You know, I always admire bloggers who really do "pieces" when they post. I guess this is just more of a patchwork quilt. So you'll have to forgive me, but we've had a lot of lovely small things happening of late. Btw, the new photo is by Ty. We had a great time last week out at Ashland, the Henry Clay estate taking pictures.
Newsy bits:
1. Visit from John. This happened just a few minutes ago. John came by and we had tea. He's so hard to understand with his tics but he teaches me patience in just sitting there while he gets out his words. That was such a lesson to me. I think it's a good mode of communication because it's easy to get impatient with people and stop listening and then fill in the blanks. Maybe we just need to give them more time. I write people off too easily because I don't stick around long enough to hear the full story. John told me he prays for me and my family. Humbling and so appreciated.
2. The Hope Center. I helped serve breakfast there yesterday morning. I think, after the heartbreak I felt after the cook at the CAC went back on cocaine, I'm finally ready to get back into this kind of volunteering. Anyway, the guys were nice, and only one complained about the really sorry-assed breakfast we had to dish out. Rice, toast and day or two old bagels. Starch anyone? I'm glad I went and am scheduled now for Monday mornings. I hear such disparaging talk about the poor sometimes, that it just breaks my heart. I wish those folks could meet some of the inhabitants of the Hope Center.
3. A visit from Elysa and Jim. First of all, it was great to really see Elysa in freedom and able to just be Elysa. We had SUCH a great time! I love this lady! We went to Africa together (she found me via blogdom) and she is probably my greatest literary advocate. I have no idea how many readers she's brought my way. We ate together, did a driving tour of Lexington, and we had a wonderful lunch with her and her husband Jim. Gosh, we covered so much distance in the conversation, from what does "emergent/emerging" really entail to intentional community to inner city ministry to homeschooling. Great conversation with great people!
4. Ty is loving her new job in Clay City! She's getting a real education in seat-of-the-pants ministry to the poor. Her boss and the people she works with are just the salt of the earth, folk who serve because it is truly part of their fabric. I'm so glad God brought us and others into seeing how justice is a great part of His plan, but these wonderful folk just know that instinctually and obey. I'm glad Ty is experiencing their humble way of following the Lord and learning from it.
5. It's getting chillier again here in Lexington. Time for the heat to go back and grrrrr. I swear! Anyway, this past Saturday we stuffed some more insulation up the chimneys and I sprayed that foam stuff which is always fun (I mean it!) and put weather stripping or whatever that stuff is called around some of the drafty places. I'm going to do some of the more "breezy" windows with that plastic sheeting/blowdryer jazz. We'll see.
6. God has just been so good to us. Will is going to be able to take his mid-term and final exams for his PhD in March and then get started on his dissertation. This cuts off a good six months for him. It'll be kind fun married to Dr. Samson. Ha! Alas, he'll probably still get eyerolls from the kids no matter what letters are behind his name! I'm proud of him (and of me! ha!) and thrilled he loves this academic life so much.
7. Finally, we're only about 2,000.00 away from raising all the money for Sam's School in Swaziland! Woo-hoo! Thanks for all who have participated. This experience has just been so great for our family to participate in too. What great folks we have in our lives! You rock!
8. Okay, I've got to stop with an even number. Thank you for your prayers. Please keep us before the Father's throne. As the economy continues to weaken, I'm going to have to figure out something more to do than just writing. So if you could pray some speaking engagements my way, I'd appreciate it. The new budget is working out great, btw, and I'm so thankful God's giving us this chance to be better stewards. I'm humbled by his grace in that I realize how stupid we were previously. Praise Him for new beginnings!
Love to you all, and the grace and peace of Christ be yours,
I thought I'd give you a snippet of what I'm working on these days. Right now I'm desperately seeking to get through the first draft of my first non-fiction book (and quite possibly my last. Good grief is non-fiction harder for me to write than fiction!) so I'm not first-drafting two books at once.
This book, which will be published by Zondervan, not only talks about our trip to Swaziland, which has the dubious honor of having the worlds highest HIV/AIDS rate, but also the journey from a woman who wanted to care about justice, to a woman who does. It's been a good process. Here's a bit to, hopefully, whet your appetite:
Well, I
couldn’t move Denise down with me, so God sent me another prophet, Jarrod. He
used to be a Methodist Minister and is now a chaplain for people in hospice.
This is a very good thing because Jarrod is one of the funniest people I know,
can tell a story far better than I can, and he truly could cheer up those who
are dying.
So, I admit
it, despite all of Denise’s words to me, I still kept God the Father at arm’s
length. I understood He wanted me to love Him, but how to really do that remained
a mystery. Enter Jarrod who, during a time of prayer, zeroed in on my father
issues. Thanks for that, man. But even an atheist might be tempted to believe
something supernatural and unexplainable by nature was afoot.
This past
February, just before Lent began, Jarrod stopped by and we prayed together. He
asked me, “Do you want to get to know God the Father?”
I had to
think for a minute. I wanted to answer honestly, not the answer I was supposed
to say if I was a good Christian lady. “I want to want to.”
He nodded. “That’s
good. That sounds honest.”
“He says
there’s nothing to be afraid of. He’s not going to hurt you.”
I wanted to
believe that. I really did.
We prayed
together. I began to read Brennan Manning at Jarrod’s suggestion, and at night
I’d tell the Father over and over, “Abba, I belong to you. Abba, I belong to
you.”
Something
happened. It was gentle and almost untraceable. But I found my heart began to
soften. Just a little. Loving the Father didn’t seem like something so darned
impossible, in fact maybe it was all really true, maybe that verse that says “How
great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called sons
and daughters of God.” So this is what the writer meant? God really can be my
father? Why should he care so much? Why, when he has such bigger things to
worry about, does he want me plugged into his life so badly? I still can’t comprehend
that desire on God’s part to commune with me, and you, but I know it’s true.
That has to be enough. And it is.
Jarrod
called me just as Lent began. “Just sit back and watch. The Father is going to who
you how much he loves you. Jesus says don’t worry about him, He’s glad to step
out of the way. He’ll be fine.”
I’ve always
been a little in love with Jesus. I wouldn’t have wanted to have hurt his heart
by focusing on the Father. I know this is contrary to everything he said in
scripture about his love for the father, how if we’ve seen him we’ve seen the
father, how he glorifies in the father. I’m just a one-man woman I guess. Not
an easy place to be when trying to know and love a Triune God!
So, I
continued to pray, continue to inch closer to the Father in Heaven who knew how
much I needed to love Him, who knew my heart was dying inside, withering
without the nourishing light of the sustainer of the universe.
Was I a
Christian? Was I “saved?” Yes, I believe that. I believe my love for Jesus
because of His great Love for me covered the basics. That Christ bridged the
chasm of eternity. But until I realized God the Father truly loved me, my
spiritual life was incomplete, undernourished, unable to learn to trust. I didn’t
really trust God. There it is. I said it.
That Lenten
season was amazing. My book, Quaker Summer, was given two prestigious awards I
never thought I’d ever have, Will was hired as a professor at a wonderful
college nearby, to name a few things. Book sales were so much greater than they’d
ever been. I was amazed. And so thankful. What Jarrod told me was coming to
pass. Amazing.
Finally,
just shy of Easter, the Father put the cherry on top of the entire confection
of affection he’d given me. The women of my intentional community were enjoying
a weekend retreat at the Sisters of Loreto’s motherhouse near Bardstown, KY.
The spiritual writer, Thomas Merton, was a monk at the nearby monastery of
Gethsemani. A peaceful air surrounded the compound as we drove onto the grounds,
then unpacked and settled into the retreat house.
We enjoyed
a concert at the chapel, talked with an eccentric religious sister who was the
artist in residence for the order, whose massive sculpture boggled the mind
when compared to her stature. And of course, we ate together and talked with
each other, just enjoying the time together.
Now let me
confess something about myself. I fight against materialism. When I first
married Will I was upset because we didn’t have a house that first year. (Was I
clueless or what?) I pictured myself moving up in the world, belonging to a
country club someday, wearing gorgeous clothing, having the perfect dishware,
good furniture like Thomasville or Henredon. And shoes? Oh I’d have a closet
full someday! People were so upset at Imelda Marcos’s shoe collection, but I
totally understood!
As we’ve
journeyed down the road of life, I’ve had to put some of those dreams aside.
There were times I gave into that mind-set, taking way too many trips to T.J.
Maxx, buying things because I liked them, not because I needed them or because
they were wall that useful. I already told you about our big house and nice
cars too.
And yet.
Despite
what seems like a materialist life at this point in time, there was one item I
never allowed myself to buy. Every time a catalogue from The Company Store
arrived I leisurely flipped through the pages, enjoying all the colors and
textures, because, let’s face it, bedding is just utterly fabulous. Every time
I’d get a little yearny because I knew “the page” was coming, “the page” I’d
been looking at since I was a young married, “the page” that held the one thing
I’d always wanted but had never indulged myself and purchased.
The luscious
down comforter.
Yes. One
day I bought a synthetic down-style comforter, but oh, it just couldn’t compare
to the buttery, puffy yuminess of a real down comforter. I’d spent loads of
money on stupid stuff over the years, but never dove into the world of down. To
this day, I wonder why I didn’t. I was able to justify just about everything
else I bought but didn’t need.
Back to
Loreto.
One
evening, we were sitting around the kitchen table with cups of tea and Heidi’s
amazing chocolate chip cookies sitting in a Tupperware tub in the middle. I’m
not sure how the topic came up; I was probably complaining about the cold in my
house. We keep it at 60 degrees in the winter, telling about that winter’s
system of throwing a quilt in the dryer for five minutes, then snatching it out
and running through the house with a “Nobody get it my way!” Then, bundling in
the warmth beneath my bedspread. Now that is the way to warm up your bed! No
need for electric blankets. Your body heat takes over right away.
The women
laughed at my antics. My loathing of winter and the chilly house is well-known
to them as I do nothing but complain every season. Sherry suddenly said, “Do
you not have down comforter? Those heat up right away.”
“No,” I
said. “I’ve always wanted one. I hear they’re great.” I wasn’t going to tell
her about all those wistful glances at the glossy catalogue pages over the
years.
“My mother
bought us an extra one. You’re more than willing to have it if you’d like.”
Of course,
I wasn’t about to turn that down.
Only God
knew of that desire. Only he knew the one thing he could give me that would
say, “It’s all true. I love you. I know you. Everything about you. I want you
to have the one desire of your heart you never allowed yourself.”
And so, at
forty-three years of age, I finally, truly, gave my heart to God my father. I
realized he loved me. I could trust him. I could love him and it would be okay.
No matter what storm came my way, what pain and disappointment lie ahead, he
would be surrounding me like that comforter.
What does
all this have to do with justice? Well, it tells me I can’t misrepresent the
love of God to anyone. It should tell us how to run our charities, our
churches, and above all it shows us how
to love. And what if love isn’t at the heart of justice? St. Paul wasn’t just
blowing smoke when he said, “And though I give all my goods to feed the poor
and have not love, it profits me nothing.”
Giving
without loving is the surefire recipe for burnout. Know you’re loved by God the
Father, draw close to him. You can trust him.
I love autumn. By far, October is my favorite month of the year. So I decided to give the blog a little fall make up. Hope you're enjoying the cooler weather and the changing leaves as much as I am. Hope you are being renewed in your journey of faith toward Christlikeness.
Yesterday, Jake and Gwynnie wanted to take their eight bucks to the grocery store to get their cereal and snacks. They're really excited about this whole arrangement, so we hopped in our old truck (the guy who owned it before us named it Soren) a 1989 Mazda (goes hmmmmmmmm), white, with a big old star on the hood and blue tape on part of the windshield to keep it from leaking. I think. The seatback won't stay in the upright position I need to work the clutch, so I have to put my purse behind my back. I dunno. I kinda like the whole arrangement it's so goofy. And there the reverse snobbery aspect (the 'at least it's paid for' thing) as well as the hope that maybe this somehow makes up for our Volvo wagon (at least it's paid for).
The kids went right to the Kroger (or K-Rog [raj] as we call the store) bag cereal. A honking big bag for 2.99. (I couldn't get them to eat bag cereal if their life depended on it before!) And Honey BBQ Frito Twists on sale for $2.20. They went through the check out on their own. This is a great way for them to learn about value. I noticed this morning they took Will up on his offer of Bisquick pancakes. Guess they're saving the cereal for snacks too.
Yesterday was day one of fall break for Will so he was home working on the chicken coop. Pray he gets done soon; one of "the ladies" was perched on the edge of their plastic tub in the laundry room this morning when I went in to get clean clothes. They're not looking so much like chicks these days as Junior Chickens. I like the gals. We think Mikey might be a boy.
I was making potato soup (recipe at the end) when I got a call from my neighbor. "Did Will tell you I'm bringing over supper tonight? Probably didn't 'cause he usually forgets."
"Of course he didn't. He forgot. But that's great!"
Soup tomorrow.
Couple my neighbor with a pressure cooker and it's just plain delicious. I don't know how she does it. I've never used a pressure cooker. In fact, I just picture myself with 8th degree scalding burns merely from picking it up and setting it on the burner.
She rents out the upstairs apartment to the nicest young man. We all love him. He came over with a pot of brisket, carrots, potatoes and onion. Then went back for the cornbread. My neighbor entered a bit later with two Sara Lee pies. Banana Creme and Turtle. We supplied the wine.
This isn't the first time she's done this for us. I'm allergic to dogs so instead of inviting us over, she brings the food to us. I really do love my neighbor. She's as quirky as I am. She loves going to see Gwynnie's plays too. And I love that about her.
Earlier in the afternoon, our next door neighbor came over and gave Will encouragement on the coop. The cement floor is far from smooth and he said, "It's for chickens. It doesn't need to be any better than that."
True dat.
I said to Will, "What a great day for being with the neighbors. I love our neighborhood."
I really hope we don't have to ever move. That's a big first for me. And as I said to Will earlier standing by the coop, "Pity the person who ever has to demolish this cement floor." We sure wouldn't want to be the ones to do that to anyone.
Lisa's Gotcha Potato Soup (as in whatever's around the house, I gotcha)
swirl of olive oil 4 slices thick cut bacon (I had pepper bacon on hand) 1 medium onion, diced 1 tbs. crushed garlic (we cheat. we get crushed from the store) 3 - 5 pounds potatoes (whatever kind you have in your pantry) 8 cups of water 4 cups chicken stock (box kind is just better)
for toppings: shredded cheese, sour cream, chives or green onion
Chop bacon into small bits, brown in olive oil until crisp. Remove bacon and set aside. Carmelize onion and garlic until dark golden. Meanwhile peel potatoes, dice into 3/4" or so cubes and cook in the water and broth. In a food-process or with hand blender, whirl up the onions and garlic. When potatoes are cooked, blend the onion mixture and the potatoes and broth to a creamy consistency. Season to taste. (This will not be an overly thick soup.) Top with a good amount of shredded cheese, a dollop of sour cream, the bacon bits you just fried, and some chives. I'll be serving mine with a baguette from the wine market a couple of blocks away.
"Actually, I'm kind of excited about this," Gwynnie said, in that whimsy-filled voice she gets sometimes. Gwynnie is the natural optimist of the family.
Yesterday afternoon, after I sat down with pencil and paper and figured out a budget, from monthly bills to weekly expenditures, Will and I called the fam together for a big sit-down. We don't do this often. I know a lot of families have "weekly meetings" and such to go over what went wrong during the week, what went right. That would, honestly, presuppose a mother who could actually remember such things or take the time to jot them down. We take life pretty much by the seat of our pants, pray for God's grace and mercy, and hope for the best! So far, it's worked and we have so much to be thankful for.
For several years, Will was exclusively working on his PhD and a position as a research assistant paid his school bills and added a bit to the family pot. However, my earnings as a writer were the bulk of the income and as any writer can tell you, it's feast or famine. We used a home equity line to get us through the famine times. Well, that can eek up on you. But recently, a windfall will enable us to pay that off, re-invest in our home (not the stock market--ack!) and become debt free with the exception of our mortgage. Now, Will is teaching full time (and still pursuing his PhD) and mine will still be feast or famine. But we feel we owe to ourselves, our kids, and even our economy to become ultra-responsible with the financial blessings God has given us. (Let's face it, you can lay blame at whoever's feet you want, but at the end of the day the majority of Americans spend more than they earn, want more than they are capable of paying for, and it falls in our lap. BTW, I'm not talking about those with marginal incomes. People need to eat and have a roof over their heads.)
So here are the basic elements:
1. Cash only: we take out a determined amount each week, divvy it up, and that's all we get for food, gas, lunches, etc.
2. No more paying the kids for work around the house: Chores are everybody's responsibility just because you live here. This means they have to find ways to make money to finance going to the movies with friends, ice skating, buying extra clothes they want but don't need.
Gwynnie's already planning on pulling weeds and making up a flier. As well as resurrecting her jewelry making business. Jake can mow lawns.
3. Creative license: Each kid gets 8.00 a week to buy cereal/breakfast stuff, and snacks. Now, they can forego the cereal and have bisquick pancakes or toast, and use the money for whatever they want, but that's all there is. If they get a bag of chips, they have to make it last the whole week, or, if they eat it in one day, that's all they get. (They can also save this to finance their outings if they want.)
4. No fast food runs. If, at the end of the month we have some left over from the grocery money, we'll have a meal out together.
5. Limit our shower time and TV time to save energy. One hour a day on the TV. So after school, it'll be easier to get homework done, do chores etc.
6. And finally, spend more time together doing free things. I told the kids, because they're going to have to sacrifice and buckle down, we'll spend an hour together every night after dinner from 6:30 - 7:30, playing games, drawing, whatever. (That's when Gwynnie started to get excited, bless her heart.)
So we have a folder with envelopes in it for everybody and one for the house. I'll keep you posted. I'm actually excited about this because:
1. I feel guilty when I spend too much or have no idea where the budget is. To be free of that will be wonderful. 2. I may do some extra things myself for spending money, portraits, jewelry, who knows? 3. The fam will have more, good time together.
4. It's a great challenge in the face of what's happening today. As Christians, we need to lead the way in living into our situations in a way that helps us love God and neighbor, rather than blameshifting and doing much yakking at a time when we can look inward and question our own habits. God will help us. Living life in him and by the power and guidance of the Holy Spirit is always the place to start. It's never bad to look deep within and find out who/what it is we're really trusting in. May we all grow closer to Christ throughout the coming months and years.
That's it. Now, how to get the grocery bill down. Any suggestions?
You just never know what God will whisper in your ear. As I'm sitting here listening to "In My Time of Dying" by my new fave band, Led Zep, the title seems apropos. Ty and I went to Africa last winter and I came home not knowing what to do to help. Other than write a book. i know, books seem like big things, unless you're an author and it's a bit like peeling an onion for the kingdom, especially if it makes people cry. We all want to have left something bigger than us behind "in our time of dying". I realize our children can fit this bill, but hopefully we have a wider vision than the four walls of our home. (Unless you have special needs children. God bless you.)
I wanted to help Pastor Sam and the kids in a nearby village more than anything when I came home. I fell in love with the child to the right. Nothando. Came up with some hairbrained ideas, but nothing stuck. Okay, I sighed when God whispered about helping Sam build a school, I guess I'll have to organize a fundraiser.
So I was across the street sitting on the Billy Ray's porch having a beer. Billy Ray is a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America and has been planning events for decades. I asked him how to go about a fundraiser.
"Well, the first thing I would do is send a letter out to everybody you know and see how much you can get that way."
IOW, "I'm a profession at this, neighbor. It's like asking a doctor why you have that pain in your groin."
Hmm. Okay.
Well, why not? I thought. So I sent out an email pleading for cash. Here's the letter at this link. So many folks were so gracious. Believe me, it was one of the scariest things I've ever done. The outcome from the email is that almost 11,000.00 has been raised, a large part of that from Relational Tithe for the well. Only 4K more to go to furnish the school!
Really, really exciting. Hopefully a little something, by God's grace, those of us who've participated in the project, can remember in our time of dying as one of the good things God allowed us to do in His name.
We've been doing some home-grown living here at Third Street House, trying to bring down our living standards to something more reasonable. And with the latest Wall Street stuff, something I totally do not understand btw, I'm glad to know that we'll at least have eggs if the economy goes to hell in a handbasket!
Enter "the ladies of Third Street." Will brought them home last week and they're getting bigger each day in the laundry room. I'm not sure how to find the pictures of them when they were just balls o' fuzz. But . . .
This was taken almost a week later. Today. Nice wings ladies! And we're getting a little tailfeather action as well. They're called Red Comets and will give us brown eggs.
We've named them all after our patron saints, Jude, Francis, Luke, Michael, and Cecilia (or Judey, Franky, Lukey, Mikey and CeeCee, since they're girls). The 6th one is name Parma-Jean. Chicken Parma-Jean. That's sad isn't it? But fun to say.
I don't know about you, but I look at the world around me and feel a little anxious with all that is happening. As one of those black-and-white people that refuses to compromise, I've been pushed out of the electoral process (I'm voting for my sister!), and I wonder what the future will hold. And then I look at baby chickens and my own kids and am thankful God loves me and the whole world. Even the birds.
Well, I'm back up and running for those who still have me on their bloglines or something!
It's been a while. Many lessons learned over the past couple of years and I guess I'm more or less ready to talk about my life here once again, now that I'm more adjusted to a new place and a new type of existence. In short, I love Lexington. (Didn't for a while, wanted to go home.) And now it is home.
I have to laugh. Sometimes justice living takes on the funniest forms. You always picture this life sort of like a Mother Teresa existence. But for a family of five, it's actually just more regular living with some pretty crazy people at times! It doesn't feel heroic or abnormal. You just say, Hey, I have a house, and people are welcomed here. Putting yourself in a downtown neighborhood is what can make it unusual.
Jackie lives around the corner. She deals with a lot of medical issues, and is a little bit mentally challenged. She loves the Flintstones. This morning at 8:15, I found myself surfing the internet, looking for Flintstone coloring pages while she chatted with Will in the kitchen.
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