I never have enough time to read. I didn't when I was a teenager and would spend an entire Saturday lying on my bed with a book in hand (we're talking at least 12 hours if not more - how did I do that?). Nor in my 20s when I held sporadic part time jobs and finish my college education. And now it my 30s with a full time job, tennis, errands, chores, building a dollhouse, balancing my checkbook - and other mundane, adult things - I certainly don't have much time to read. But I do steal moments here and there when sweeping my floor can be held off just one more day...
So a couple of weeks ago I found a new favorite. The kind of book you put off sweeping your floor for two more days...and stay up late even though you have to get up early. The kind of book that reminds you of all your other favorite books you need to read again - isn't that why I chose to move them to Texas instead of being put in a box in an attic in Indiana? The kind of book you just have to tell people about. And since you're on the subject, you may as well share a few other favorites.
The book was Tuesdays at the Castle by Jessica Day George. It's about a princess (no, I haven't outgrown princesses - just the costume). She lives in a castle that's alive. I mean, it grows. Or shrinks. Or moves around it's rooms. When her parents and oldest brother are attacked by bandits and the council tries to control her brother who is to become the king, Princess Celie and her beloved castle must save the day.
The Runaway Princess by Kate Coombs is one my favorite princess stories ever. Princess Meg doesn't want to be a normal princess, married off to the prince who wins her father's contest. Instead, she'll win the contest herself...even if that does mean escaping the tower her father's locks her in. Which may be the easy part - witches, dragons, stuck up princes and bandits can be a bit challenging...even with the help of friends and a wizard.
Of course, not everything I read is about princesses. Patricia Beatty never wrote a princess book, but she wrote lots of others I could read a dozen times each. There's O, the Red Rose Tree where three young friends decide to help an elderly neighbor make a final quilt. The only hitch: it must have 7 red fabrics that don't bleed. Shipwrecks and actresses' petticoats are a good place to start. Or Melinda Takes a Hand when young Melinda decides her sister's heartbreak over a missing fiance can be solved by rejected British lords who build castles on the plains of Colorado. And if she's not busy with that, she's got a Great Dane to chase after.
If you want funny, try Boston Jane by Jennifer Holm. Jane wasn't much of a lady when she went to finishing school in Philadelphia, even though she tried very hard. She'll try all the harder to maintain her ladylike ways in the wilds of Oregon Territory while she waits for her fiance to show up. Only when he does,well...there are two sequels to read that story in.
I suppose I'll end there - for now. But there are so many more! Wise King Solomon stated correctly in Ecclesiastes, "...of making many books there is no end..." If only I had more time to read them all!
Monday, January 30, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Singing
The other night I was reading Psalm 137, and it struck me that this psalm isn't joyful. It doesn't start joyful as the people are in captivity and they don't feel like singing. Nor does it end joyfully as they contemplate the destruction of those holding them in captivity. And yet it's a psalm.
We know that a psalm is sung. Some of us actually sing them in our churches. Others of us sing hymns, which is a psalm's close relation. Whether a psalm or a hymn, most of them praise God and talk of His wondrous ways, and what He has accomplished on our behalf. We are taught that the songs we sing in church are meant to praise and glorify God: the One we are singing to. And, somehow, we grow up with the impression that in order to do that rightly we sing with joy and happiness. Right?
In fact, giving a passing thought to music in general, the first thought is happy. But what about funeral dirges? Or the fact that some of the greatest composers ever were often in depressive moods? David wrote a psalm after falling into one great sin that led to several more or when he was surrounded by his enemies. William Cowper wrote "God Works in Mysterious Ways" after almost committing suicide. Joseph Scriven wrote "What a Friend we have in Jesus" after the death of not one, but two fiancees in a short period of time.
Last night in my class with the kids at church we read a devotional on another aspect of song. When King Jehoshaphat in the Bible faced an army much mightier than his own, he asked God in despair what he was to do. "Sing," God answered. "Send out your choir before your army and sing." The songs of praise the choir sang as the army march to battle caused such chaos in the enemy camp, the enemy killed one other. Victory for a song.
And isn't it true? Of course, we sing when we're happy. But it's also true that we sing when we're sad. Why? To make us happy. And, it's just as true that I sing when I need God's help. How many hymns come to mind when I'm facing a challenge I don't know how to solve...and what a comfort they are.
So sing! And then watch yourself smile.
We know that a psalm is sung. Some of us actually sing them in our churches. Others of us sing hymns, which is a psalm's close relation. Whether a psalm or a hymn, most of them praise God and talk of His wondrous ways, and what He has accomplished on our behalf. We are taught that the songs we sing in church are meant to praise and glorify God: the One we are singing to. And, somehow, we grow up with the impression that in order to do that rightly we sing with joy and happiness. Right?
In fact, giving a passing thought to music in general, the first thought is happy. But what about funeral dirges? Or the fact that some of the greatest composers ever were often in depressive moods? David wrote a psalm after falling into one great sin that led to several more or when he was surrounded by his enemies. William Cowper wrote "God Works in Mysterious Ways" after almost committing suicide. Joseph Scriven wrote "What a Friend we have in Jesus" after the death of not one, but two fiancees in a short period of time.
Last night in my class with the kids at church we read a devotional on another aspect of song. When King Jehoshaphat in the Bible faced an army much mightier than his own, he asked God in despair what he was to do. "Sing," God answered. "Send out your choir before your army and sing." The songs of praise the choir sang as the army march to battle caused such chaos in the enemy camp, the enemy killed one other. Victory for a song.
And isn't it true? Of course, we sing when we're happy. But it's also true that we sing when we're sad. Why? To make us happy. And, it's just as true that I sing when I need God's help. How many hymns come to mind when I'm facing a challenge I don't know how to solve...and what a comfort they are.
So sing! And then watch yourself smile.
Monday, January 23, 2012
When one things leads to another...and another...and another...
Honestly, my weekend was supposed to be slow. Which is why I cleaned my rooms in the back of the house. Not exactly top to bottom, but everything was swept, and vacuumed, and mopped, and washed, and wiped down. Then I started in on some other rooms in my part of the house (just a simple cleaning) because someone is having a party up at the house this coming Saturday and things need to look decent. Next on my list was bringing wood up to the house. Some of the logs are quite heavy so I brought out the lawn mower and attached the little trailer to bring up a couple of loads and then a cart full of kindling from a pile outside the fence line. When I lost the trailer (I just put the pin in since I was only going back and forth in the yard), I thought I may as well mow some large patches just to make things look nice. Wouldn't take five minutes...until I realized how thick they were, which led to raking, which led to lugging a barrel full of grass outside the fence line. Between all that, laundry and some baking; I finally sat down a little after 3 to watch a movie and work on some Wednesday night stuff. No sooner did I have my markers out when my phone rang and a friend wanted to meet for the rest of the afternoon/evening just to hang out. Yes, I needed that nap Sunday afternoon!!!!
Work has been something like that today. I was expecting all the deaths over the weekend - no huge deal. I knew other things might come up, too. But sorting through one patient's folder of insurance claims in order to make an appeal wasn't on the to-do list originally. Neither was jumping hoops for our marketer until I got off the phone with her for the upteenth time and let out a sigh/growl.
"Having a Monday moment?" Linda called from her office.
"No," I replied. "I'm having a thank goodness our marketer is leaving for five or six weeks tomorrow because she's driving me crazy moment."
Linda laughed.
Things are quiet at the moment - probably the calm before the next storm. But it gives me a chance to blog. Maybe send out an e-mail, too. It's going to be a great evening to go out and hit a yellow ball with a racquet!
Work has been something like that today. I was expecting all the deaths over the weekend - no huge deal. I knew other things might come up, too. But sorting through one patient's folder of insurance claims in order to make an appeal wasn't on the to-do list originally. Neither was jumping hoops for our marketer until I got off the phone with her for the upteenth time and let out a sigh/growl.
"Having a Monday moment?" Linda called from her office.
"No," I replied. "I'm having a thank goodness our marketer is leaving for five or six weeks tomorrow because she's driving me crazy moment."
Linda laughed.
Things are quiet at the moment - probably the calm before the next storm. But it gives me a chance to blog. Maybe send out an e-mail, too. It's going to be a great evening to go out and hit a yellow ball with a racquet!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Amidst Floods and Heartaches
I probably try too hard to be practical. To face life as it comes. To be content with what I have and make the most of it. Some of that may come from moving constantly. When you do that, you just learn to lump it. Make friends - leave them. Start a project - leave it. Make a home - what's that? I sound callous. I'm not. It hurts.
So, I put up walls - or I try. That never seems to work out as well as I would like, although most people would probably say I am very hard to get to know. And I try very hard not to dream. Of course, I am a girl. I like fairy tales. I love happily ever afters. But you won't believe how hard I try to not think about them. They hurt.
You might think I'm talking about something very serious...I am. Something in my life I am trying to leave in God's hands and rest upon Him. Some days I do quite well at that. Others I'm just resigned. And, of course, there are tears and the inevitable Melissa-Sturm-trying-to-plan-for-every-contingency. Truth be told, I drive myself crazy.
On the other hand, what I'm talking about isn't so serious...but almost as difficult. You see, I have two favorite seasons: autumn and winter. And for the last three years, I haven't enjoyed either one. Because, you see, Texas doesn't have them. I don't mean they're not on the calendar (although if given the chance, Texans would have their own calendar) - they simply don't exist. This year our leaves were brown in July, thanks to no rain and scorching temperatures. No color, no crisp mornings, no stomping through leaves in the woods. And winter? People keep assuring me that February is on it's way and it will be winter...but when it's nearly 80 degrees out right now, all I want to do is sit down and sob. The lack of frigid mornings, grey skies and the hope of snow makes my heart ache. Literally.
On Wednesday night with the kids, we studied Martin Luther's "A Mighty Fortress is our God". As I read the first verse to them I realized how difficult the language of that hymn is for a 7-year-old. I tried to explain to the kids what "He amidst the floods of mortal ills prevailing" means because, of course, Matt said it was talking about the flood and Noah's ark. I explained it was a metaphor and asked if the kids knew what that meant. Matt pops back with, "Oh, we studied that in school. A metaphor is an example of two things with the comparison of 'like'." (Did I mention Matt is only 11?) After getting over the shock of that answer, I tried to explain that the "flood" in the hymn talks about bad things that happen to us that can seem as overwhelming as a literal flood. I asked if they had ever experienced something like that. In response, I got blank looks. Then 7-year-old Trinity shook her head. "No," she said. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me." All I could think was, "Oh, to be seven again!"
Sadly, one day those children will experience floods. And heartaches. They'll have tough decisions...and choose wrongly. Friends will hurt them or just leave their lives. Dreams will never come true. It's the way of a sinful world. And it hurts. But I pray those children know their Mighty Fortress and cling to Him. Some days it's the only thing that gets me through hard choices...and 80 degree temperatures in January.
So, I put up walls - or I try. That never seems to work out as well as I would like, although most people would probably say I am very hard to get to know. And I try very hard not to dream. Of course, I am a girl. I like fairy tales. I love happily ever afters. But you won't believe how hard I try to not think about them. They hurt.
You might think I'm talking about something very serious...I am. Something in my life I am trying to leave in God's hands and rest upon Him. Some days I do quite well at that. Others I'm just resigned. And, of course, there are tears and the inevitable Melissa-Sturm-trying-to-plan-for-every-contingency. Truth be told, I drive myself crazy.
On the other hand, what I'm talking about isn't so serious...but almost as difficult. You see, I have two favorite seasons: autumn and winter. And for the last three years, I haven't enjoyed either one. Because, you see, Texas doesn't have them. I don't mean they're not on the calendar (although if given the chance, Texans would have their own calendar) - they simply don't exist. This year our leaves were brown in July, thanks to no rain and scorching temperatures. No color, no crisp mornings, no stomping through leaves in the woods. And winter? People keep assuring me that February is on it's way and it will be winter...but when it's nearly 80 degrees out right now, all I want to do is sit down and sob. The lack of frigid mornings, grey skies and the hope of snow makes my heart ache. Literally.
On Wednesday night with the kids, we studied Martin Luther's "A Mighty Fortress is our God". As I read the first verse to them I realized how difficult the language of that hymn is for a 7-year-old. I tried to explain to the kids what "He amidst the floods of mortal ills prevailing" means because, of course, Matt said it was talking about the flood and Noah's ark. I explained it was a metaphor and asked if the kids knew what that meant. Matt pops back with, "Oh, we studied that in school. A metaphor is an example of two things with the comparison of 'like'." (Did I mention Matt is only 11?) After getting over the shock of that answer, I tried to explain that the "flood" in the hymn talks about bad things that happen to us that can seem as overwhelming as a literal flood. I asked if they had ever experienced something like that. In response, I got blank looks. Then 7-year-old Trinity shook her head. "No," she said. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me." All I could think was, "Oh, to be seven again!"
Sadly, one day those children will experience floods. And heartaches. They'll have tough decisions...and choose wrongly. Friends will hurt them or just leave their lives. Dreams will never come true. It's the way of a sinful world. And it hurts. But I pray those children know their Mighty Fortress and cling to Him. Some days it's the only thing that gets me through hard choices...and 80 degree temperatures in January.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Adding to my Repertoire
It's been one of those weeks where a full time handy man needs to follow me around. I think it was Saturday I flipped on one set of the kitchen lights and a bulb blew. Not just any bulb - a special one. So high up I can't even reach it if I stood on the island. When I told Haley she looked up at it and said, "Mmh...I've never changed one of those." And she's lived there for over 12 years! (Well, okay, her dad probably changed one or two in his time, but they've been gone for nearly 3 years...) Hence we still don't have it changed. Maybe we'll do that when we finally take down the Christmas tree. (And as Haley leaves for Russia on Thursday for almost two weeks who knows when that will be!)
Then Sunday night I flipped on the light in my shower and blew it. Now it might actually be a normal bulb, but you have to unscrew the fixture. Which I haven't done yet although I thought about it last night when I had the screwdriver out (get to that in a minute), but I had just taken a shower and it was wet so I didn't want to climb around in it in my pajamas. (Just in case you're wondering, there is another good light in the shower area so I'm not taking my showers in the dark. Not that I couldn't...although shaving could be hazardous.)
But, all in all, I can change a light bulb. (By myself for those who have a joke come to mind - I'm only partly Polish.) When it came to the broken toilet seat yesterday...well, I've never done that before. Thankfully, though, God made my dad my hero. As a little girl I followed him around when he did repairs on Saturdays hoping he'd offer to let me help. Not usually, but I observed. So, replacing a toilet seat wasn't bad at all. Especially since I have two toilets in my bathroom. (I don't get it either, but I guess it's a modern day version of a two-seater outhouse.) The one toilet I broke several months ago, so I took the seat off it and put it on the one that works but had a broken seat. Then I put the broken seat on the broken toilet. (Now everything matches!) They were screwed on two different ways, but really, replacing a toilet seat isn't difficult at all! I must confess I was quite proud of myself.
There are just so many things you learn in life when you're single and live 500 miles from your dad. To be honest, I don't want to learn them all. And I wish other problems in my life could be fixed as easily. But it's all part of growing up, right? (Boy, do I wish I were about five again...)
Then Sunday night I flipped on the light in my shower and blew it. Now it might actually be a normal bulb, but you have to unscrew the fixture. Which I haven't done yet although I thought about it last night when I had the screwdriver out (get to that in a minute), but I had just taken a shower and it was wet so I didn't want to climb around in it in my pajamas. (Just in case you're wondering, there is another good light in the shower area so I'm not taking my showers in the dark. Not that I couldn't...although shaving could be hazardous.)
But, all in all, I can change a light bulb. (By myself for those who have a joke come to mind - I'm only partly Polish.) When it came to the broken toilet seat yesterday...well, I've never done that before. Thankfully, though, God made my dad my hero. As a little girl I followed him around when he did repairs on Saturdays hoping he'd offer to let me help. Not usually, but I observed. So, replacing a toilet seat wasn't bad at all. Especially since I have two toilets in my bathroom. (I don't get it either, but I guess it's a modern day version of a two-seater outhouse.) The one toilet I broke several months ago, so I took the seat off it and put it on the one that works but had a broken seat. Then I put the broken seat on the broken toilet. (Now everything matches!) They were screwed on two different ways, but really, replacing a toilet seat isn't difficult at all! I must confess I was quite proud of myself.
There are just so many things you learn in life when you're single and live 500 miles from your dad. To be honest, I don't want to learn them all. And I wish other problems in my life could be fixed as easily. But it's all part of growing up, right? (Boy, do I wish I were about five again...)
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Entering the New Year
I just read the blog of a friend who took some time to reflect on 2011 and the highlights of each month as the year passed by. It's a good way to end a year - remembering the joys and trials God has brought into your life. And by remembering knowing that that same God will see you through all the joys and trials of the next year. For He will...even though sometimes I wonder.
On January 1, the mother of my assistant pastor's wife passed into eternity. As I was giving my condolences to Mrs. Baker last night, she remarked that her mother just celebrated the new year.
"Yeah," I agreed, "and she had the best celebration anyone could have."
"Amen to that!" Mrs. Baker's daughter agreed with a laugh.
Truthfully, I didn't think much about my comment when I said it. But when I thought about it, I could say "Amen", too.
Imagine starting the new year in eternity with your God and Savior. It doesn't get any better than that!
On January 1, the mother of my assistant pastor's wife passed into eternity. As I was giving my condolences to Mrs. Baker last night, she remarked that her mother just celebrated the new year.
"Yeah," I agreed, "and she had the best celebration anyone could have."
"Amen to that!" Mrs. Baker's daughter agreed with a laugh.
Truthfully, I didn't think much about my comment when I said it. But when I thought about it, I could say "Amen", too.
Imagine starting the new year in eternity with your God and Savior. It doesn't get any better than that!
Monday, January 2, 2012
Growing Up
When I was home, I took my “baby” brother out for breakfast one morning and we got to talking about – what else? – basketball. He was talking about his teammate and I made an observation. One winter I assisted in coaching a team of 5 to 8 year olds. We tried to teach them the basics of the game – shooting, dribbling, passing, basic rules – but they all had one object: get the ball. They might not know what to do with it once they got it, but above all else they wanted to hold that ball. Then they grow up to play varsity and guess what? You have to teach them to rebound. No longer is the object of the game to get the ball.
The apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:11 tells us, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” And, it’s true, we have to grow up. We have to put away childish fits and days full of play in exchange for acceptance and responsibility. And while we would never want to remain a child all our living days, sometimes it would be heavenly to be a child again.
I mean, what about our childhood dreams? I played with my dolls for hours, dressing them and putting them down for naps while I “cooked” and “cleaned house” for my “husband” to arrive home. I took my dolls “shopping” and was their “teacher” at “school”. (We’ll skip over the fact I got into a bit of trouble at times for such things if I decided to “cook” with materials not qualified as playthings.) All very natural for a little girl whose deepest desires are to be a wife and mother. Maybe if I had been more practical I would have played office and put “files” in alphabetical order. But I didn’t dream of spending most of my adult life behind a desk. (Who does?) Now I sit here and wish I had a doll to go home and dress...and dream.
I have to confess I didn’t spent much time imagining I was a princess, but I did play dress up. I imagined myself on stage in my mother’s old sparkling dance leotards. Then I caught the dream of being a gymnast and spent hours turning cartwheels and spinning about on my swing set with the fanciful idea I’d be the next Mary Lou Retton. I could just see myself in a red, white and blue leotard receiving a gold medal. Sadly, I shall never fulfill that dream. But it would be nice to get up from this desk and turn a cartwheel in the parking lot. (Yes, I can still turn cartwheels.)
I got a letter from a little friend of mine in New Hampshire who wanted to know all about how to get a book published because she loves to write. The truth is it costs money to publish as I did, something I could afford only as a co-writer. When I was her age, though, I didn’t know that. I spent hours scribbling, dreaming of being a published writer who could do nothing but scribble all day long. Now that dream hasn’t dissipated. I still imagine myself in a little cabin in the mountains with a faithful Golden Retriever, sitting before my computer writing words someone thinks worth publishing even if it’s not a best-seller. But with a fulltime job and everything else I’m involved in, I’ve hardly time to write at all let alone send out fruitless letters to publishing companies. But I will tell my little friend to keep writing. Who knows…with some work, dreams can come true.
It’s a little bit sad we have to grow up. We have to put away our dolls, we stop chasing balls and we know our backs would give out if we tried a walk-over. But I’m speaking to the choir when I say we shouldn’t give up childhood fun entirely. It’s not wrong to keep writing and hoping. Or build a dollhouse in hopes God might still bless a nearly-32-year-old-woman with a husband and so little girls of her own to enjoy it. And things like mini-golf, or picnics, or puzzles are just as fun now as they were over 20 years ago.
So, maybe it should be my New Year’s Resolution to enjoy my life a little bit more. Relax when I get home from work, keep my Saturdays free to do something that will make me laugh and not take my responsibilities quite so seriously (a defect of a firstborn). After all, the same God who told us to put away childish things also said, “Laughter doeth good like a medicine.” And some days I could use a whole bottle of that!
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