure it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that whatever blockage there was had broken itself free, finally. He assured me that could be exactly what happened and probably was, if we couldn’t find any leaks anywhere. All the pipes are exposed in the basement ceiling, so there’s nowhere for leaking water to hide.
Hooray! Something has fixed itself! May this be the precursor of many spontaneously solved problems to come!
The News
Remember when we first moved to Maryland and were without Internet service for the first six weeks? Ever heard that history tends to repeat itself?
We’ve been living in our house for a bit over 2 weeks now, and it will be another 2 and ½ before we have Internet access. Thus, sparse blogging. Again.
In house news, we’re making (slow) progress. The kitchen and I, while still battling furiously, have reached a grudging, two-fold understanding. What, you may well ask, is the substance of that understanding? First, it is that I will survive the kitchen. That is, when all is said and done and this kitchen has passed away to Kitchen--well, we won’t venture to say where this kitchen will spend eternity, as judgment is not the purview of man--but when it has gone to its eternal place of rest, I will still be here with its successor. Second, in this war of wills between cleanliness and grime, I will win. That, I hope, is self-explanatory.
So far, 4 of the 6 storage units (call them cabinets and counters if you will) have been scrubbed inside and out, papered, and inhabited by our kitchen accoutrements. The other 2--the largest and most intimidating 2--are awaiting their scouring. The floor has been swept and mopped once, resulting in one layer less of dirt. It begs for a repeat performance and will get it in due time. The stove absolutely gleams--as long as you don’t lift the stove pans. I’ve only cleaned (really cleaned--I did vacuum out all the loose dust and cobwebs) under 1 of the 3 of those. The chrome on the stove looks like chrome again, and the gas burners and I are getting to know one another admirably. The oven has not yet been touched. I refuse to clean it until we’re sure that it works, and, since the pilot light is out and has to be manually ignited to turn it on, I’ve not yet done that. The exhaust fan over the stove, after 90 minutes of scrubbing and 2 sore arms, is about half clean--the half you can see, though, so I feel better about it. I’ve vacuumed cobwebs and dust from the ceiling, windows, walls, and baseboards; washed and given away the curtains; sprayed and wiped down the walls and baseboards behind furniture. And, amazingly enough, we have at least half of our dishes and foodstuffs unpacked.
We bought the first microwave of our married bliss. Kevin replaced the leaking, corroded trap under the sink (the kitchen sink’s story entire is a whole post in and of itself). He put up towel racks in the bathroom, put knobs on the closet doors, and is in the midst of reinforcing the clothes rod--another task that turned into a bigger ordeal than planned. Soon (hopefully), we’ll find a light fixture for the dining room and material to make curtains for the kitchen, dining room, and living room. There is light ahead.
In baby news, this Thursday will mark 20 weeks, halfway. We have an ultrasound and checkup scheduled for next week, though we’re not going to have the baby’s gender revealed to us. I’ve been feeling well most of the time, and my eating schedule has settled into something more manageable than every 75 minutes. I got a few maternity clothes at one of the local church’s clothes swap this weekend, and we also came home from there with an electric swing in great condition. Our church is giving us a shower in April, while my mom is here to visit. Kevin’s mom and her mom are planning to come up for the festivities as well, though they’ll only be here for that weekend. So, we registered for baby things at Target on Sunday--at least, for most of the bigger stuff. I balk at registering for the little things--onesies, sleepers, crib sheets, blankets, bibs, etc.--because they’re more fun to choose, and we’d rather receive whatever people want to pick out than what we specifically request. Mostly, we searched for the model of each item with the fewest number of bells, whistles, and flashing lights. What does a baby need with battery-operated accessories, anyway?
In random news, Kevin has been working in D.C. for the past week and will continue to do so for this week. That means he leaves the house a bit before 6:30 each morning and gets home sometime between 6:30 and 7:00 each evening. It’s been tiring for both of us, but only for a few more days now. There are trees, bushes, and flowers blooming and budding in earnest here, and I’m thrilled to watch them. Spring is a beautiful thing. We’ll need to buy a lawn mower soon for the meager grass our yard boasts. I hope we’ll get at least a small garden planted this year--tomatoes and peppers, if nothing else--but we’ll see how that goes.
That’s our update for the past week. I promise to take more pictures after the war with the kitchen is over. It takes most of my energy these days. . .none left for artistic pursuits, even simple photography. Have a lovely week, and we’ll meet you here, same place, next week for more news.
We’ve been living in our house for a bit over 2 weeks now, and it will be another 2 and ½ before we have Internet access. Thus, sparse blogging. Again.
In house news, we’re making (slow) progress. The kitchen and I, while still battling furiously, have reached a grudging, two-fold understanding. What, you may well ask, is the substance of that understanding? First, it is that I will survive the kitchen. That is, when all is said and done and this kitchen has passed away to Kitchen--well, we won’t venture to say where this kitchen will spend eternity, as judgment is not the purview of man--but when it has gone to its eternal place of rest, I will still be here with its successor. Second, in this war of wills between cleanliness and grime, I will win. That, I hope, is self-explanatory.
So far, 4 of the 6 storage units (call them cabinets and counters if you will) have been scrubbed inside and out, papered, and inhabited by our kitchen accoutrements. The other 2--the largest and most intimidating 2--are awaiting their scouring. The floor has been swept and mopped once, resulting in one layer less of dirt. It begs for a repeat performance and will get it in due time. The stove absolutely gleams--as long as you don’t lift the stove pans. I’ve only cleaned (really cleaned--I did vacuum out all the loose dust and cobwebs) under 1 of the 3 of those. The chrome on the stove looks like chrome again, and the gas burners and I are getting to know one another admirably. The oven has not yet been touched. I refuse to clean it until we’re sure that it works, and, since the pilot light is out and has to be manually ignited to turn it on, I’ve not yet done that. The exhaust fan over the stove, after 90 minutes of scrubbing and 2 sore arms, is about half clean--the half you can see, though, so I feel better about it. I’ve vacuumed cobwebs and dust from the ceiling, windows, walls, and baseboards; washed and given away the curtains; sprayed and wiped down the walls and baseboards behind furniture. And, amazingly enough, we have at least half of our dishes and foodstuffs unpacked.
We bought the first microwave of our married bliss. Kevin replaced the leaking, corroded trap under the sink (the kitchen sink’s story entire is a whole post in and of itself). He put up towel racks in the bathroom, put knobs on the closet doors, and is in the midst of reinforcing the clothes rod--another task that turned into a bigger ordeal than planned. Soon (hopefully), we’ll find a light fixture for the dining room and material to make curtains for the kitchen, dining room, and living room. There is light ahead.
In baby news, this Thursday will mark 20 weeks, halfway. We have an ultrasound and checkup scheduled for next week, though we’re not going to have the baby’s gender revealed to us. I’ve been feeling well most of the time, and my eating schedule has settled into something more manageable than every 75 minutes. I got a few maternity clothes at one of the local church’s clothes swap this weekend, and we also came home from there with an electric swing in great condition. Our church is giving us a shower in April, while my mom is here to visit. Kevin’s mom and her mom are planning to come up for the festivities as well, though they’ll only be here for that weekend. So, we registered for baby things at Target on Sunday--at least, for most of the bigger stuff. I balk at registering for the little things--onesies, sleepers, crib sheets, blankets, bibs, etc.--because they’re more fun to choose, and we’d rather receive whatever people want to pick out than what we specifically request. Mostly, we searched for the model of each item with the fewest number of bells, whistles, and flashing lights. What does a baby need with battery-operated accessories, anyway?
In random news, Kevin has been working in D.C. for the past week and will continue to do so for this week. That means he leaves the house a bit before 6:30 each morning and gets home sometime between 6:30 and 7:00 each evening. It’s been tiring for both of us, but only for a few more days now. There are trees, bushes, and flowers blooming and budding in earnest here, and I’m thrilled to watch them. Spring is a beautiful thing. We’ll need to buy a lawn mower soon for the meager grass our yard boasts. I hope we’ll get at least a small garden planted this year--tomatoes and peppers, if nothing else--but we’ll see how that goes.
That’s our update for the past week. I promise to take more pictures after the war with the kitchen is over. It takes most of my energy these days. . .none left for artistic pursuits, even simple photography. Have a lovely week, and we’ll meet you here, same place, next week for more news.
3/23/2008
Easter - 18 Weeks
I think this picture--or this dress--actually makes me look a little bigger than I am as of yet, but I'm sure it won't be long. :-) We took this one one end of our enclosed porch, one of the few spaces--if not the only--in the house where we could find a background clear of construction or boxes.
3/21/2008
Happy Easter
Easter is my favorite of the holidays. I like that it's less-commercialized than Christmas (There are 3 aisles of paraphernalia at Wal-mart instead of 15.). It is, really, the essence of Christianity--without Easter, there would be no reason for Christ. It is the time of year that the Crucifixion and the Redemption it brings are the most real to me, the most present in my thoughts and life.
Tonight we went to the Good Friday service at church. Some thoughts:
One of the elders, discussing Christ's cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" mentioned that nowhere else in the account of the Passion does Christ cry out. He does not respond to the charges against Him. He does not--as far as we know--cry out at the physical abuse: the whip, the thorns, the nails, the spear. He does not reply to the mockery. He does not respond to anything, until the full wrath of God--the wrath that met justice's demands for our sin--weighs upon Him. In short, the unimaginable suffering cannot do what my sin accomplishes in a moment.
It is appropriate, if perhaps cliche, to offer George Herbert's Easter Wings for your perusal this weekend. The formatting may be lost, for which I apologize. Be blessed in the grace that is ours by the mercy of God.
Tonight we went to the Good Friday service at church. Some thoughts:
One of the elders, discussing Christ's cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" mentioned that nowhere else in the account of the Passion does Christ cry out. He does not respond to the charges against Him. He does not--as far as we know--cry out at the physical abuse: the whip, the thorns, the nails, the spear. He does not reply to the mockery. He does not respond to anything, until the full wrath of God--the wrath that met justice's demands for our sin--weighs upon Him. In short, the unimaginable suffering cannot do what my sin accomplishes in a moment.
It is appropriate, if perhaps cliche, to offer George Herbert's Easter Wings for your perusal this weekend. The formatting may be lost, for which I apologize. Be blessed in the grace that is ours by the mercy of God.
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With Thee
O let me rise,
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day Thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne;
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With Thee
Let me combine,
And feel this day Thy victorie;
For, if I imp my wing on Thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
3/19/2008
Moving In
Congratulate us! We've now slept in our new house for 3 nights. Cleaning and packing and unpacking still in process, but here are some pictures:
The Kitchen, Before
My first corner of sanity
Our Maple tree is budding. . .
and would look like this, if it hadn't recently been butchered. Errr. . .trimmed.
The fat, happy robin doesn't seem to mind.
No time now to relate all the gory details. . .maybe later. Maybe not. Suffice to say progress is being made, and sanity will spread.
The Kitchen, Before
My first corner of sanity
Our Maple tree is budding. . .
and would look like this, if it hadn't recently been butchered. Errr. . .trimmed.
The fat, happy robin doesn't seem to mind.
No time now to relate all the gory details. . .maybe later. Maybe not. Suffice to say progress is being made, and sanity will spread.
3/14/2008
For Love of Flannery
For any of you who I've yet to convert to Flannery O'Connor aficionados. . .
Here is a good write-up about her art, and what comprises Christian art.
Here is a good write-up about her art, and what comprises Christian art.
3/11/2008
More on The Hole
The Hole (see last picture of previous post) was created by removing floor boards to replace the plywood rectangle in the dining room where there was, at some point in the house's past, a floor furnace.
I suggested to the men that it wasn't safe to have a hole like that in the Baby's room, but they insist it won't be a problem. (Joke. That was a joke.)
On the other hand, I suggested it could be an enduring object lesson--to go with Jonathan Edwards' great imagery in Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. You know, the part where we are all dangling like spiders over the pit of Hell and are only saved from falling by the mercy of God, which could end at any second?
Sorry, that's probably only slightly funny--even if you are Reformed, recognize Edwards' sermon, and have my slightly twisted sense of humor.
Not to worry, the hole will be repaired long before Baby arrives.
I suggested to the men that it wasn't safe to have a hole like that in the Baby's room, but they insist it won't be a problem. (Joke. That was a joke.)
On the other hand, I suggested it could be an enduring object lesson--to go with Jonathan Edwards' great imagery in Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. You know, the part where we are all dangling like spiders over the pit of Hell and are only saved from falling by the mercy of God, which could end at any second?
Sorry, that's probably only slightly funny--even if you are Reformed, recognize Edwards' sermon, and have my slightly twisted sense of humor.
Not to worry, the hole will be repaired long before Baby arrives.
Moving Soon!
Hooray! We have some furniture actually IN THE HOUSE now (the pieces we bought with the house are back inside from their temporary storage on the enclosed porch), and we expect to move the rest of our furniture by the end of this weekend. We could actually have Easter in our new home!
There's still a lot of work to do, of course, as there will be for several years to come. The baby's room is still in a woefully unfinished stage, as it is not immediately essential. The trim--baseboards, window, door, etc.--has yet to be stripped, painted, and replaced. The new half bathroom is only an unfinished little square--without drywall, even--and the master bath is replete with tacky metallic wallpaper. The kitchen--well, that's not on the agenda yet.
Nevertheless, the walls and floors and lights are ready in our bedroom, the living room, and the dining room. The master bath has a temporary shower in place. The kitchen, vintage 1950's, is functional. And that is all we really need.
For many reasons, we are ready to move. The decrease in Kevin's commute time will literally cut our gas budget by at least 50%, if not more. Proximity to his workplace will also make it easy for me to have the car when I need it for grocery shopping and such during the day, instead of making Kevin go with me in the evenings. It will be so much easier to work on the house when we have a little time, rather than needing to set aside hours or days to go over there. There will only be one utility bill. And, last but not least, it's almost SPRING, and I want to PLANT things!
Here are a few pictures of the latest progress:
Flowers in the Backyard, almost ready to bloom
New Closet doors for the New Closet in the MBR
New Shower
Our New-Used Furniture, not yet cleaned of construction dust
Just to keep things in perspective--the gaping hole in the Baby's Room
Could that, perhaps, be a safety hazard???
There's still a lot of work to do, of course, as there will be for several years to come. The baby's room is still in a woefully unfinished stage, as it is not immediately essential. The trim--baseboards, window, door, etc.--has yet to be stripped, painted, and replaced. The new half bathroom is only an unfinished little square--without drywall, even--and the master bath is replete with tacky metallic wallpaper. The kitchen--well, that's not on the agenda yet.
Nevertheless, the walls and floors and lights are ready in our bedroom, the living room, and the dining room. The master bath has a temporary shower in place. The kitchen, vintage 1950's, is functional. And that is all we really need.
For many reasons, we are ready to move. The decrease in Kevin's commute time will literally cut our gas budget by at least 50%, if not more. Proximity to his workplace will also make it easy for me to have the car when I need it for grocery shopping and such during the day, instead of making Kevin go with me in the evenings. It will be so much easier to work on the house when we have a little time, rather than needing to set aside hours or days to go over there. There will only be one utility bill. And, last but not least, it's almost SPRING, and I want to PLANT things!
Here are a few pictures of the latest progress:
Flowers in the Backyard, almost ready to bloom
New Closet doors for the New Closet in the MBR
New Shower
Our New-Used Furniture, not yet cleaned of construction dust
Just to keep things in perspective--the gaping hole in the Baby's Room
Could that, perhaps, be a safety hazard???
3/06/2008
The Great Thing About Wood Floors Is. . .
they make excellent cutting guides!
I was cutting some fabric this afternoon. While I do have a rotary cutter and mat, they were inconvenient for my task. However, I do not trust myself to cut a long straight line with scissors. What to do?
Wood floors to the rescue! The slight grooves between the boards are just perfect to guide my scissor tips, providing a perfectly straight line for my now-perfectly-rectangular fabric. Genius!
I was cutting some fabric this afternoon. While I do have a rotary cutter and mat, they were inconvenient for my task. However, I do not trust myself to cut a long straight line with scissors. What to do?
Wood floors to the rescue! The slight grooves between the boards are just perfect to guide my scissor tips, providing a perfectly straight line for my now-perfectly-rectangular fabric. Genius!
Gracious Betrayal
My newfound similarities with the shirefolk prompted an urge to watch the Tolkien movies again--and to read the books, but I am determined to finish Paradise Lost first. So, in the past couple weeks, we've watched the first two of the trilogy. And I was thinking. . .
(Of course, Tolkien's series are rich in analogies to life, and perhaps this one isn't new. Nevertheless, I'll share it.)
In The Two Towers, Frodo and Sam are captured by men from Gondor. Gollum, serving as their guide to Mordor, is (initially) not. Hungry for fresh fish, however, he goes fishing in the "forbidden pool" outside the soldiers' caves. Rather than see him killed, Frodo confesses that Gollum is bound to serve him and then tricks Gollum into being captured.
Gollum, understandably, is furious at Frodo's betrayal. He does not know that his life has been spared, only that at Frodo's persuasion, he has fallen into captivity and abuse. The trust that he had developed in Frodo's good intentions toward him is dissolved, and, shortly thereafter, he hatches his plan to lead Frodo and Sam to their deaths.
We are sometimes in Gollum's position, happily going about our business--as Gollum is playfully enjoying the water and the prospect of fresh food--when we are jerked up short. We may be caught by pain or temptation or an unpleasant situation. And, like Gollum, we turn reproachfully upon our Master as if he had betrayed us--never realizing that, in subjecting us to the circumstance, He has saved our lives.
If Gollum had seen clearly enough to know Frodo's heart, to know the sympathy and kindness Frodo intended toward him, he would not have turned against him. He might have been confused, and certainly dismayed, but not bitter. Likewise, if we know our Father well enough to know His unconditional love for us, we cannot rail against the difficulties He allows us to endure. Although we may not understand how, we know that He is saving not only our lives, but our eternal souls.
(Of course, Tolkien's series are rich in analogies to life, and perhaps this one isn't new. Nevertheless, I'll share it.)
In The Two Towers, Frodo and Sam are captured by men from Gondor. Gollum, serving as their guide to Mordor, is (initially) not. Hungry for fresh fish, however, he goes fishing in the "forbidden pool" outside the soldiers' caves. Rather than see him killed, Frodo confesses that Gollum is bound to serve him and then tricks Gollum into being captured.
Gollum, understandably, is furious at Frodo's betrayal. He does not know that his life has been spared, only that at Frodo's persuasion, he has fallen into captivity and abuse. The trust that he had developed in Frodo's good intentions toward him is dissolved, and, shortly thereafter, he hatches his plan to lead Frodo and Sam to their deaths.
We are sometimes in Gollum's position, happily going about our business--as Gollum is playfully enjoying the water and the prospect of fresh food--when we are jerked up short. We may be caught by pain or temptation or an unpleasant situation. And, like Gollum, we turn reproachfully upon our Master as if he had betrayed us--never realizing that, in subjecting us to the circumstance, He has saved our lives.
If Gollum had seen clearly enough to know Frodo's heart, to know the sympathy and kindness Frodo intended toward him, he would not have turned against him. He might have been confused, and certainly dismayed, but not bitter. Likewise, if we know our Father well enough to know His unconditional love for us, we cannot rail against the difficulties He allows us to endure. Although we may not understand how, we know that He is saving not only our lives, but our eternal souls.
3/05/2008
I Confess to Being Conservative
At the risk of annoying some, I share this quote from John Derbyshire on The Corner on National Review Online.
I grant that this ends a bit harshly. And I grant that I do not know enough to readily offer a solution to our current healthcare conundrum. However, I submit that, without many of our subsidized programs, the demand for expensive treatments would lessen, driving costs down--which would, in turn, increase the demand and restore some sort of market balance to the system. Just a thought.
The entire problem with healthcare is that it's a risk-reward curve. How far do you want to (or: can afford to) let people go along the curve? About 95 percent of the healthcare that people need can perfectly well be supplied by nursing assistants with a couple of years' training, or Third World providers like the ones I discussed. When you climb up into the remaining five percent, you are in the zone where real doctors and expensive equipment are needed. Keep going and you enter the zone of million-dollar drugs, teams of specialists, experimental technology, and months of intensive care. A billionaire can of course travel all the way along the curve. Should the rest of us be able to? Our system is organized around the answer "yes." This is probably untenable. Sooner or later you're going to die. Get used to it.
I grant that this ends a bit harshly. And I grant that I do not know enough to readily offer a solution to our current healthcare conundrum. However, I submit that, without many of our subsidized programs, the demand for expensive treatments would lessen, driving costs down--which would, in turn, increase the demand and restore some sort of market balance to the system. Just a thought.
3/04/2008
Have you read this?
It is not often I see a book of contemporary fiction that truly interests me. My book-sense, I believe, is irrevocably married to the classics. This post from Wittingshire, however, begged investigation. And further investigation begs to read the book, which is classified as being in the tradition of the Brontes and du Maurier (hence, true to my classics-love).
It's called The Thirteenth Tale and is by Briton Diane Setterfield. The biography quote that first demanded by attention? "I'm used to living a really quiet life with lots of space to think. I'm not used to being so busy and social and meeting all these people. It's not that I'm anti-social, just that I like my own company, and I've been living with people who aren't real for the past few years – I find real people a lot more demanding."
Check out the book's promotional website (there's a link on the Wittingshire page)--it's wonderfully Gothic.
It's called The Thirteenth Tale and is by Briton Diane Setterfield. The biography quote that first demanded by attention? "I'm used to living a really quiet life with lots of space to think. I'm not used to being so busy and social and meeting all these people. It's not that I'm anti-social, just that I like my own company, and I've been living with people who aren't real for the past few years – I find real people a lot more demanding."
Check out the book's promotional website (there's a link on the Wittingshire page)--it's wonderfully Gothic.
3/03/2008
*Blink*
Please explain to me how some states prosecute unlicensed daycare providers and some states pay them--even if their only claim to provider status is providing daycare for a family member--and want to force them to form a union, so they can bargain for more pay and benefits. Benefits!?!
Will I get a state paycheck for staying home with our baby? I mean, if grandmas can be paid for childcare, why not moms?
Will I get a state paycheck for staying home with our baby? I mean, if grandmas can be paid for childcare, why not moms?
3/02/2008
By Popular Demand
For all of you clamoring to observe my progression to a larger-than-average waistline. . .here's your first glimpse.
3/01/2008
A Hearty Laugh
I'm not sure I buy the distinct inner dichotomy Mr. Fea depicts here, but the opening paragraph is good for a laugh.
Can Presbyterians fall in love? Okay, everyone falls in love, but when people think of Presbyterians they normally conjure up images of stoic Protestants whose kids eat oatmeal and memorize the Westminster Confession of Faith. Reverend Maclean, the Montana minister and father figure played by Tom Skerritt in A River Runs Through It, comes to mind. Presbyterians don't "fall" in love—they rationally, and with good sense, ease themselves into it.
Presbyterians in Love, by John Fea
2/29/2008
Thoughts from Milton
When we read Milton's Paradise Lost--excerpts, I think--in college, I remember being annoyed that the professor discussed Milton's depiction of Satan as a pitiful figure, a character deserving of sympathy. It struck me as sacrilegious to view the demon as anything more than pure evil, deserving of the torment promised him. Reading Milton now on my own, however, I wonder if the professor intended to communicate (whether the breakdown was on his part or mine) Milton's success in humanizing Satan. That is, Satan's soliloquies open to me the dangerous likeness of my own sinful heart--not, I hope, to create sympathy for him, but to issue warning for me.
This quote is an example. In this passage, Satan is discoursing with himself on his fall from grace. I note that the subjection of gratitude, to God who has graciously given all things to us who merit none, is also our duty--and that the temptation to resent that duty as a burden is also a human one. I like how the quote ends, acknowledging that what we may be tempted to call a burden is really nothing like--and belying Milton's unusual depiction of an eloquent and, perhaps, pitiable devil with Satan's orthodox rejection of his own delusion.
This quote is an example. In this passage, Satan is discoursing with himself on his fall from grace. I note that the subjection of gratitude, to God who has graciously given all things to us who merit none, is also our duty--and that the temptation to resent that duty as a burden is also a human one. I like how the quote ends, acknowledging that what we may be tempted to call a burden is really nothing like--and belying Milton's unusual depiction of an eloquent and, perhaps, pitiable devil with Satan's orthodox rejection of his own delusion.
. . . lifted up so high
I'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome still paying, still to owe;
Forgetful what from him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then?
Book IV, Lines 49-57
2/24/2008
Finished Floors
The floors were sanded and finished this weekend; here are the pictures.
Our room, with primed walls waiting for paint.
The dining room
The living room
A bit of a close-up
. . .and, us.
Our room, with primed walls waiting for paint.
The dining room
The living room
A bit of a close-up
. . .and, us.
2/22/2008
Hobbit Hunger
I have a strong suspicion that I'm turning into a hobbit. I only hope my feet don't get hairy.
The reason? My predisposition to eat and this, from the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings:
"And laugh they [hobbits] did, and eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond. . .of six meals a day (when they could get them)."
And this, from the movie The Fellowship of the Ring:
"Aragorn: Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall.
Pippin: What about breakfast?
Aragorn: You've already had it.
Pippin: We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?
[Aragorn turns and walks off in disgust]
Merry: I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.
Pippin: What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?
Merry: I wouldn't count on it."
The reason? My predisposition to eat and this, from the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings:
"And laugh they [hobbits] did, and eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond. . .of six meals a day (when they could get them)."
And this, from the movie The Fellowship of the Ring:
"Aragorn: Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall.
Pippin: What about breakfast?
Aragorn: You've already had it.
Pippin: We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?
[Aragorn turns and walks off in disgust]
Merry: I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.
Pippin: What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?
Merry: I wouldn't count on it."
Pocket Full of Posies
Tea Posies, that is. Kevin gave me a fun Tea Posy teapot and tea for Christmas, and I've never gotten around to sharing pictures. I made tea for myself this morning, however (it's snowy, icy, rainy, and dreary here. . .perfect tea weather), so here are some fun pictures of the process.
Step One: Teapot and Unopened Posy
Step Two: Opened Posy in the Pot
Step Three: Add boiling water and watch it unfurl!
Step Four: Allow several minutes to steep. As this blend steeps, the posy "snows."
Step Five: After finishing the tea, refill with cold water as a floral centerpiece for 2 or 3 days
Step One: Teapot and Unopened Posy
Step Two: Opened Posy in the Pot
Step Three: Add boiling water and watch it unfurl!
Step Four: Allow several minutes to steep. As this blend steeps, the posy "snows."
Step Five: After finishing the tea, refill with cold water as a floral centerpiece for 2 or 3 days
2/19/2008
Colored Walls
The lighting and computer media combine to make getting a good sense of color somewhat difficult, but here are the now-painted dining room and living room pictures.
2/18/2008
Today, I Went for a Walk
It's a beautiful 72 degrees here, sunny, breezy, and utterly un-February-like. I've just returned from an enjoyable half-hour stroll about the neighborhood. Tomorrow, the high is 45.
Kevin, off today in honor of our 1st and 16th presidents (Whatever would we have done if their birthdays had been in, say, January and September???), is painting our new house with the help of some men from church. So far, progress reports indicate that the muted gray-blue we chose for the dining room is really more of a lilac. Oops.
The choice of bold colors (bold meaning anything not of palest pale hue) comes with added risk, I suppose. Hopefully the other colors are closer to what we think they are--especially the living room, since it opens into the dining room and the colors will be juxtaposed. I'll post pictures when I get them.
I'm afraid that's all the interesting news I can think of presently. It's time for second lunch. And I'm not even a hobbit.
Kevin, off today in honor of our 1st and 16th presidents (Whatever would we have done if their birthdays had been in, say, January and September???), is painting our new house with the help of some men from church. So far, progress reports indicate that the muted gray-blue we chose for the dining room is really more of a lilac. Oops.
The choice of bold colors (bold meaning anything not of palest pale hue) comes with added risk, I suppose. Hopefully the other colors are closer to what we think they are--especially the living room, since it opens into the dining room and the colors will be juxtaposed. I'll post pictures when I get them.
I'm afraid that's all the interesting news I can think of presently. It's time for second lunch. And I'm not even a hobbit.
2/15/2008
Sovereignty
The sovereignty of God is an immensely comforting thing when I am fearful or worried--but it can also be one of the hardest things to understand when things do not go well. I suppose this is very much related to a couple other recent posts, but it is just such a huge part of my thought these past few months--since I bowed my resistant will to the Biblical idea of predestination, I suppose.
At any rate, this post by Doug Wilson, a big name in Reformed circles, talks about the sovereignty of our Lord and His bringing of things to His good pleasure. It is not about predestination, but about the lordship of God over daily life. My favorite passage is this:
At any rate, this post by Doug Wilson, a big name in Reformed circles, talks about the sovereignty of our Lord and His bringing of things to His good pleasure. It is not about predestination, but about the lordship of God over daily life. My favorite passage is this:
Our God does as He pleases in the good things, in the pleasant things. This is an important mark of our piety -- we must always remember to thank God for our food, and drink, and marital love, and health -- the continued list of blessings is greater than we can even imagine. But our duties here are also obvious. For what we receive, we do give thanks.
But God also does as He pleases in the hard things. We live in a world where wicked things happen, and we profess to serve a good God who is omnipotent. Be a thinking Christian and stand up to the implications. The heart of our faith, the center of our faith, is the death of Jesus Christ, which was nothing less than a predestinated murder (Acts 2:22-24; 4:27-28). And yet it was the greatest act of love our world ever saw. How can a murder be an act of envy and hatred from one agent, and an act of love from the orchestrating, predestining Agent? While we are not able to do the math, we know that this is true because Scriptures tell us.
2/08/2008
World
I read from World on the Web a lot, especially from the WorldMag Blog section, as you've probably noticed if you follow any of the links I post. Today, there is a short piece about our prayers, and what they reveal about our attitude toward God.
Dreams
I've been dreaming lately--or rather, I've been remembering my dreams more lately.
One night, I dreamed I had a 9 pound baby 3 months early. I know it was 9 pounds, because I weighed myself right after birth. The scale said 168. Then I weighed myself holding the baby, and it said 177. I'm not sure why it was 3 months early (it was a natural labor and birth), but perhaps already weighing in at 9 pounds had something to do with it. Unfortunately, since it was so early, no one would believe that we hadn't conceived before our wedding. . .even though we'd been married for 3 years. There's no arguing with the logic of dreams.
Then, I had a nerd dream. This will mean nothing to most of you, but I'll try to explain it adequately. Take my word for it up front, it was a hilariously funny dream. It was a romance--between Rodney McKay from Stargate Atlantis and Deanna Troi from Star Trek, the Next Generation. If you are a Sci-Fi nerd, enough said. For all of you normal people, McKay is the archetypical genius scientist--arrogant, self-absorbed, and utterly oblivious to the feelings of those around him. Troi, on the other hand, is half Betazoid--a species that is able to sense the emotions of those nearby. Consequently, she is sensitive and understanding to the extreme that Rodney is not. If you can't imagine why THAT made for a hilarious dream. . .well, nevermind then.
One night, I dreamed I had a 9 pound baby 3 months early. I know it was 9 pounds, because I weighed myself right after birth. The scale said 168. Then I weighed myself holding the baby, and it said 177. I'm not sure why it was 3 months early (it was a natural labor and birth), but perhaps already weighing in at 9 pounds had something to do with it. Unfortunately, since it was so early, no one would believe that we hadn't conceived before our wedding. . .even though we'd been married for 3 years. There's no arguing with the logic of dreams.
Then, I had a nerd dream. This will mean nothing to most of you, but I'll try to explain it adequately. Take my word for it up front, it was a hilariously funny dream. It was a romance--between Rodney McKay from Stargate Atlantis and Deanna Troi from Star Trek, the Next Generation. If you are a Sci-Fi nerd, enough said. For all of you normal people, McKay is the archetypical genius scientist--arrogant, self-absorbed, and utterly oblivious to the feelings of those around him. Troi, on the other hand, is half Betazoid--a species that is able to sense the emotions of those nearby. Consequently, she is sensitive and understanding to the extreme that Rodney is not. If you can't imagine why THAT made for a hilarious dream. . .well, nevermind then.
2/05/2008
Explanation
Obviously, I'm spending a good bit of time on the computer these days--hence the sudden spike in posts. It's partially due to laziness (a condition not helped by the fact that I've lost at least a third of my brain mass through sneezing the past 3 days), and partially due to my affinity for the warmth of the laptop. It's not that cold, of course. I just like heat.
At any rate, that's why you suddenly have lots of my rambling thoughts to read. But now I'm actually going somewhere, so I'll have to leave the computer for a while.
At any rate, that's why you suddenly have lots of my rambling thoughts to read. But now I'm actually going somewhere, so I'll have to leave the computer for a while.
Ode to Food Habits from My Parents
Baked potatoes are my new favorite food. I'm getting close to having consumed a dozen in the space of 3 weeks. I eat them for lunch, mostly. It's not that I can't eat other foods--it's just that baked potatoes appeal to me. So I bake, and I eat.
Unfortunately, there are two downsides. The first is that potatoes take an hour to bake, so I have to think ahead--and sometimes even thinking ahead doesn't net me a soft potato by the time I'm famished. This, however, is not a major setback. Of greater importance is that the flesh of a potato is mostly starch--which is not high on the nutritional priority list for pregnant women. Fortunately, family food habits help to make up for this a bit.
From my father, I learned to eat baked potatoes piled high with. . .cottage cheese. I thought this was normal, until 2 or 3 people over the past week have given me strange responses. At any rate, it was normal in our house. Thus, my baked potato is filled with more calcium and less fat than it would otherwise be, were I to use grated cheddar and sour cream.
From my mother, I learned to like potato skins, bastions of antioxidants and other things of nutritional benefit. In fact, I usually eat them as a sort of second course, with a small second round of toppings, which helps again with the calcium and such.
Thus, my lunch is not solely starch, and I shall continue to bake and eat. Ode to the parents.
Unfortunately, there are two downsides. The first is that potatoes take an hour to bake, so I have to think ahead--and sometimes even thinking ahead doesn't net me a soft potato by the time I'm famished. This, however, is not a major setback. Of greater importance is that the flesh of a potato is mostly starch--which is not high on the nutritional priority list for pregnant women. Fortunately, family food habits help to make up for this a bit.
From my father, I learned to eat baked potatoes piled high with. . .cottage cheese. I thought this was normal, until 2 or 3 people over the past week have given me strange responses. At any rate, it was normal in our house. Thus, my baked potato is filled with more calcium and less fat than it would otherwise be, were I to use grated cheddar and sour cream.
From my mother, I learned to like potato skins, bastions of antioxidants and other things of nutritional benefit. In fact, I usually eat them as a sort of second course, with a small second round of toppings, which helps again with the calcium and such.
Thus, my lunch is not solely starch, and I shall continue to bake and eat. Ode to the parents.
A Personal Post, or Sometimes God Says "Yes"
As believers--and sometimes as non-believers, too--we all ask God for things. Those things vary in importance, actual and perceived. We breathe impromptu prayers for clear traffic or a good hair day; we send frequent repeated requests up for a good job or a healthy relative. Often those prayers are answered the way we like. Often they are not. When traffic snarls or a good hair day goes bad, we rarely give those "unanswered" prayers a second thought. When a family is unprovided for or a child dies, we wrestle with doubts, questions, fears, and God.
Time, in retrospect, passes quickly. When you are in the midst of it, however, not knowing how or when or if it will end, it is long. For some time now, we have prayed for children. The struggles of friends--with infertility, with the loss of a child, with other difficulties--kept me ever mindful that fruitfulness is not a right. It is not a guarantee. Children are a privilege and a gift. Although we do not understand the reasons, it seems that God graciously blesses some couples with children and--just as graciously, if we accept that God continually provides for our good--withholds them them from other couples. Sometimes the couples desperately desiring children seem far more deserving than those to whom God gives children. From where I sit, it isn't fair.
Recognizing that, I could not make the assumption that we would, of course, have children. Instead, I have prayed for grace to accept His will with grace. I have expended much time and effort preparing myself for the possibility that God would not choose to bless us with biological children. I contemplated a future filled with things other than children. We discussed adoption. Along the way, many babies have been born. The pregnancies of many friends I have greeted with sincere gladness, a few I have genuinely and angrily railed against. Reaching out to friends with babies helped me not grow hard, even while it sometimes brought pain. Hurting with friends who have had child-related sorrows reminded me constantly that children are a gift, not a guarantee. In my anxiety to readily "accept good from God" as well as "adversity," I almost convinced myself that we would not be able to have children of our own, and I struggled to turn in faith to Christ.
Last autumn, it finally seemed that peace had arrived to stay. Even with the prospect of denial, I knew God's grace was sufficient for whatever would come. In this one area, I accepted with contentment the reality that, sometimes, God says "No." I had a day or two of revisiting the battle, but for several months life was settled. God is good, His plan is good, and I can trust Him.
Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, "Yes." A positive pregnancy test left me reeling. . .really in a state of mild shock. For so long I had wrestled with having a godly response to God's "No," I was completely unprepared for the possibility of a "Yes!"
You think that getting what you want is the easy course, certainly. There's not the need to prepare to receive good from God in faith as there is to accept trouble with the same faith, or so we think. But in the face of many who are still hurting, desiring children, I find myself unable to carelessly move on.
Do not misunderstand. We are thrilled with this blessing. God has been good to us, and I am filled with gratitude. But I cannot shrug off the heaviness of many who are still waiting, or who have received "no," after "no," after "no." It is not guilt, but awareness of how undeserving I am of every blessing God gives. I cannot comprehend why God answers some prayers one way and some another, to utter disregard of what seems good to us. I do not believe it is a measure of our faith, our obedience, our godliness. While God is "no respecter of persons," He did not promise we should all have the same trials, or the same blessings. I see no recourse but to trust God's providence and omniscience, unless it is to devolve into bitterness and anger. If we were not currently expecting, I would still be undeserving of His many blessings. God would still be good.
That is easy for me to say, sitting in the realm of granted prayer. I know. But I said it 5 months ago, just as certainly, not knowing what answer this particular prayer would eventually receive or when that answer might come.
For some there will be irony in me sharing this now, and perhaps a shadow is cast on my credibility. We do not have all the answers, and I hope I would not presume to lecture someone else in the midst of a similar trial. But this is where we have been. I did not share before, because I did not want to answer the personal questions it might have engendered. It was still too close to home. This has been a difficult learning period for me. And, while I do not doubt I shall have to be reminded and even re-taught in the future, it has been a lesson worth learning.
The third verse of a hymn we sang in worship this past Sunday is fitting. The hymn is O Father, You Are Sovereign, by Margaret Clarkson.
Time, in retrospect, passes quickly. When you are in the midst of it, however, not knowing how or when or if it will end, it is long. For some time now, we have prayed for children. The struggles of friends--with infertility, with the loss of a child, with other difficulties--kept me ever mindful that fruitfulness is not a right. It is not a guarantee. Children are a privilege and a gift. Although we do not understand the reasons, it seems that God graciously blesses some couples with children and--just as graciously, if we accept that God continually provides for our good--withholds them them from other couples. Sometimes the couples desperately desiring children seem far more deserving than those to whom God gives children. From where I sit, it isn't fair.
Recognizing that, I could not make the assumption that we would, of course, have children. Instead, I have prayed for grace to accept His will with grace. I have expended much time and effort preparing myself for the possibility that God would not choose to bless us with biological children. I contemplated a future filled with things other than children. We discussed adoption. Along the way, many babies have been born. The pregnancies of many friends I have greeted with sincere gladness, a few I have genuinely and angrily railed against. Reaching out to friends with babies helped me not grow hard, even while it sometimes brought pain. Hurting with friends who have had child-related sorrows reminded me constantly that children are a gift, not a guarantee. In my anxiety to readily "accept good from God" as well as "adversity," I almost convinced myself that we would not be able to have children of our own, and I struggled to turn in faith to Christ.
Last autumn, it finally seemed that peace had arrived to stay. Even with the prospect of denial, I knew God's grace was sufficient for whatever would come. In this one area, I accepted with contentment the reality that, sometimes, God says "No." I had a day or two of revisiting the battle, but for several months life was settled. God is good, His plan is good, and I can trust Him.
Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, "Yes." A positive pregnancy test left me reeling. . .really in a state of mild shock. For so long I had wrestled with having a godly response to God's "No," I was completely unprepared for the possibility of a "Yes!"
You think that getting what you want is the easy course, certainly. There's not the need to prepare to receive good from God in faith as there is to accept trouble with the same faith, or so we think. But in the face of many who are still hurting, desiring children, I find myself unable to carelessly move on.
Do not misunderstand. We are thrilled with this blessing. God has been good to us, and I am filled with gratitude. But I cannot shrug off the heaviness of many who are still waiting, or who have received "no," after "no," after "no." It is not guilt, but awareness of how undeserving I am of every blessing God gives. I cannot comprehend why God answers some prayers one way and some another, to utter disregard of what seems good to us. I do not believe it is a measure of our faith, our obedience, our godliness. While God is "no respecter of persons," He did not promise we should all have the same trials, or the same blessings. I see no recourse but to trust God's providence and omniscience, unless it is to devolve into bitterness and anger. If we were not currently expecting, I would still be undeserving of His many blessings. God would still be good.
That is easy for me to say, sitting in the realm of granted prayer. I know. But I said it 5 months ago, just as certainly, not knowing what answer this particular prayer would eventually receive or when that answer might come.
For some there will be irony in me sharing this now, and perhaps a shadow is cast on my credibility. We do not have all the answers, and I hope I would not presume to lecture someone else in the midst of a similar trial. But this is where we have been. I did not share before, because I did not want to answer the personal questions it might have engendered. It was still too close to home. This has been a difficult learning period for me. And, while I do not doubt I shall have to be reminded and even re-taught in the future, it has been a lesson worth learning.
The third verse of a hymn we sang in worship this past Sunday is fitting. The hymn is O Father, You Are Sovereign, by Margaret Clarkson.
O Father, you are sovereign, the Lord of human pain,
transmuting earthly sorrows to gold of heav'nly gain.
All evil overruling, as none but Conqu'ror could,
your love pursues its purpose--our souls' eternal good.
2/04/2008
2/03/2008
Thomas Kinkade
If you're a big Kinkade fan, you probably don't want to read this. It is, however, a better-than-I-could-voice explanation of why we're not big fans. If you do read it, be sure to read the comments as well. They moderate the tone of the post a bit.
Yes, we are
expecting.
Here is the fabric for the nursery!
Don't ask why the frogs are sideways. The Mac is not cooperating.
Coordinating green:
Solids for a quilt:
The walls are going to be a pale orange color, and the carpet is as of yet of unknown hue. . .perhaps a pale yellow.
Here is the fabric for the nursery!
Don't ask why the frogs are sideways. The Mac is not cooperating.
Coordinating green:
Solids for a quilt:
The walls are going to be a pale orange color, and the carpet is as of yet of unknown hue. . .perhaps a pale yellow.
1/25/2008
"Chance"
A news article and its comments led me to do a little statistical research, out of curiosity. This is what I found.
A 43% CHANCE??? Is that like the chance I have of being involved in an automobile accident through no fault of my own? Or the chance I have of developing a chronic disease? Or maybe it's like the chance I have of being the victim of a crime.
Seriously.
Let me spell this out. Chance carries with it the connotation of inevitability. It is something that happens randomly, that cannot be controlled. Check the dictionary. Denotatively, absolutely, chance can mean probability, which carries a more neutral connotation of the relative frequency of a particular event. Unless you're reading a word problem from an eighth grade math book, however, chance is not typically used in that way. It's something accidental, unexpected, unpredictable. Hence, we have games of chance, coincidences that happen by chance, and, as chance would have it.
It may shock you, but I do not have a 43% chance of having an abortion before I turn 45. Because abortion is not something that happens randomly, unpredictably, inevitably. It is something people choose. I can see how those "ch" words could be confusing. But, in spite of the likelihood of pro-abortion advocates preferring to consider themselves as being "pro-chance," friendly neighborhood support staff to those women forced through an abortion by uncaring fate, the term is and should be "pro-choice."
And THAT is my soapbox for the day.
It may shock you to know that all U.S. women have a 43% chance of having an abortion before they turn 45.
(from Adoption Information)
A 43% CHANCE??? Is that like the chance I have of being involved in an automobile accident through no fault of my own? Or the chance I have of developing a chronic disease? Or maybe it's like the chance I have of being the victim of a crime.
Seriously.
Let me spell this out. Chance carries with it the connotation of inevitability. It is something that happens randomly, that cannot be controlled. Check the dictionary. Denotatively, absolutely, chance can mean probability, which carries a more neutral connotation of the relative frequency of a particular event. Unless you're reading a word problem from an eighth grade math book, however, chance is not typically used in that way. It's something accidental, unexpected, unpredictable. Hence, we have games of chance, coincidences that happen by chance, and, as chance would have it.
It may shock you, but I do not have a 43% chance of having an abortion before I turn 45. Because abortion is not something that happens randomly, unpredictably, inevitably. It is something people choose. I can see how those "ch" words could be confusing. But, in spite of the likelihood of pro-abortion advocates preferring to consider themselves as being "pro-chance," friendly neighborhood support staff to those women forced through an abortion by uncaring fate, the term is and should be "pro-choice."
And THAT is my soapbox for the day.
1/22/2008
Our Old House
Finally, some pictures from the last 2 weeks of work at our house! Work is progressing steadily, and we're excited to see walls up again.
The artifacts found in our walls the first week, an 1898 book on the American colonies and a 1912 book of nursery rhymes among other miscellaneous things:
Kevin, drilling a path for new electrical wire:
Wires run up to the attic for future remodeling:
Drywall completed in the dining room and living room, ready to be taped and mudded:
Our new closet in the front bedroom:
The artifacts found in our walls the first week, an 1898 book on the American colonies and a 1912 book of nursery rhymes among other miscellaneous things:
Kevin, drilling a path for new electrical wire:
Wires run up to the attic for future remodeling:
Drywall completed in the dining room and living room, ready to be taped and mudded:
Our new closet in the front bedroom:
Pachelbel, Again
If you don't already know, I have very strong feelings regarding appropriate renditions and uses of Pachelbel's Canon in D. Pachelbel does not deserve to have his masterpiece abused as it often is.
I cannot decide, however, what exactly to say about this.
I cannot decide, however, what exactly to say about this.
1/16/2008
Bit of News
We've been busy on the weekends remodeling--and then recuperating in time for Monday. I have some pictures on the camera. Maybe I'll even post them.
I've started subbing a day or two a week in the county school system. So far, it's been typical. I'm trying to concentrate my efforts in one middle school of extraordinarily convenient location, hoping to become at least a recognized presence. So far, the teachers and administrators have been extremely supportive and helpful, which is always a good sign for a sub attempting to maintain some level of control and respect. When the regular faculty and staff obviously have your back, the students are much more likely to cooperate.
Being back in the school system reminds me both of what I love about teaching--namely, the teaching of material to and the varied interaction with growing people--and also why I was eager to leave. I'm enjoying the little change of pace, but I am twice as thankful for my days at home. We'll keep this up until the end of the school year, perhaps, and add some funds to our remodeling cache. I do look forward to being a full-time SAHW again. The weekly bread-making is already suffering some from my 2-day a week absence.
I've started subbing a day or two a week in the county school system. So far, it's been typical. I'm trying to concentrate my efforts in one middle school of extraordinarily convenient location, hoping to become at least a recognized presence. So far, the teachers and administrators have been extremely supportive and helpful, which is always a good sign for a sub attempting to maintain some level of control and respect. When the regular faculty and staff obviously have your back, the students are much more likely to cooperate.
Being back in the school system reminds me both of what I love about teaching--namely, the teaching of material to and the varied interaction with growing people--and also why I was eager to leave. I'm enjoying the little change of pace, but I am twice as thankful for my days at home. We'll keep this up until the end of the school year, perhaps, and add some funds to our remodeling cache. I do look forward to being a full-time SAHW again. The weekly bread-making is already suffering some from my 2-day a week absence.
1/11/2008
The Homemaker Tunnel
I am so far from any practical realization of this that it's ridiculous to say I want it, but somewhere, this is the light I wish I could occasionally glimpse at the end of the "becoming a perfect homemaker" tunnel.
1/08/2008
Demolition
Last Saturday, our church turned out to tear down walls in our new house. I wasn't there, but Kevin said almost 20 people came! They got all the sheetrock off and started insulating and re-wiring. Apparently, all the wiring in the walls was still the original knob and tube, so we're glad it's going away. (For all you post-1920-people, that's live, bare wire wrapped around ceramic knobs at connection points and put through ceramic tubes in the studs. Not the safest idea, even if it did work well for many years.) The drywall (All but one room turned out NOT to be lathe and plaster.) was patented in 1912. They found an 1898 American history textbook and a 1912 children's storybook in the walls, as well as a pile of old razorblades. There are some pictures of the date on the drywall and the destruction in general below.
This Saturday, they're coming back to finish the rebuilding. Then we'll have walls again, this time with insulation and up-to-code electrical wiring.
Last week, I and another lady sent crock pots with lunch for the men. This morning, a different woman in the church e-mailed and asked if she could help provide lunch for this Saturday. We expected to provide food for everyone ourselves; it's a small thing in comparison to what is being done. But people continue to share, and I will be the first to admit that preparing food for 20 working appetites is a job for any one person.
I am, quite simply, speechlessly overwhelmed at the generosity and kindness of these people. To give up 2 Saturdays with their families to remodel a home for people they as yet barely know is--well, it's what the Church should be, but often isn't. I could not have imagined a better Body of Christ.
There is so much more that should be said, but words don't convey enough. I am thankful for the abundant blessings we've found here.
This Saturday, they're coming back to finish the rebuilding. Then we'll have walls again, this time with insulation and up-to-code electrical wiring.
Last week, I and another lady sent crock pots with lunch for the men. This morning, a different woman in the church e-mailed and asked if she could help provide lunch for this Saturday. We expected to provide food for everyone ourselves; it's a small thing in comparison to what is being done. But people continue to share, and I will be the first to admit that preparing food for 20 working appetites is a job for any one person.
I am, quite simply, speechlessly overwhelmed at the generosity and kindness of these people. To give up 2 Saturdays with their families to remodel a home for people they as yet barely know is--well, it's what the Church should be, but often isn't. I could not have imagined a better Body of Christ.
There is so much more that should be said, but words don't convey enough. I am thankful for the abundant blessings we've found here.
1/05/2008
MORNING
Good Morning. It's not yet 8 o'clock on this chilly Saturday in Maryland. Yet, so far, I've:
baked 18 muffins
eaten 1 of those muffins
scrambled eggs, twice
eaten scrambled eggs, once
cut 9 carrots and a whole package of celery into sticks
cut 12 small oranges into wedges
made 1 gallon of lemonade
gone to the grocery store
packaged said items (minus the scrambled eggs, but plus a whole lot of stuff I don't feel like listing) into the car
seen 4 people off to their day's activities.
And this is in addition to being up until midnight last night baking cookies and shredding barbecued beef for demolition-day lunch.
Nobody told me being a homeowner was like spontaneously becoming the mother of 8.
baked 18 muffins
eaten 1 of those muffins
scrambled eggs, twice
eaten scrambled eggs, once
cut 9 carrots and a whole package of celery into sticks
cut 12 small oranges into wedges
made 1 gallon of lemonade
gone to the grocery store
packaged said items (minus the scrambled eggs, but plus a whole lot of stuff I don't feel like listing) into the car
seen 4 people off to their day's activities.
And this is in addition to being up until midnight last night baking cookies and shredding barbecued beef for demolition-day lunch.
Nobody told me being a homeowner was like spontaneously becoming the mother of 8.
1/02/2008
Overdue Pictures
We're back home after our holiday travels and have busy remodeling plans for the next 2 or 3 weeks. Here are a few random house pictures we took earlier in December that I never managed to post.
The first meal in our new home
Ambience: the glowing, crackling, electric fire
Can of Fire Extinguisher found in the kitchen
Peeking at the wood floors
Kenmore sewing machine that hopefully still works
Kevin, removing trim in preparation for demolition day
The first meal in our new home
Ambience: the glowing, crackling, electric fire
Can of Fire Extinguisher found in the kitchen
Peeking at the wood floors
Kenmore sewing machine that hopefully still works
Kevin, removing trim in preparation for demolition day
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