The Stories of Our Tree

Our family has accumulated so many Christmas ornaments that we might have to add another tree next year. We don't ever have a themed tree or even a very elegant one, but it always looks fabulous to us. It is filled with memories of friends and family and places we've been. This year, it is nice to be home and able to enjoy it for the entire month of December.



For several years, my friend Eric owned a home store and carried fabulous Christmas ornaments. Many of the ones on my tree (and on my friend's trees) came from there.



This dates back to my child hood. It's part of the stash Mom and Dad sent with me when I had my first apartment and put up my own tree. Eyeore is somewhere on the tree, too, but he's missing an eye.



After we visited Paris and found this ornament, we began to make a point of picking up a Christmas ornament wherever we traveled in Europe. We have ones from England, Scotland, Ireland, Austria, Germany, France and Czech Republic. Somehow we missed getting one in Italy. Guess we'll have to go back!



At the church where I grew up, we had Advent Workshops every year. All the Sunday School rooms got turned in to little workshops to make gifts of ornaments, food and other items, like Advent Wreaths. This ornament was made at one of these events and dates back at least 30 years. it is a clothespin replica of a Westminster Presby choir member.




Since Maddie was born, Mom has been collecting ornaments that represent the things she was interested in the previous year. Here are Bob and Larry from Veggie Tales. There are also Care Bears, Disney Princesses, Blues Clues, Strawberry Shortcake and Madeleine ornaments.




For many years now, friends Olivia and Leigh Ann and I have been exchanging ornaments at Christmas time. They always pick great ones. This one came from O in 2003.



When I was in high school and college and beyond, my mom would give me a musical themed ornament each year. The baby grand piano recently lost a leg, but bass playing Santa is holding up well.



When we lived in Boston, there was a Dunkin Donuts on every corner. When I was pregnant with Maddie, hardly a day went by that I did not have a small hazelnut, black coffee with a chocolate covered donut. No wonder I gained 60 pounds! Oddly enough, since she was born, my donut cravings completely disappeared. I rarely have them anymore, even when they are out and available at church or a meeting. But I still miss that Dunkin Donuts coffee. And no, the stuff you buy in the store just isn't quite same.



One of our favorite things about London--the double decker bus!



My husband's hometown of Brookfield, Connecticut puts out a commemorative ornament each year depicting a building or landmark in the town. Each year, his parents give him one and we have about 10 or 12 on the tree.


Here's hoping you have a tree filled with memories as well. And, if not, this year might be a great time to start one.

The Dream of the Table

I wrote this several years ago for Thanksgiving, so I thought I'd post it today.

Today, a dream will be lived out across this great country.

There is a gigantic table, with countless people sitting at it and eating together: women and men, children and adults, healthy and frail, poor and rich, black folks and white folks and yellow folks. An investment banker from New York is seated next to a truck stop waitress from Montana. An Iowa farmer exchanges stories with a New England fisherman. A bearded professor from Berkeley passes the gravy to an auto mechanic from the Deep South. A young soldier laughs at a joke an old lady tells him.


We dream this dream for a single afternoon each year as we gather around the Thanksgiving Day table. For it seems then that our entire nation offers a single prayer and sits down to a single meal. Indeed Thanksgiving is the most universally celebrated holiday in our nation. The dinner is shared in the homes of the wealthy, the middle class, and the poor. It takes place in soup kitchens and suburban restaurants, and happens with studied formality and with casual folksiness. It feels as though all our people eat together today. On this one afternoon, we dream, however fitfully, "The Dream of the Table." And for a moment we see what God wants for us and for all people.

Yet the sad thing is that Thanksgiving Day is but one day, and the rest of the years seems different, somehow. The dream remains a dream. The world does not normally appear as a dinner where all people share, and all people feast, and all people give thanks. Not all share, for some have plenty and some have none. Not all feast, for some throw food out and others die from hunger. Not all give thanks, for some cannot see past their wealth and others cannot see past their poverty. The dream remains a dream. It seems insubstantial. And so on Thanksgiving Day we seek consolation in yet another helping or in too long a time spent in front of the television.

What great barriers keep the dream from becoming real? What prevents us from taking our places at the table, and helping others find their own places?

The dream is interrupted because we don’t believe in the promises of God. We don’t believe in the Bible.

Now I’m not talking about whether or not you believe that the Bible is literal or figurative or allegory. I’m talking about not believing that the Bible is true—the true story of God’s action in this world. The true story of God’s promises. The true story of promises kept.
Our dream of the great table is not realized year-round because we stake our claim on the promises of the world rather than on the promises of God.
The world tells us there will never be enough and we must grab all we can. God promises abundance and calls us to share all we can.

The world tells us we are entitled to whatever it is we want. God assures us that what we have are blessings from God.

The world tells us life is a burden. God grants life as a gift.

The world tells us to trust people who are part of the established order. Jesus reached out to those who lived on the fringes.

What makes the table a distant dream is that we choose not to trust in the promises of God. Lack of trust prevents us from sharing. It causes us to cling tight to what is ours and to focus our energies on getting more. And when we do receive a miracle like the lepers in our scripture today, our lack of trust causes us to run off to celebrate without every pausing to say “thank you.” After all, don’t we deserve to be whole.? Don’t we deserve whatever it is we get?

But as we cling to what is ours, as we smugly claim entitlement, as we take more than we give, we find ourselves anxious and alone and far, far away from the table.

Thanksgiving is here. Once again, we experience that haunting dream of the universal table where all people share, and feast, and give thanks. Will the dream come true for us this year? Will we, in reality, find our places at the table, and help others find theirs?

Will be the ones who feel entitled to whatever comes our way, or will we be the ones to stop, turn and offer thanks for the gift of life? Will we be the ones who shun the lepers, the outcasts, the broken, the poor, the addicted, or will we be the ones who stretch out our hands to offer acceptance, healing and wholeness? Will the table we gather round on a daily basis be an open one or a closed one?

The choice is ours.

Be Like Tofu

Tofu gets a bad rap. Most people turn up their nose at the sound of the word, but I’d wager most people don’t even know what it is! Everyone has heard of it, every grocery store sells it, and whether you know it or not, you’ve probably eaten it (especially if you frequent Chinese restaurants). What is this strange, yet ever-present substance?

As cheese is to milk, so tofu is to the soybean. As a cow gives milk, so does a soybean give soymilk. As animal milk is separated into curds and whey in the production of cheese, so soymilk is separated into curds and whey to form tofu. The remarkable thing about tofu is that it takes on the flavor of whatever it’s mixed with. Soft tofu can be blended to create sweet treats. Firm tofu can be marinated, sautéed and baked for a savory dish. In fact, unlike most foods, the more you do to tofu, the better it tastes.

So as Thanksgiving approaches, and we officially kick off the holiday season, let's be like tofu. We can take on the flavor of whatever we’re mixed with. We can choose to blend into the consumer frenzy of the season and wear ourselves out trying to find the perfect gift for everyone in our lives. We can opt to baste in the Martha Stewart mandate to create perfectly decorated homes, multitudes of baked goods and flawless fowl dinners. We can simmer in the Santa Claus saturated media version of the holidays.

Or, we can choose to marinate in the spirit of the season. We can bake in the abundance of Thanksgiving and in the Good News of the birth of Christ. We can simmer in good deeds toward all God’s creatures. We can be seasoned with prayer and promise. We can bubble over with joy.

This holiday season, we are like tofu. We can be whatever we want to be. Choose your flavor.

The Monday Before Thanksgiving

Thought I would post the link to the above-titled short film on the day for which it is named. It's about 20 minutes long, but when you have a chance, take a look. It's a great lesson for all of us who think that everyone needs the same things we do. And it celebrates and affirms the choice to be single.

The Monday Before Thanksgiving

Good News For Us All

Shane Claiborne made Equire Magazine's best and brightest of 2009. He is one of my personal heroes. Here is his article. There may be hope for the church, yet.

Letter to Non-Believers

We're gonna make it after all

When we lived in Germany, Maddie and I used to sing the Mary Tyler Moore theme walking down the street. I started singing it again this week. She's been out of school since Tuesday, but was only really sick for two days. But having your kid spike a fever that wouldn't be brought down by medicine the day after you visit a friend's child in the ICU unit is a little scarier than it normally would be. And as I am on day four of staying at home with a sick kid, my patience is stretched pretty thin.

Of course, both mother and husband are out of town this week. Thank goodness for my dad who could run errands for us in the evening. When I got Maddie's prescription, she felt so rotten that I just dropped of the order and Dad went to pick it up and brought it to the house. I feel so bad for those parents who don't have ANY support system and have to sit in Walgreens for half-an-hour or more with their sick, feverish kids just to get the medicine they need. Dad was also great with the smoothie delivery--which was just the ticket for a kid with strep.

This was going to be such a productive week for me. Husband gone, so no cooking and one less person to pick up after (amazing how clean our bathroom stays when only one of us is using it!). Daughter in school all week. Plenty of time to get house in order, lay out plans for Advent, get my office at church organized, eat healthily and exercise every day. Oh, well. Best laid plans.

Now there are just two days of school before Thanksgiving break. I think Maddie and her dad will be spending some quality time together over the break while I catch up on all the things I meant to get done this week!

Am ready to do some holiday cooking and baking with all the ingredients I need for whatever I want to prepare all available at my local grocery store.

A Talking on the Phone Day

Spent a part of my day on the phone doing some community organizing (I'm not a real community organizer, but may start to play one at the corner of 4th and Maple) bringing together the owners of a home who are applying for a re-zoning permit in order to house a rental office out of the first floor, members of the church and members of the business community. There is concern about the kind of traffic this business will generate, so we're all going to get together and try to work things out at the church in about a week.

Another part of my day was spent on the phone discussing the Baker Bazaar, the school's big December fundraiser. Each class makes something and then sells it in this big market held at a local Methodist Church. Our class is making decoupaged light switch and electric outlet covers. Guess who gets to buy the materials and help teach the kids how to make them? A little decoupage time may be just what I need right about now.

The part of the day that about did me in was my trip up to Children's Hospital's ICU to see friends from college whose son has severe pneumonia from H1N1 complications. They are holding up much better than I would be. I wonder how heavy a dose of tranquilizers they would have to give me if Maddie ever ends up in the ICU. And then, of course, they'd have to double that for Skip. I'm going back to check on my friends on Wednesday with magazines and crosswords in hand. Prayers for the Randolph family are appreciated. This was also the cause for many phone calls today to let other friends from college who are here in town know what's going on. Fortunately, there are a lot of Centenary College class of 91,92,93 around these parts, so hopefully we can be helpful during the time they have to be here.

I am so thankful for my kid today for a number of reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that she let me off the hook from the Baker Elementary Thanksgiving lunch and didn't even know it. I've done one lunch at her elementary school where parents and friends are invited, and it is such madness! Crowded and loud and hot. I was so not looking forward to a repeat, and I was going to have to shuffle some things at church to make it. She just came to me on Saturay and said, "Mom, I don't even like what they're serving for that lunch and it's always so crowded. Could you just come and have lunch with me on Monday instead?" I love this kid! I picked up Sonic for both of us and went up to school and we had 20 minutes to sit and eat and visit. I'm going to do that more often. It was a lot of fun. And it didn't involve the phone.

Evil Forces and Entrepreneurs

"There are forces loose in this land that threaten to rip and tear asunder the very fabric of this republic." --Senator John McClellan.

There were definitely forces loose in the church and its immediate vicinity in the two hours that led up to worship today. By the time I got up to welcome everyone, I was completely frazzled and rung out. Following worship was a lunch and a session meeting, so I didn't even make it home until almost 4 p.m. That's when Skip called wondering why I hadn't responded to any of his text messages. I told him that I really couldn't even begin to get into it, but I was glad he arrived in London safely. I collapsed in the recliner for about 45 minutes, then got up to make dinner and help Maddie with her latest entreprenurial endeavor.

When she started going door to door selling the earrings and charms she made (like disappearing from the house with her box of goodies and cold calling the neighbors), we figured we had to do something. So I took this as a "teaching moment" opportunity. Now Maddie (in partnership with her mom) has her own Etsy page. Etsy is an on-line marketplace for handmade items. She has had to come up with pricing based on the cost of materials as well as the time she spends. She is definitely pricing to sell, but she knows she has to make enough to buy more supplies to make more jewelry. She has only posted a few items so far, but I told her to start slow and build. She's also come up with ideas of things for ME to make and sell, so we'll see how that goes. Maybe after Christmas.

Maddie's Shop

Check back often. There will be new items every week. Sure beats a paper route.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Ahh, the back to real life and home where the counters haven't been wiped down or the floors vacuumed all week. I told my husband that the next time I'm gone, we'll have to have a refresher course in basic home care. I had to fix all the meals myself today and fresh, clean towels were not neatly folded up on a cart down the hall. Bummer.

My shoulder "injury" or whatever it is has reared it's ugly head again. I'm not ready for a chronic problem just yet. Surely such things would be decent enough to wait until after my 40th birthday. Wouldn't you think?

I need to get a little focused. Too many creative things to dive into right now. Advent planning. Holiday baking preparations. Something I'm writing that I'd really like to finish. A sewing project I want to try involving a pair of jeans my kid has outgrown. Finding a way to make a little extra money for the holidays. Some knitting--something about the cold weather always makes me want to start knitting again.

Plus there's all that non-creative stuff that has to be dealt with, too. Laundry. Church maintenance issues. Pledge drive. Food preparation. Re-tuning my guitar that has been tuned to open-G because I left my other guitar at Ferncliff and didn't want to drive back out there to get it today.

I just finished a video proposal for money from the Committee for Congregational Care and Development. I've got to get it approved by the session tomorrow at our meeting before sending it on, but any feedback would be appreciated.

Encouraged

It's not very often that I feel encouraged about the future of the PCUSA, but after spending a week with the staff of our camps and conferences around the country, I feel like maybe we can be saved. A group of people with a real heart for mission and evangelism who look for new and creative ways to share the Gospel with kids and adults. And, yes! They were all Presbyterians.

Getting to spend time with J. Herbert Nelson, founding pastor of the Liberation Presbyterian Church in Memphis has also been great. Very thankful to have made that connection.

We capped off our last worship with a visit from the Gloryland Pastor's Choir. They know how to do church! They came to Ferncliff last summer to do a choir camp and tonight we took up an offering to help fund camp for them this year.



Must head back into real life tomorrow. Re-entry is always tough after a week at camp!

The Stuff They Skip in the History Books

The keynote speaker at the conference this week is Rev. J. Herbert Nelson. Rev. Nelson grew up in Orangeburg, South Carolina and in one of his keynotes he told us about being a young child at the time of the Orangeburg Massacre. I had never heard of it. If you haven't either, you need to check out the story.

Orangeburg Massacre




I find it really curious that this incident has just kind of slipped out of our history.

Long, long, good, good day

A very tiring, worship-filled day. Will sleep well tonight.

Let worship at First Church this morning. Great song offered up by Art Hymel to kick off worship. Am hoping that God will send us some more musicians soon. I feel a little all-Anne-all-the-time right now. I would love to plan worship and then just sit back until it was time to preach and let others take the lead. My husband did a great job as liturgist, and we have others who are really good lay leaders, so we're getting there.

Then out to Ferncliff where it took about 10 people, two computers and three projectors to get my worship plans to project on the screen. That was a little wearing. Worship was a little nutty, but it went well overall. Can't write anymore tonight. Have got to hit the hay.

A David Sedaris Kind of Evening

I just experienced a series of events that felt like they came right out of a David Sedaris essay. So I tried to write it up as he would have, but it reads better if you imagine his voice saying it.

So I took my daughter, along with a friend and her daughter, to see Little House on the Prarie—the Musical. Starring Melissa Gilbert as Ma. It was entertaining, not spectacular, but entertaining. The girl who played Lara looked about 15, but her bio said she has a BFA from Carnegie Melon, so I’m guessing she’s more like 25. She had a powerful voice that made me wonder if she wasn’t the dark-haired love child of Kristen Chenoweth. I’m sure it played well in Peoria, but the whole thing might have been a little more impressive had Ms. Gilbert been as good of a singer as her castmates.

I don't imagine the play will go on to be a classic as none of the songs could be sung independently of the play. Every song's lyrics tied it specifically to the plot line. There was no ballad that could be sung at weddings or funerals. No show stopper that will be picked up next season on an episode of "Glee". No numbers that pageant contestants will be working up for upcoming competitions. Nothing that could have a life of its own.

After the play, we got into my friend’s car and both our children were complaining of hunger in a way that made it sound like they were dying. My response was, “Don’t make me beat you.” But my friend is a kinder and gentler soul, and she suggested we drive through Starbucks. I wondered what kind of coffee her eight-year-old would want, until she asked, "You girls want some cookies?"

I told her that I didn’t think the Starbucks in Little Rock stayed open this late. It was 10:30, but she decided to take her chances in the drive-thru. As she rolled down her window, a cheery male voice came over the speaker. “Thank you for choosing Starbucks. Unfortunately, we’re closed now, but we’ll re-open at 5:30 in the morning.”

What? Did he think we might sit there at the drive-thru until the sun came up and we could score a triple-shot mocha latte? Did he think that we wanted whatever we were going to order so badly that we would be back the moment the doors opened again?

We then went on to McDonalds, which was open and had a four-car line at the drive-thru. This must be where the post-theater crowd hangs out in Little Rock. After asking the girls if they would share a McFlurry and not wanting to drag out the argument over which kind to get, we decided they could each have their own. I was still leaning toward the beating, but I wasn’t driving.

My friend placed the order and the lady told her that the ice cream machine was down. Apparently, the machine automatically shuts off at 11:30 every night so that it is cooled down before the midnight close. It was only 10:30, but the machine had not fallen back last weekend when daylight savings time ended. Perhaps the coffee machine should have called to remind it. I guess there will be no ice cream after 10:30 in downtown until we spring forward again.

So then my friend asked about cookies. The lady said, “We have cookies, but probably not the kind you’re thinking about.” “What kind am I thinking about,” asked my friend. “You probably want those good chocolate chip cookies they have at the Burger King,” said the voice. “but all we got is those boxes with the little cookies.”

“I don’t want cookies,” says one of the kids from the back seat.

“Do you have apple pies?” my friend asks, in what I hope is a last ditch effort.

Yes! They had the pies. Both kids wanted pies. Nobody had to be beaten.

Ahhh, to be able to practice what one preaches

My house is a wreck. I've got overdue library books I can't find. There is a pile of laundry that needs to be put away. The refrigerator is almost empty. I've to three more days until I'm supposed to lead worship at a conference for Presby camp folks and my daughter will be out of school for all of them. Also, there's that whole Sunday morning worship thing to prepare for. Please God, send us a piano player soon! I may be teetering on the edge of a major panic attack or some sort of hysterical episode.

I was just fine tuning a draft of a message I started writing about two weeks ago and I had to stop and give myself a great big eye roll when I got to this part:

Take a Sabbath from anxiety by the realization that you can’t fix everything, nothing will ever be enough and the world is not dependant on you. Take a Sabbath from anxiety by acknowledging that all we need is available to us from God.

Did I really write that? And is anybody going to listen to me when I don't even listen to me? I think I have a little inner-work to do before I can be authentic in my presentation.

Spaghetti Supper and Pumpkin Fudge Recipe

Spaghetti supper at church was a huge success. Over $1000 dollars raised. That will help pay the bill for the work that kept the wall from collapsing! The spaghetti was good, but the desserts were the big hit. People really outdid themselves. My mom made this fabulous banana pudding that the people working in the kitchen were holding back to make sure it didn't run out before they could have some. Our treasurer made some great cobbler. Friends Jim and Glen brought this ooey, gooey, chocolate cake, that I actually heard someone moan over as they ate it. And I brought the pumpkin fudge.

I've taken this dessert to two different places and it has received rave reviews. It really is yummy. Here is the recipe, adapted slightly from Southern Living's.

3 cups sugar
3/4 cup melted butter
2/3 cup evaporated milk
1/2 cup canned pumpkin
2 tablespoons corn syrup
2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1 (12-ounce) package white chocolate morsels
1 3/4 cup mini-marshmallows
1 cup chopped pecans, toasted (optional)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract


Stir together first 6 ingredients over medium-high heat, and cook, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil. Cook, stirring constantly, until a candy thermometer registers 234° (soft-ball stage) or for about 12 minutes. Seriously, you need to stir constantly.

Remove pan from heat; stir in remaining ingredients until well blended (I find the white chocolate morsels don't melt all the way unless you chop them up first, but it is also good with some small white chocolate chunks in it). Pour into a greased aluminum foil-lined 9-inch square pan. Let stand 2 hours or until completely cool; cut fudge into squares. Don't make this unless you have somewhere to share it. It makes a lot and there is danger is having it in your home.

Not a Joke

This is Palm Beach Sugar Daddy Ken. It will be available to you in April of 2010. Seriously.

I am currently resting my injured shoulder (have no idea how it became injured) on nice squishy ice pack. A friend of mine who is an OT gave me the "ice pack recipe". You put 1 cup rubbing alcohol and 3 cups water into a gallon-sized ziploc bag. It will get as cold as a regular ice pack, but the alcohol keeps the mixture from freezing solid and it conforms to the shape of whatever body part you need iced. So much more comfy than the cubes.

Hoping to be able to sleep better tonight. Hopefully, the ice, ibuprofen, stretching regimen will help ease the pain. Am having newfound empathy for people who deal with chronic pain. After just over two days with this pain, I'm kind of a wreck. My thinking and coping skills are somewhat (some might say severely) compromised. Folks who deal with it every day for an indefinite amount of time are made of stronger stuff than me.