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.