The Child's-Eye View

A few priceless remarks from a couple of priceless children:

***
We went to the park with Camie (Rosemary's daughter) and Mom (whom the kids call Mam). As I was getting Stuart out of the van, Mom said, "I have to go, Sara. Camie's found her feet."

Addie intervened, "Mam, her feet are on the end of her body!"

***

Stuart wanted me to carry him the entire fifteen feet across the yard to the house. I refused. "Your legs are perfectly capable of walking."

"My legs are not walking," Stuart objected. "They're fit to me."

***

Addie has a book of opposites that contrasts "tough" and "tender." She also has a Magic Schoolbus video in which Keisha says she's going to "ask Ms. Frizzle some tough questions." It took me quite a while to put those two facts together as Addie chattered on about being "full of tender questions."

***

-- SJ

Christmas in the South

For three Christmases, we stayed home to celebrate. The first year, Stuart was a newborn, so we were glad to stay put. The second year, we'd done a lot of traveling, and didn't want to go anywhere. Last year, it was lonely and I was depressed and I told Darren we weren't spending another stupid Christmas by ourselves. So this year we went to Mississippi.

(Which looks like a really random choice of a Christmas vacation, to those who don't know my roots.)

Because we got home at 1:30 this morning, I'm feeling singularly uninspired now as I try to write a brief and interesting account of our Southern Christmas. (I can probably accomplish a long and dull account, but that's a sorry return after a week's absence.) I'll save it until after I've gotten a little more sleep, or after I've sorted everything out. It was a very busy week, full of family, friends, and fevers.

I did get to meet my newest neice, Felicity, who is easily the smallest baby I've ever seen. By the time we left, Felicity at her 2-week checkup weighed more than her birth weight. Tests have indicated that her lungs are clear... and according to Mom, who kept the baby while Rosemary took Camie to the doctor, Felicity has developed an impressive volume herself.

Happy New Year, y'all! Good to be back.

-- SJ

A Couple Random Comments

1) Sara and I went to see the Narnia movie today. I loved it! For those of you who haven't seen it, go. It's really worth it.

Of course, Sara and I enjoyed it differently. She pointed out how pretty the dresses were at the coronation; I breathed "Cool" when the centaur drew two swords at once. I love the concept of fantasy battles. I bought a pack of military strategy games a couple years ago that included both "Panzer General" and "Fantasy General." I played "Panzer" a couple times, but I never could tell the difference between various types of tanks, planes, and infantry. When I switched to "Fantasy," I enjoyed it much more. I had no idea what the difference between Panzer III and Panzer IV tanks was, but I could visualize in a heartbeat the difference in capability between a wyvern, a flying serpent, and a black dragon.

I think the scene that gave me the most chills was when Aslan was marching to the Stone Table through a crowd of evil creatures. All I could think of was the line from Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent: "The Light of Light descendeth from the realms of endless day that the powers of hell may vanish..."

2) While putting Addie to bed tonight, she asked (again; this is about the fifth time in two months) why some people did bad things. Addie apparently is as fascinated with the concept of sin as Augustine and his great protege, Calvin. I did my best to explain it to her, and she paused to reflect. I was preparing to explain again to her that we can always come to Jesus for forgiveness, when she asked with great seriousness, "What would happen if I swallowed a rope?"

Bong. The Randomizer has spoken.

--DJ

A Response to Mrs. Focht

Dear Rose,

No, I haven’t been deliberately ignoring your question of what constitutes a poem. I’ve been formulating a response – otherwise known as procrastinating. :)

I think that Brooks would probably be able to give you a more technical answer. All I can do, really, is adopt the definition used by a Supreme Court justice when asked to define pornography: “I know it when I see it.” But basically I’d say that the major difference between poetry and prose is the high tolerance – nay, necessity – of ambiguity and symbolism in poetry.

Much English poetry, especially that published before, say, 1900 was highly metered and rhymed. I’ve heard different claims for the origins of rhyming poetry, including that it was the Irish who first came up with the idea. But if you look back at the earliest poetry that most of us are familiar with, the Psalms, they aren’t rhymed. Instead, the poetry consists of a dualistic structure, or sometimes triple.

E.g., “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.” Here we have one set of dualism, and one triple. My poem was based on the triple.

From what little I’ve seen of 20th century English poetry, it seems to be moving more to a free-flowing style, with concentration on symbolism rather than so much focus on rhyme. In my opinion, this sometimes lends itself to sloppiness; rather than getting really creative about the symbolism, as rhyme forces you to do, some poets just dash it off. However, if you look at some earlier Christian devotional poetry, especially in the 19th century, I think the writers were just as mentally lazy. The rhymes can be very forced, and the sentiments banal.

My very favorite poem ever is a sonnet: strictly metered and rhymed. And my favorite poets are the older ones: Donne and Herbert. That being said, I enjoy a lot of modern, non-rhymed poetry, especially Kathleen Norris.

And then, of course, there are the authors whose prose is so symbolically rich that it’s almost poetry, like Patricia McKillip and Calvin Miller, whose books sing.

--DJ

Physics for Light Reading

In the interests of keeping my mind sharp and energized, I went to the library and got a physics book.

The title of this book isn't important. The point is, it explains basic physics in an understandable way, using familiar examples to illustrate its points... okay, okay, the book is called "The Physics of Superheroes," and it's about comic book characters.

So far I've wrestled with questions such as, "How much force would Superman have to exert to leap a tall building in a single bound?" (Answer: A lot. He would have to launch off the ground at 140 mph.); "Could Spider-Man really swing himself through the city on his webbing?" (Answer: Yes. Spider-silk is incredibly strong.); "How much would the Flash have to eat to be able to run at the speed of light?" (Answer: pretty much all the time.)

I admit, I skip the physics discussions at times, and just read the comic-book character descriptions: the author is a real comic-book geek. But when I do concentrate on the physics part, I find myself understanding lots of things I thought I already knew, or things I never quite got the first time around. I don't have a physicist's mind, which insists on trying to explain how everything works. But I do enjoy tagging along after they've done all the explaining. And part of my determination to make it through this book is self-defense: as soon as Addie-the-Science-Girl is old enough to start looking into the world around her, she's going shoot way out ahead of me. I'd best get a headstart now.

In my opinion, the author... and all of us earth-bound humans bored with our mundane life... miss the fact that we don't need superheroes to experience the mystical, amazing, and unbelievable: simply trying to comprehend atoms, energy, and supernovas is enough superpower for me for one day.

-- SJ

Felicitous News

Felicity Marie was born at 8:30 this morning. She weighed 5 lbs, 3 oz, a nice little size. She's in NICU right now so they can observe her, and will have x-rays later to check her lungs. But evidently she's having no initial problems. Thank you very much for praying. Meanwhile, Camie is being traded around among various family members, eating cookies, going to the mall, and figuring that having a baby sister isn't half bad.

Felicity shares a birthday with her Uncle Neil. And December 14 is an especially significant day in the Roberts/McAdory family: it was the official beginning of Christmas every year. We never put up a tree until after the 14th. Mom said it was so Neil could have a birthday separate from Christmas, but the tradition went to Neil's head, and he says it's because a curse would fall on the family otherwise. Now with Felicity's arrival, I suppose the legend is pretty much set in stone.

Welcome to Felicity, and thank you all for your prayers!

-- SJ

Pray for a Safe Arrival

My mom called today to say that Rosemary is being induced, and should deliver Felicity soon. She went in for her weekly ultrasound, and her amniotic fluid was too low. They estimate that the baby should weigh about 5 pounds, which isn't a very scary weight. But there still may be problems with Felicity's lungs, so please pray for safety and wisdom. Thank you!

-- SJ

A Christmas Poem

Four years ago, I was driving home and listening to the radio. The song, "Mary, Did You Know?" was playing, and I was struck by the contrast between what Mary saw (a newborn son) and what was true (that newborn son was also her creator). When I got home, I wrote a poem about it, and Lindsay, Evan, and I read it at the Chestnut Hill Christmas Eve service.

Last Friday night, at the annual HSLDA Christmas Party, two legal assistants with great voices helped me read it. I thought people might like it.

O, Mary, See

Your newborn baby
Not contained even by immortal eternity
Imprisoned by hatred of mortals

See the little hands
That made pinwheels of galaxies
Impaled on cruel spikes

Observe the minute perfection of His tiny feet
Feet that ran the Milky Way, leaving traces of stars in His wake
Fastened to a wooden pole

The dainty ears like ocean shells
That heard melodies sung by ancient stars
Heard "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!"

Lips smiling at secrets only infants know
The mouth that spoke the universe into being
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do"

A head already covered with wisps of curly hair
Enclosing the mind that envisioned all of existence
The mind that loved all of existence

Born to bring you joy
To fulfill plans and promises old before Eden
To save us all.


May God bless your Christmas, and may you come to know better the Incarnate Son of God, born of a virgin, who by his death and resurrection has purchased for us eternal life.

--DJ

Through the Wardrobe

On Saturday, Leah G. and I dropped my kids off at a neighbor's house and hurried to town. It was very important that we get there on time. We had a bare half-hour until we met with Aslan.

Yes, in a rare reversal of fortune, I got to see a movie before Darren did. And Leah and I have been waiting for weeks for this particular movie. I can't say that "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" was the most spectacular movie I've ever seen. Parts of it were a little clunky, as if the screenwriters said, "People will be looking for this part, so let's put it in here. Okay, off we go now!" However, there was a benefit to their caution: Lewis' full story is in the movie, and Aslan himself is deep without being ponderous. I loved the overall experience. It certainly made Narnia beautiful. I want to live in Narnia now -- preferably, Leah and I decided, in Cair Paravel.

Leah was the ideal viewing companion: we whispered remarks to one another throughout the film. Some of the comments were relevant: "The kids are cast perfectly." Some of them simply notes of interest: "Father Christmas is wearing a wedding ring." And some of them simply female: "I love Susan's dress! I want a dress like Susan's!" "Is it non-wrinkle?" "Well, you know, no starch or elastic to be found from one end of the country to the other."

Then, today, I talked to the neighbor who had kept the kids. She grew up in a secular home and knows very little about Christian culture, only recently attending church at all. She exclaimed, "Oh, I wanted to tell you, today at church the pastor preached on the Narnia movie! Apparently C.S. Lewis was a really strong Christian and you can make his story into all kinds of symbolism." Well, yes, that's why I teared up when Aslan appeared onscreen, and again when the Stone Table broke. And hurray to that pastor for revealing the message behind the movie.

Darren still has to see it, which we hope to make a date to do... although if need be, I'll let him go out and see it on his own so he doesn't have to wait too long. But I intend to see it at least once more, before buying in on DVD

-- SJ

* As a side note: Stuart and Addie saw the online preview once or twice. They liked it. Now it's hard to walk through the house without stepping on Aslan. He eats breakfast with Stuart, hides in our Game Closet, and been occupied in other ways as well: I've heard mention of "Mrs. Aslan" and "Baby Aslans."

Pictures of Cute Kids

Addie and Stuart recently visited a fire station. I wish I could have gone with them!

--DJ

Survey from QOC

I'm a sucker for surveys.

Seven things to do before I die:
1. Visit England and see Stonehenge and Glastonbury
2. Visit Poland
3. Have either a short story or poetry published
4. See my grandchildren baptized
5. Own a home with a fireplace and a library
6. Ride in a limousine
7. Read “War and Peace”

Seven things I cannot do:
1. Finish “War and Peace” – I started it 3 times and got bogged down every time by all the Russian names
2. Fix cars
3. Get too excited about the relative merits of “Merry Christmas” vs. “Happy Holidays.” “Season’s Greetings,” on the other hand, always annoys me.
4. Write believable, non-expository dialogue
5. Enjoy washing dishes
6. Eat/drink anything caffeinated after 5:00 p.m.
7. Pack bag lunches

Seven things that attract me to Sara:
1. Her sense of humor
2. Her writing ability
3. Her dimple
4. Her ability to make interesting conversations about even mundane things
5. Her creativity in playing with the kids
6. Her unqualified support of me
7. Her desire to get closer to God

Seven things I say most often:
1. Okay.
2. Let’s go.
3. I love you.
4. Good morning/afternoon, this is Darren. How can I help you?
5. Hello, Gorgeous.
6. I just read on a blog today that…
7. I just found a great new author.

Seven books or authors that I love:
1. J.R.R. Tolkien
2. Pope John Paul the Great
3. Kathleen Norris
4. Richard Foster
5. Robert Webber
6. Robert Jordan (the first 6 Wheel of Time books)
7. Patricia McKillip

Seven movies I would watch over and over again:
1. The Lord of the Rings trilogy
2. Ladyhawke
3. X-Men I & II
4. Pride & Prejudice (the 6-hour version)
5. Princess Bride
6. Joseph (the Ted Turner version)
7. Toy Story I & II

I've probably forgotten some things here, but that's a start anyway.

--DJ

Special Thanksgiving Dispensation

We believe that we're living in a different Thanksgiving dispensation, so that the former rituals of turkey for Thanksgiving no longer apply... oh, sorry, that's not what I meant.

Thanks to y'all who posted what you're thankful for. I think we posted our Thanksgiving Tree request too close to the holidays (giving all you ungrateful people the benefit of the doubt). But that's okay: we ended up not doing a Thanksgiving Tree anyway. But you still have time to comment, because what I plan to do instead is hang the Thankfulness comments on our Christmas tree. After all, Christmas is just as good a time to be thankful. And you don't have to have turkey, either.

-- SJ

Recent Randomizer Remarks

"Toys don't have seeds."

*

"Yay! I have fifty cents! Now we can get married because it isn't Halloween anymore!"

*

Daddy: "They are missionaries who go to Thailand, which is a long way away, and tell boys and girls about Jesus."

The Randomizer: "Yes! And Spider-man helps them!"

-- SJ

Laughing All the Way

"Hey, I have a joke! Refrigerator?"

"I don't know."

"Butter! Hahahahahahaha!"

And that's only one of the many side-splitting comedy routines that Stuart brings to our lives. And to think, he's only three years old!

That's right... Today he's three years old, and amazingly funny. He watched the video of his birthday party this morning, and doubled over with giggles at the part where I was trying to film guests and he kept sticking a plastic horse up into the camera. At church on Sunday, he said all the liturgical responses at all the right times, only he added "-y" on the end of everything: "But deliver us from evily." "Christ has diedy, Christ is riseny, Christ will come againy." "Ameny!"

Almost as soon as Stuart emerged from the newborn-blob stage, he's been the life of the party. Darren and I tried for a year and a half to make Addie laugh, without much success; Stuart was cracking her up by the time he was a year old. He's just a happy boy.

The above "joke," by the way, is something he got from a Bob the Builder episode. I unfortunately didn't hear the original exchange myself, so I have no idea what the joke is supposed to be. Stuart thinks it's genuinely funny in its present form, however. His laughter is contagious, so we always laugh, which confirms his belief that he's the funniest thing walking.

It's been a jolly three years. I can't wait to see what the years ahead hold!

-- SJ (who, obviously, is quite proud of her SJ)

Update on Rosemary

I talked to my sister last week. The situation went from hospitalization to partial bedrest to simply "don't overexert yourself." It seems that the fluid level is on the low end of normal, so everything is stable. Still be in prayer for the baby, however, as there is still a lung mass present, which offers all kinds of unknown complications. Rose and Matt thank you for praying.

-- SJ

A Thanksgiving Request

Dear Friends,

It's time for our occasional tradition of a Thanksgiving tree. Please comment briefly with things that you are thankful for, and then we write them out on pieces of paper, tape them on a branch, and use the resultant tree as a table centerpiece for Thanksgiving. It's been lots of fun the years that we've done it!

We'll post a picture of the tree. Sparseness will reflect badly on your gratitude. (There, anyone feel guilty yet?)

--DJ (with comments from SJ, who is scratching his hair, one of the many reasons he is thankful for her)

An Interesting Book

Last night, I read Arena by Karen Hancock. It's a fairly well done Christian fantasy, and I'd recommend it.

There were several good parts that I really liked. I liked Hancock's metaphor of wading through water (baptism) as Callie becomes a Christian, and I was impressed by Hancock's insistence that Christianity is a war, against both external demons and internal sins. In fact, the Publisher's Weekly review on Amazon cautions against the violence. Hancock also isn't afraid to mention romantic/sexual attraction, but she doesn't overdo it either.

What I didn't like: There were one or two glaring spots of clunky exposition. It appeared that she had to get information across to the reader, so it was dropped into the Guide's briefing (pastor's sermon), which went on for 3 pages. Also, the book's view of the Church is pretty low - almost everything is about individual relationships with the Christ figure.

But the main problem I have with it is that I don't think it's Christian. It's Gnostic.

The heroine is sucked out of the real world into the Arena, and the entire book is about escaping the Arena. The Arena, which stands for the world, is unreal, corrupt, and except for a few areas, under the dominion of demons. The only hope is escape to heaven. The Christ figure appears as a human, but it's questionable whether he is actually human or whether he just appears to be one (the heresy of Docetism).

But the most explicitly Gnostic statement is when the Christ figure says "The real you is not this outward flesh; it's the part that thinks and feels and remembers and decides. Your soul resides in your body as your body resides in your clothes -- that is your true self." And that is about as Gnostic as you can get. It certainly isn't Christianity, which proclaims belief in its most basic creeds in the resurrection of the body - "this outward flesh," as Hancock calls it.

I liked the book, though. It made me think -- and it's rare that fantasy, Christian or otherwise, makes me do that.

--DJ

A Party

We just finished having a birthday party for Stuart, who is turning three on Tuesday. There were seven little boys and a little girl here, besides Stuart and Addie. Ages ranged from 2 to almost 6, and personalities ranged from aggressive to shy. The noise level was rather high for the entire two hours.

We finished off the party by dumping out 4 garbage bags of balloons that Sara and I had blown up last night. This was an instant hit, especially when the older boys found out that they could throw them at me and I would throw them back. The balloon fight soon degenerated into bucking bronco games.

Sara now says that a requirement for little boy parties is to have at least one Daddy there.

--DJ

P.S. Addie and I, the two introverts of the family, will now spend the entire day recuperating and basking in the silence.

Prayer for Rosemary and Felicity

My mom told me today that my sister Rosemary has been hospitalized since yesterday while the doctors are monitoring the amniotic fluid level for her baby (she's seven months along). Normally it wouldn't be an enormous deal for the baby to come early, but little Felicity already has trouble with her lungs so an early birth isn't desirable. They've been giving Rosemary fluid, and she was to have an ultrasound today to see if it's made any difference. I don't know any results yet, but it's very worrisome. Please pray that things will smooth out and Felicity will be all right.

-- SJ

Something a Father Did Right

I had a very conflicted relationship with my stepfather. He didn't understand women (unfortunate, as he lived with three) and I was a hypersensitive teenager. He wanted to spare me the mistakes he made himself, but the way he communicated it made me feel accused of things I never did. He died when I was twenty, and I've spent the subsequent eight years working through memories, understanding him more, and apologizing a lot.

And I've realized that there were some things he did that I took completely for granted. One of those things was the greatest favor he could pay an awkward teenager with a keen sense of failure: he told me I was pretty.

It was a usual part of Sunday mornings when we came downstairs dressed for church. Either, "You look very nice," or, "I get to go to church with the three prettiest ladies in the county." He always forgot that his favorite color was purple, but we knew because he always noticed when we wore it. His compliments weren't very polished: he once told me after I'd gotten a haircut, "Your hair looks nice. Did you brush it?" I pretended to be indignant. But I still remember the compliment.

I've always taken it as a credit to myself that I never went sneaking off to meet boys during those years. Now I realize that it's probably because I knew my father thought I was pretty and funny, so I found the approval I wanted at home. I don't think he realized that, in all his misguided efforts to keep me unhurt and unscathed, he really was doing it right all the time.

Several of my friends are parents now. To you fathers of little girls: whatever else you do, remember to tell her -- often and with great frequency -- that she's pretty.

-- SJ

A Post-Election Haiku

Gray foggy drizzle
Election signs droop, tired
It's November 9.

--DJ

Happy Birthday to Lindsay

It's my sister's birthday today, and I'd like to publicly thank God for her. I remember when she was born; because my mom had some serious health problems during the pregnancy, Lindsay was known as the "Miracle Baby."

Lindsay is a very cheerful person, and she brings joy to everyone who knows her. I'm very proud of her recent participation in drama, and I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of play she'll be in next.

It was due to Lindsay that I got to go to England. She decided that she wanted her senior trip to be something special, so she and I went over and spent two weeks touring London, Scotland, and Wales. That trip is one of the highlights of my life, and it wouldn't have happened without Lindsay deciding to "go for it."

I really enjoyed it when Lindsay lived here in Virginia, although I understand there were some serious questions about our alleged brother-sister relationship raised at the office by people who couldn't understand how in the world two people so very different could possibly be related.

Six and a half years ago, I asked Lindsay to check out Sara Roberts at a party we were going to, as possible wife potential for me. Lindsay approved, showing excellent taste. She also very carefully did not tell me that Mom had already told her that I was interested in Sara, which shows typical Lindsay discretion.

God bless you, Lindsay! You're a great sister, and I'm so glad that God put you in our family!

--DJ (also known as "Darn" to my sister)

A Fact You Could Live A Happy Life Without Knowing

"Fertility drugs given to women today to make them produce more eggs are extracted from the urine of menopausal nuns in Italy."

-- "The Genius of China," Robert Temple (1985)

SJ

The Feast of All Saints

So maybe we were a bit sketchy on the "all saints" part, but the food sure was good. Tuesday night was our Fourth Annual All Saints Day party, and was a success yet again. I can say so, not because Darren and I plan such smashing parties (although they're not half-bad...) but because our guests make it so much fun.

The best part, again, was the food. We assigned everyone a saint, and each person brought food relating to that saint. My apologies if this list gets a little long, but the resulting spread was so entertaining that I've decided just to transcribe the explanations. (Note: Even the single guys did their own cooking.)

Joneses:
Thomas the Apostle (Doubting Thomas).
Food: Chai tea latte, curry (made from scratch, no less, by Darren!), and lemon cookies.
Connection: Thomas traditionally was a missionary to India. And you might be able to relate the cookies to Thomas, but we doubt it.

Grace:
Basil the Great
Food: Smoked prosciuttio, peas, and pasta with basil.
Connection: It's spelled the same.

Katie:
Joan of Arc
Food: Cookies and apples.
Connection: Cookie recipe is an old French one. And the apples... because Joan was in her father's produce area (he owned 30 acres) the first time she received a vision. Thus apples = produce, produce = visions.

John Caleb:
George
Food: Scones
Connection: St. George is the patron saint of England. Scones are a traditional English food. Hence, the connection.

Gabe:
Patrick
Food: Toad-in-the-Hole (he added, If it's bad, it becomes "Frog-in-the-Bog")
Connection: This is a traditional Irish dish -- which was also exported to Australia, suitable for the patron saint of Ireland and Melbourne. This is the Australian version, made with bulk sausage and applesauce.

Leah:
Teresa of Avila
Food: Tuna and rice meatloaf
Connection: Avila is in Spain, and this is a Spanish dish. (Note: Leah's first plan was to ask a missionary friend for some Spanish recipes; the reply was that she had some good ones, but they were all in Spanish.)

Suzanne:
Nicholas
Food: Salmon wraps and turkey wraps
Connection: Patron saint of fishermen and Bishop of Myra, which is in modern-day Turkey.

Charlessa and Jesse:
Anthony(s)
Food: Resurrection rolls
Connections: St. Anthony the Great lived in tombs, made bread for six months at a time. St. Anthony of Padua: a widow gave bread/corn to poor because the saint answered her prayer to resurrect her son.

Peter and Kelly:
Ambrose of Milan
Food: Multiple bags of Milano cookies
Connection: Milan... Milano... get it? The Sauers actually couldn't attend, but Peter obliged us with an emailed (original) history of Ambrose's life. It wasn't exactly educational, but it was a big hit.

Will:
Sir Thomas More
Food: Baked apple crisp and whipped cream
Connections: Sir Thomas More is the patron saint of judges and lawyers. He was born on Milk Street, hence whipped cream. He was imprisoned in the Tower of London, hence wheat/oat crust (bread and water diet). He wrote Utopia, which was mentioned in Ever After, which featured apple throwing, hence apples.

***

Added to the feasting was our traditional trivia game (it changes every year, but there's *always* a trivia game); a lovely sing-through of "For All the Saints"; a responsive reading of an evening prayer; and lots of visiting. This party is one of the highlights of our year. For all our friends who are too distant to join us, just think of the cool Saints' parties we'll have in Heaven!

-- SJ

From Children to Sainthood

A quote from Touchstone magazine, in an article about couples choosing not to have any children:

"Parenthood is not a hobby, but represents one of the most crucial opportunities for the making of saints found in this life."

As I've grown into my calling as a mother, this perspective has brightened the dark corners many times. Sometimes it's great having children, and sometimes I love being Mama. But other times aren't great at all, and often I feel as if I'm doing more harm than good to these trusting little souls. That's when I recall wisdom like the statement above: what I'm doing isn't a hobby, but a calling. I'm not only nuturing two young souls, but my own soul is growing. Between marriage and parenthood, I'm a much richer person, far closer to God, than I ever could have been on my own.

-- SJ

Christian Originals

I was browsing through the CBD catalogue, and a thought struck me. (Ouch!) (Sorry, reverting to my Adventures in Odyssey days.) Page after page of Christian literary and video culture but most of it was -- to use a highly technical term -- copycat culture.

There was a series of books called "Faith Grrlz." The usual array of t-shirts with Christianized commercial logos. Do you like [insert secular entertainment]? Then you'll love [insert Christian copycat]!

I don't object to it to some degree. We all live in the same culture, so the same topics, emphases, and styles attract secular and Christian alike. But after several pages, I wondered, Don't we ever come up with any ideas on our own? Do we always have to let "the world" think of it, and then Christianize it?

(Ironically, no thought in this post is original, since there's been a debate over Christian copyculture for years.)

I came up with two entertainment ideas that I *think* are original:

* Adventures in Odyssey
* Veggie Tales

Anybody have any other suggestions?

-- SJ

(And don't even get me started on the vast array of specialized Bibles.)

This Weekend

* This weekend I got to meet young Jane Focht. She entered (in the arms of her mother, who didn't get nearly as much attention), caught sight of me, and reached out with arms and mouth wide open. I think she even giggled. I took her immediately, of course, and exchanged pleasantries with her. I then remarked to Rose, "You said she was in the grabby stage, right?" Rose had to detach two little strong fists from my hair before I could pass Jane on to her Aunt Leah.

* This weekend I sold my bread mill. Not to Lynn, who by the way called me Friday and said that her computer was down so she didn't have my number on Monday. I sold it instead to the deserving Garber family, so here's hoping it's in as good condition as I think it is.

* This weekend I called my sister-in-law Jill to ask what kind of bread machine she has. She described and recommended hers highly in two ten-minute spurts of conversation, both of which ended when her phone died. If it hadn't been hers, though, it would have been mine, which doesn't have a real zest for life.

* This weekend we bought a bread machine. It bakes bread, desserts, cheesecakes, and even whips cream into butter. Basically all it doesn't do is sing and dance when it's done baking. I've baked two loaves of bread so far (honey oatmeal, Jill). I love baking, especially when the bulk of the work is done by something electrical while I go on with my life.

* This weekend my neighbor, who hasn't attended church in the three years we've lived here, got up Sunday morning and went to a friend's church. She's been having severe anxiety attacks, and while waiting for the medication to take effect (a matter of weeks), I think she's grasping for help. She also said that her pastor friend recommended a book -- "I'm sure you've heard of it: 'The Purpose-Driven Life'?" I did manage to keep from bleating, "Oh, good heavens, who HASN'T heard of that?!" Instead I encouraged her to read it, thinking, "Readable, approachable, safe, and she's seeking. Go ahead!" If she and her husband come to know Christ, I will be dancing with the angels.

* This weekend I had an awful Sunday morning. Darren was speaking at another church for the Gideons, which never happens. Also, I'd planned to attend a Pampered Chef party after church, which also never happens. Naturally they happened on the same day, and I couldn't find anyone to keep the kids. So my party gave way. My pastor's wife keeps reminding me that God honors our sacrifices, even a little one like putting aside our pleasure. But it's still hard to buck up in the midst of disappointment. (This is why there's not a series of books entitled "Sara Dinsmore.") And then when I got ready to leave for church, I misplaced my keys. Not a big deal, except that I had the bulletins and the psalm print-outs for responsive reading. I made it to church fifteen minutes late (in the Jones household, you might as well roll over and die if you're that late). And nobody really minded, since after all church can go on without a bulletin. The rest of the day was better.

* This weekend I worked on a costume for Addie. It consists of a pillowcase with three holes cut in it, and a tablecloth with tucks sewed into it. My mind see-sawed as I worked: "It's Sunday. I wonder if, in my ATI years, this would count as 'working.'" "Oh, it's okay. I'm only sewing." "But I'm making a Halloween costume!" "Yes, but it's one of Jesus' mother Mary, so that's okay." We're dressing Addie up as Mary because her middle name is Marie. She's pretty pleased with it, although if Mary attitude toward babies was anything like Addie's, God must have provided a nanny along with the son. (Stuart's middle name is Michael. Wings and a sword, here we come!)

* This weekend was all too short, as most weekends are. Addie, on her way to bed, announced, "After bedtime it will be Monday!" And that's something to cheer about, or my last name's not Dinsmore!

-- SJ

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to Darren! Here are a few words from eyewitnesses as to what a great man Darren is:

A: Daddy plays Scrabble with us.

S: Daddy plays Go with us.

Note: Mama mentioned, as an example to get them started, that Daddy plays games.

A: Daddy doesn't steal.

A and S: Daddy chases us.

I don't think it can be stated any more clearly that that, folks. Happy 32nd to a wonderful guy!

-- the rest of the Joneses

How Does the Holy Spirit Speak to You?

I want to buy a bread machine, which I'll actually use, so I decided to sell my wheat mill, which I never use. I know, I know, it's a serious repudiation of my homeschooling values to get rid of a wheat mill, and even worse that it's one I've hardly used; but at least I'm able to advertise it as "nearly new condition."

We emailed it around on a homeschool email list. I got one response immediately: Lynn called, a bit brusque but not unfriendly, and said she was interested. She also wanted to "bargain" with me. I was a little puzzled: these mills sell for $200. You can get them online for $160. I was selling mine for $120. Wouldn't that already be defined as a "bargain"? But I cheerfully agreed, and asked her what she had in mind.

Silence. Then, "Well, what comes to me is $75."

I want to get a bread mill with this money, and I'm not limiting my choices because of someone's over-developed sense of thrift. I countered with $100, and, with a sigh, Lynn accepted. We chatted some more, during which she said she was involved in an effort to Save the Farms. "What is that?" I asked. "Well, you know that farms are disappearing all over the world! I'll try to make you a copy of the video 'The Future of Food.'" And that, evidently, was all the explanation I needed. We ended the conversation by arranging that she'd come pick it up the next morning around 8:00.

It wasn't until 7:30 the next morning that I realized -- duh moment here -- she hadn't asked for directions and I hadn't given them. I called her and said I'd drop by her house after I finished some errands. By this time I was having dark premonitions about the viability of this transaction. So I wasn't surprised when she called back shortly before I left the house.

"Hi. This is Lynn." Silence. "About the mill." Silence. "I think I might need to pray about it a little."

"Okay." It was a good price for a mill, but after all, $100 is a lot of money for a homeschooling family.

"Well, see, I'm a little confused! I don't know whether I should buy the mill, or if you should donate it to a church!"

This time the silence was on my end.

"It would be a write-off, of course."

I said something inane, groping for some intelligent response, as she hurried on to explain that as more churches join up with the Save the Farm cause, they would need wheat mills. So could I give her a week to ten days to see what she needed to do?

I recovered and explained that I wanted this money for a bread machine (notwithstanding her offer that I could borrow hers anytime I wanted), and I didn't really want to wait a week if I didn't have to. Yes, yes, she understood completely. Perhaps I could give her till Monday? "Yes, Monday is fine. And also -- unless the Lord indicates otherwise to me, I am not interested in donating this mill. I want to sell it."

So now it's Monday, and I haven't heard from Lynn. I'm thinking perhaps I've proved lackluster in my support of the universal cause of Save the Farms. And even worse, I appear unresponsive to the leading of the Holy Spirit. I wonder, if I do talk to Lynn again, if the Spirit will speak through me for her direction. I'm not sure what He'll say, but I think it will be something to edify and instruct her, possibly:

"Why don't YOU buy the mill and YOU donate it to the church? After all, it's a write-off."

-- SJ

A Movie List

I don't really watch a lot of movies. I prefer to decide ahead of time whether I'll like it, and then based on that judgment I decide whether to see it or not. It saves the effort of individual evaluations. Since throwing another person into my movie-watching equation, however, I've seen more than I would otherwise. The same goes for Darren, and sometimes we've been surprised. So we made a list.

A movie list is very revealing. You can learn a lot about a person by the movies he/she likes or dislikes. In this case, I doubt our list will reveal anything very astonishing to our circle of friends.


Movies I Thought I Wouldn't Like (But Was Wrong):

Sara:
Spider-man
X-Men
Master and Commander
Shrek II (and I really ought to go back and give #1 another try)
Charlie's Angels
Ocean's 11

Darren:
A Room With a View
Clueless
Bladerunner

Movies I Thought I Would Like (But Was Wrong):

Sara:
Pirates of the Caribbean
Shrek I
Charlie's Angels II
Evita (I've tried twice, okay?!)

Darren:
Van Helsing
Mr. & Mrs. Smith
Charlie's Angels II
Batman and Robin
The Avengers

Movies We're Always Glad to See:
Princess Bride
A Room With A View (S)
Singin' In The Rain (S)
the Toy Storys
Ladyhawke (D)
Bend It Like Beckham
X-Men (D)
LOTR (D)
Pride & Prejudice (the 6-hour one) (S)
The original Avengers series, which isn't a movie but cool anyway

The Randomizer Strikes Again

Addie had finished her bath and was examining her raisin-like fingers. I heard her murmur,

"The power of God!"

Then she added,

"The power of wrinkled fingers!"

The Randomizer has spoken.

-- SJ

Cosmic Praise

I recently bought Sara a new Steve Green CD, "The Mission," which is one of my favorite albums of his. It was an album that Evan and I owned when we were in high school, and there is a song on there that I have loved for years.

It's called "Symphony of Praise." When I told Sara as we were listening, "This is my favorite song on the CD," her response was, "No kidding." I tend to be fairly predictable in my delight of what I call "cosmic praise" songs and psalms.

From "Symphony of Praise:"

The composer and conductor of the universe
Steps before the orchestra of God
Creation lifts their finely crafted instruments
As all in heaven wildly applaudThe seasons well rehearsed begin with His downbeat
And on his cue the sun trumpets the dawn
The whirling winds swell in a mighty crescendo
With each commanding sweep of His baton
The oceans pound the shore in march to His cadence
The galaxies all revolve in cosmic rhyme
The fall of raindrops all in wild syncopation
As lightning strikes and thunder claps in time.
Chorus: The symphony of praise
Conducted by the Ancient of Days
May each creation great or small
Lift their voices one and all
In the symphony of praise
Heaven waits in hushed anticipation
The great I AM then turns to mortal men
A massive chorus robed in spotless garments
Offer up their song of praise to Him
The glories of God explode in full orchestration
As all creation joins the thunderous refrain
"Worthy, Worthy, WORTHY IS THE LAMB THAT WAS SLAIN."

For similar reasons, my favorite Psalm is 148:

Alleluia! Praise Yahweh from the heavens, praise him in the heights.
Praise him, all his angels, praise him, all his host!
Praise him, sun and moon, praise him, all shining stars,
praise him, highest heavens, praise him, waters above the heavens.
Let them praise the name of Yahweh at whose command they were made;
he established them for ever and ever by an unchanging decree.
Praise Yahweh from the earth, sea monsters and all the depths,
fire and hail, snow and mist, storm winds that obey his word,
mountains and every hill, orchards and every cedar,
wild animals and all cattle, reptiles and winged birds,
kings of the earth and all nations, princes and all judges on earth,
young men and girls, old people and children together.
Let them praise the name of Yahweh, for his name alone is sublime, his splendour transcends earth and heaven.
For he heightens the strength of his people, to the praise of all his faithful, the children of Israel, the people close to him.

I like Madeleine L'Engle's book "A Swiftly Tilting Planet," the third in the Time Quartet, for the same reason. The poem that runs through the whole book recognizes that creation has a part to play in the cosmic battle:

In this fateful hour
All Heaven with its power
The sun with its brightness
The snow with its whiteness
The fire with all the strength it hath
The lightning with its rapid wrath
The winds with their swiftness
The sea with its deepness
The rocks with their steepness
The earth with its starkness
All these I place
By God's almighty help and grace
Between myself and the powers of darkness.

If this inspires you the same way it does me, let me also suggest Job 38-41, where God demonstrates His mastery over all of nature, from the frost to the ostrich to the Chaos Monster Leviathan itself.

Let all creation praise Him!

--DJ

30 Things We Love About Marriage

I have a friend whose view of marriage is (somewhat justifiably) jaded. She doesn't credit any "happily married" advice from anyone who has been married less than five years. Five years, she figures, puts a couple beyond the newlywed stage into real life. If you're still goopy and blissful after five years (and, even better, with a few kids), then maybe you have something to say.

So I'm proud to cross that threshold: today is our fifth anniversary. Of course, as golden as this accomplishment is, it pales in comparison to Darren's parents, who have been married for 32 years and still play games with each other in the evenings. And even that fades away in the face of Darren's grandparents, who have been married for 62 years and still tug over the blanket at night. Still, we can say with enthusiasm, "Married five years and still as happy as newlyweds!"

In honor of our anniversary, we've listed thirty things we love about marriage. A list of five is no fun (a disadvantage of younger marriages), and since our anniversary is on the thirtieth, so we'll do thirty. See the logic? See? See? And I will point out that it's obvious we aren't newlyweds anymore: we aren't doing "300 Things We Love About Marriage."

As follows, in no particular order:

1. A warm body on cold nights (life according to Darren and Herriot)
2. Someone to listen to rants.
3. Someone not to get bored listening to rants.
4. Someone to kiss goodbye every morning.
5. Someone to kiss hello every evening.
6. An interesting companion who is always interested in being with you.
7. Someone to take over kid duties.
8. Sex, of course.
9. Someone to tell you when you're being unkind, whiney, or irrational.
10. Someone to understand why you're being any of the above, and refrain from using it as a teaching moment.
11. Someone to go driving with, for the fun of it.
12. Someone to laugh at your jokes, wit, and quips.
13. Someone to smile at the same joke, wit, or quip the twelfth time you tell it.
14. Someone who likes hearing about your childhood reminiscences.
15. Someone to discuss theology with, usually in bed before you fall asleep, using terms you can understand.
16. Someone who thinks your opinions are important, interesting, and occasionally brilliant.
17. Someone to brighten your day when you're discouraged.
18. Someone whose day you can brighten.
19. Someone who is as goofy over your kids as you are.
20. Someone who waits patiently for you to add up all the dots on your dice in Yahtzee.
21. Someone to tell you, "You're tired. Do you need to go out by yourself tonight?"
22. Someone to pray for you intimately, and someone to pray for the same way.
23. Getting to know someone even better than you know your family, when a few years ago you didn't know he/she existed!
24. Someone to (lovingly) pry open your turtle shell and dig out issues that need to be discussed.
25. Someone to discuss new and interesting books with. At length.
26. Someone to share your quirky hobbies and interests, or at least think they're endearing.
27. Someone to help with cooking, house, budget, kids, life in general.
28. Someone to take care of you, especially when you're sick.
29. Someone who worries about the same thing you do, instead of giving you a blank stare.
30. Someone to love, and who loves you just as much.

-- SJ and DJ

What Churches Should Do

This article from our local paper is a good example of Christ's love in action.

For about a year, I've frequently passed a church (Baptist) on the way home that is a perfect poster child for Luke 14:28-30. Apparently, the church decided it had more money than it actually did and began a major expansion, but then ran out. It's been sitting half-finished, with window holes left open, no doors, and not even any siding on the addition.

Now a new church (Pentecostal) is moving in, with partial funding from yet a third church (Bible). They've invited the old congregation to feel free to worship with them.

I like this. Churches working together, an eyesore getting fixed up...it's good.

--DJ

Prayers for Felicity

My sister Rosemary is pregnant with her second child, a girl they're calling Felicity Marie. Recent ultrasounds found something wrong with Felicity's lungs: it isn't a tumor or cyst, but actual lung tissue that seems to be growing beyond what it should. Along with affecting the lungs, the growth puts a strain on the baby's heart. Rose isn't sure what the prognosis is. Right now they just want to see that mass shrink. Please pray for little Felicity, for Rose and Matt, and the doctors.

This news came in the same week that I, bizarrely enough, suffered a miscarriage without knowing I was pregnant in the first place. I'm recovering just fine. In fact, except for one truly miserable night and morning, I hardly feel as if anything happened, which makes it all a bit surreal. And I look back on the experience feeling encouraged: first of all, that I was able to bear it with just God for company, as Darren was gone that night; and secondly, that I at least did get pregnant, a possibility that's been in doubt for two and a half years now.

I'll post updates about Felicity as I hear them. Rose is amazing -- she's distressed by the news, but she never wastes extra energy on fretting, just keeps going cheerfully with nineteen-month-old Camie. She (and all the family) appreciates your prayers.

-- SJ

Randomness

S: I'm trying to think of something to post.
D: 'The Joys of Scrapbooking.'
S (well aware of D's interest in this hobby): The joys of scrapbooking?
D: Well, it would be a short one.

Blogblock persists. I've written four separate beginnings, all dealing with four separate subjects, and erased them all. But it doesn't bother me much: Darren stayed home today for our anniversary (which isn't till next week, but this weekend was the only free weekend for a month in both directions), and tonight we're getting a babysitter and heading out to dinner. We're eating at an historical inn nearby. They offer Colonial-type foods. At least, I think that's what the ad meant when it proclaimed, "Authentic food!"

Our babysitter's name is Kahri (so spelled to ensure that it is pronounced "car-ee"). Apparently I'm the only one who thinks it's funny that we have a babysitter named Kahri. Remember "The Incredibles"? Remember the eager junior-high babysitter who gets stuck with Jack-Jack? Her name is Kari (car-ee). I think it's hilarious. Nobody else remembers the babysitter's name. That's not typical or anything.

My neighbor passes on her Reader's Digest to us when she's done. This month their feature article is all about how Men Are Emotional. How men really do have complex feelings. I gave up halfway through: it's the flip side of the worn-out tune "Women Like Sex As Much As Men Do." I wonder, is it really this revolutionary to discover that we're all human?

My Bible is a four-translation parallel text -- KJV, NIV, New Living, and NASV. I usually read the New American, but I like New Living because of its readability. It failed me yesterday, however. I was reading Proverbs 31 (which I try valiantly not to react to, thanks to my younger Virtuous Woman days), and got to the verse about how she "makes coverings for herself." NLT translated it, "She quilts her own bedspreads." Okay. Right. Off to get my quilting frame, presto.

I need to wrap all this up into a conclusion so I can call it a coherent blog post. Ahem: I intend to enjoy my day with my husband and children, and eat authentic food while Kahri (giggle) keeps my kids. And also, as we celebrate our anniversary, we'll probably discover how Darren is emotional and how I... well, never mind. But I do know that factory-quilted bedspreads don't hinder my excellent wifehood in any way.

-- SJ

A sad article

Touchstone Magazine's blog, Mere Comments, has a good post about a strange facet of the ecumenical movement at the abortion clinic. Rather sad. May God have mercy on those who are oppressed and heavy laden.

--DJ

Miscellany

If Sara can do "Mundania," I think I'll call mine "Miscellany."

* I've been reading Daniel the last few days. As usual, the first 6 chapters are fascinating, but the second half of the book just confuses me. A question for you all: it appears clear to me that the four kingdoms referenced in ch. 2 and ch. 7 are the same four. It also seems clear that the "little horn" in ch. 7 and ch. 8 are the same person - Antiochus Epiphanes. Problem: this means that the four kingdoms are Babylon, Media, Persia, Greece. I grew up with a good standard dispensational viewpoint that the kingdoms were Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece, and Rome. Anyone have any insight on this?

* A new author named Brian Sanderson has just put out a book called "Elantris." I got it on the strength of Orson Scott Card's high recommendation, but when I picked up the book at the library and read the author bio (yes, I'm weird, I usually do that before reading the book. I also read any dedication, preliminary notes, etc. Sara laughs at me, as she gaily dives into chapter 1 (if not chapter 2, having decided that chapter 1 is useless.)) I saw that the author was a professor at Brigham Young University, and knowing that Card is a Mormon, I groaned. I thought Card was just doing a fellow religionist a favor. I was wrong. The book was excellent - a great mystery/fantasy, with lots of action, well-developed characters, a major focus on the importance of religion, and very clean (which is how I usually describe books and movies that don't have sex in them - all too few nowadays, especially in the fantasy genre). I'd highly recommend it, especially since it's a stand-alone, rather than the first in a trilogy (which nowadays have a way of stretching out past 3 books - see, e.g., Robert Jordan).

* Google has a new feature in beta testing that allows you to search blogs. If you go to their homepage and click on "More," then click on the "Blogs" button, you can type in any search term and blogs that fit that description will appear. I've mixed feelings - it will make blogging much more addictive, I think, since now they're searchable. But I'm really not sure that I want my blog to be visited by random spammers. We'll see how it works.

Off to wake up wife and kids now.

--DJ

Mundania IV

I haven't had anything to blog about for the past several days, but in the interests of keeping reader interest, here is a post to tide you over until my blogblock is gone.

* Honey and peanut-butter sandwiches are great pick-me-ups in the middle of the afternoon.

* We got new neighbors, only it's taken them forever to actually move into their house. I and my friend across the street refer to them as "the Phantom Neighbors." But we think they have young kids, so we're eager to make their acquaintance.

* I split an infinitive in the previous paragraph.

* Darren arranged with a neighbor to attend a monthly men's gathering. I said, "So this is like a support group for men, right? You sit and share your struggles, give encouragement, cry and laugh?" Pause. "Where are the affirmative mm-hmms?" He replied, "I'm waiting for you to suggest something interesting." I think they just sit around and talk.

* As Lindsay blogged, she was nice to a car rental guy and got upgraded from an $18/day economy car to a brand new Sebring convertible, at no extra charge. Nothing like having blond hair, a dazzling smile, and (in Lindsay's own words) psycho-blue eyes. In case there are any other ordinary, brown-haired, hazel-eyed girls wondering... no, life isn't fair.

* I am a night person, and I do all right in late morning. But I hate afternoons. About two years ago, I detected a pattern: every day around 3:30 when I was changing yet another diaper, I'd wail that I wanted a new job and didn't like this one anymore. Eventually I figured out that life got better if I held on till evening. Also I ate honey and peanut butter.

-- SJ

A Retro Teen Treasury

Nothing like a glut of Jones posts to brighten your day. (Side note: Did you know that if you try to say "slew" and "glut" at the same time, you come out with "slut," which doesn't communicate the right message at all?)

I just finished a book I purloined from my sister-in-law's bookshelf when we were up in Nova Scotia. It's a collection of teen magazine stories. Since the copyright date is 1960, the stories serve up lots of retro culture -- which, in a lot of cases, is more interesting that the story itself.

The names, for starters. Hal, Betty, Dick, Fran, Ed. With all due apology to the older generation, I kept thinking, "Shouldn't you be more concerned with your house mortgage and retirement than who is going to the Senior Prom?" Of course, our names -- Christy, Melissa, Jennifer, Jason, Brian, Brandon -- are going to sound just as stale to Addie's generation. I guess it will serve me right, but the fact remains that it's not easy to get involved in the teen romance troubles of Nancy and Larry.

The prices, for seconds. Henrietta, a spoiled rich girl, is trying to wheedle a fancy new dress out of her mother. "It's only about twelve dollars." Her mother replied frostily, "It's fourteen ninety-eight." And the twenty-first-century reader is screaming, "Fourteen ninety-eight for a new dress! Go get it NOW, for heaven's sake!" Later, Henrietta mentions casually to her good-looking boyfriend that they'll have to walk because Mother's car is in the shop; her voice left no doubt that they were a "two-car family." Wow, two cars. They probably had a T.V., too.

In a soda shop -- in 1960s teen land, there's always a soda shop to gather at -- a girl orders "just a Coke" because all she has is four cents. A sympathetic friend tosses in another penny for her. I mentioned this to my friend Nina, who remarked that she could get out her loose change and buy a whole pack of Cokes at that price. Speaking of Cokes, that's all these people order. "Just a Coke." "Coke with lemon." "Cherry Coke." "Pineapple Coke." (I actually don't remember if there was a pineapple Coke, but I wouldn't be surprised.

This is a world, obviously idealized, where a popular girl goes out with a different guy every week, although of course never to do anything more than kiss, and I guess that's only if they're "steady." Everyone has two parents, usually an annoying kid brother or sister, and lives close enough to school to walk.

But despite the vast difference in their world and mine, the stories are the same. All teenage girls think they're hopelessly plain, and always hope that they can catch the eye of the "dreamboat." (Even if you're a courtship girl... admiration is still nice, right?) We always wished our lives turned out like the stories do: that just by being ourselves, the guys realize what gems we are, and in the last two lines asks haltingly for a date next Saturday.

It didn't happen to me until I was twenty-two, and he didn't exactly stumble over his words. Which is remarkable, because he wasn't exactly asking for a date next Saturday. But when I read these stories, I get caught up in my teenage-hood again despite myself. I find myself cheering on the plain girl at the end (even if her name is Nancy). And also wish I could buy that fancy dress for under fifteen dollars.

-- SJ

Sharper than a two-edged sword

Although I love the Bible, there are some parts of it that I am less fond of. For example, Psalm 119. It reminds me of the efforts of a teenage boy who has just been taught about the acrostic form and, in typical exuberant youth, decides to make an acrostic to beat all acrostics. I tend to think that many of the verses are forced, rather than free-flowing and creative. I am far more fond of Job or the latter parts of Isaiah.

And then God, in His usual manner of pricking my stuck up balloon of intellect, uses His Word to meet me exactly where I need Him. And He uses Psalm 119. Twice in the last two weeks, a verse from that Psalm has been God's clear direction and comfort in my life.

It is a good reminder that not one of His words falls to the ground - although I must confess, I'm still skeptical about the spiritual value of Numbers 7.

--DJ

The Randomizer

We don't always know what Addie is talking about.

Her mind makes strange connections, and she in turn makes strange statements. When we ask to her clarify herself, she just repeats what she already said. It sounds very Oracle-like: "It is too close to drive there!" "What is too close to drive there?" "It is too close to drive there!" You can almost hear a resonant, disembodied voice adding, "I have spoken. You must seek the answer for yourself." We call her The Randomizer.

Today she was playing in Black Boar (thanks again, Derrick), and crawled out announcing, "The circus is here!"

Darren asked, "Are you a clown?"
"No."
"Are you an elephant?"
"No."
"Are you a trapeze artist?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"

She threw her hands wide. "I'm the King of Israel!"

The Randomizer has spoken. Seek the answer for yourself.

The Best of the South

My brother Neil -- whose computer is up and running thanks to a generator and far-above-rubies gasoline -- sent me this link about our town. Neil himself is a volunteer fire-fighter (said he sort of felt he should join, out of gratitude, after he set his grass on fire a couple of times). As soon as the winds died down Monday he was out with the department, clearing trees off the roads. Lots of neighbors grabbed their chainsaws and pitched in, too.

That's what this articleis about: how the town can't wait for FEMA to get aid to them, what with the devastation on the Coast, so they're turning out and starting cleanup themselves.

Lucedale is a small Southern town but it's not Mitford. It's a little run-down and the people aren't always gracious and mannerly. Or even very loveable. But you'll find all the best of Southern stereotype there, and I'm glad to say it comes through during times like this.

News At Last

My sister called this morning. Her family, and my mom, are staying with relatives for now. Not because they have nowhere to live, but because Mississippi might not have power for another month and pregnant Rosemary wasn't up to braving August without air conditioning. :)

Trees down, a barn damaged, half a sign blown away, and some tin off a roof: that's basically the damage to my family's holdings, including my mom's restaurant. Even the town itself escaped most of the storm. Considering what the counties directly south and east of George County suffered (think: Pascagoula, Biloxi, Gulfport... all those towns that aren't really there anymore), I think prayers were pretty powerful this week.

Thanks so much for all your concern: I've lost count of the inquiries after my family. And thank you for all your prayers.

-- SJ

Or how about double everything? (Stuart, 3 months) 

Double chins aren't so bad, Rose. (Stuart, age 3 months) 

Hurricane Update

I haven't talked to my family since Monday, when Rosemary called to say that at least two households in the clan are fine. They don't have power or phone down there right now (I guess it's a minor miracle that Rose's cell phone worked). Since I haven't heard anything else, I'm assuming the rest of my family is fine, too. No news yet about property damage, or indeed about anyone else I know down there. I guess news will trickle in eventually.

Because Lucedale is inland, unlike Mobile, Biloxi, or Gulfport, my little hometown probably didn't get hit as badly. That, and lots of prayers from friends!

I hope to hear more soon. Thanks so much for all of y'all's concern.

-- SJ

In the Path of Katrina

Generally Mississippi isn't a bad place to live, but hurricane season can get on your nerves. Katrina is Category 5 (165 mph winds), and predicted to hit anywhere from Gulfport to New Orleans. My tiny little hometown is right in the middle. It's supposed to roar in early tomorrow, so please pray for my family.

-- SJ

Vindication

Recently we were chatting with Wayne, whose daughter often babysits for us. He mentioned that while Sarah was playing The Sims, she decided to create and play the Joneses. Two adults, two children, how hard could it be?

After a week, Sarah used a cheat code to get more money, and hired a maid. She said she couldn't handle it.

-- SJ

My Gift, Your Gift

Darren read somewhere (ha, there's an unsurprising start to a post) about what the author called "gift projection." It's one of those handy little terms that encapsulates a concept. As created beings we're all endowed with different talents, and as re-created Christians we're given spiritual gifts for the good of the church. And, then, as self-centered fallen humans we expect everyone else to be just like us. That's gift-projection.

Someone with the gift of evangelism may expect everyone to be able to meet, witness, and add to the Kingdom of God with remarkable success. "It's not like I do anything special. I just witness. You can, too!" Someone with the gift of hospitality may expect everyone to enjoy having vast numbers of strangers in their homes. "The more people we have in our house, the more God blesses us! Why don't you do it every Sunday, too?" Someone who can teach, insists that teaching is enjoyable once you get into it. Someone who sets up and runs events can't see that she's doing anything special, just following her list; can't you take it over next month? And so on.

I'm not saying (here goes the usual disclaimer) that some of us don't have to evangelize, extend hospitality, teach, help with ministries and events, etc. just because we weren't given those gifts. It's just that we're a whole lot better at certain things. Often, since we so enjoy those activities, we don't understand how it can be draining to someone else without our gifting.

Of course I'm sensitive about being projected upon: three of the four examples above are definitely not my areas, and at times I've felt pressured to conform to them. But since I haven't exactly pinpointed my gifts, I'm probably even worse about projection.

I think it's an interesting concept, and one I try to keep in mind. Even on a human level, what I find energizing, enthusing, and enjoyable is not necessarily a universal pleasure. (Anybody for writing a story using seven words related only by their spelling? That was my activity of choice in third grade.) The Church, and the world in general, would be a better place if humans would just let each other be what they are uniquely designed to be. And also if everyone could learn to write well.

-- SJ

Princess and Prince: The Division of the Kingdom

Yesterday we played Princess and Prince.

"Oh, Princess Addie, I'm the queen, and I'm very sick. Can you go into the forest and find a special flower that will make me feel better?"

Off scampers Princess Addie. (You can tell she's the princess because she's wearing a wimple and cloak, which doubles as a baby's hooded "Dalmatians" towel). She returns clutching a single, delicate, completely invisible flower. The queen sniffs it and immediately revives. Princess Addie glows.

Then the queen turns to Prince Stuart. "There's a big, fat, mean, ugly troll outside and it wants to gobble us up!" (The queen has seen the same "Three Billy Goats Gruff" video that Prince Stuart has.) "Can you go get it?"

Prince Stuart brightens and sets off on his quest. (You can tell he's the prince because he carries a noble blade, which many mistake for a plastic tennis racket.) "I GOT it!" he shouts. Then he adds, "I will put it in the cage."

The quests pile on fast and thick. Princess Addie brings the queen some water, finds a gold ring, and locates the queen's lost baby in the woods. (The queen asks her to put the baby in its cradle. Princess Addie does, then says, "And put the top down and lock it." And you thought Ezzo was strict.) Prince Stuart captures a mean dragon, a mean giant, a mean snake, and another mean troll. He puts them all in his cage. Prince Stuart evidently is of a new breed of humane knights.

Then the queen, not wanting to restrict activities based on gender -- seeing as the queen herself, as a young princess, defended her entire kingdom from imaginary enemies on a regular basis -- says to Princess Addie, "Can you help Prince Stuart fight off another big mean snake?"

Instantly Princess Addie transforms into a wilting damsel. "No! I can't! Prince Stuart will do it!" Which he does. Princess Addie resists all other suggestions that she join in the defense of the kingdom. However, upon being told that some baby kittens are threatened by another big mean fat ugly troll (it's a bad day for the kingdom), rushes immediately to their rescue.

The queen thinks the division of labor between the princess and prince is very funny, and really does prefer her daughter rescue kittens and her son fight trolls. Just as long as Princess Addie learns some basic carriage maintenance, and Prince Stuart can cook his own hearty stew over the open fire, the royal parents will be happy.

-- SJ

Subtle Signs of Virtue

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I glanced over and saw Darren reading a magazine. I laughed, and he looked at me questioningly.

"It's just that most men reading a magazine like this --" I took the magazine and held it sideways, open at the middle, as he had been doing -- "usually aren't reading recipes out of Taste of Home."

It reminded me how fervently grateful I am for a man who protects and upholds his purity. And also it gave us a great laugh before bed.

-- SJ

Guilt to Go

As an angst-filled teenager, I thought I was familiar with guilt. Which is a lot like saying that I knew what labor pains felt like. Now that I'm a mother, I *specialize* in guilt.

Guilt over Addie's infection and hospitalization when she was seven months old. Guilt that she didn't talk till she was two and a half. Guilt that Stuart coughs until he throws up. Guilt that they are such enthusastic video-watchers.

But now I've discovered a new and unexpected source of mother-guilt. For the past couple of weeks I've realized that I've been sitting around while my kids *play all by themselves.*

Understand my dilemma here. Of course it's good that they entertain themselves. But am I being Interactive if I don't get down on the floor with them and make the plastic eggs talk, too? I mean, honestly... I've FINISHED TWO BOOKS IN THE LAST WEEK! Obviously I can't be doing it right if I have time for myself, right?

Seriously, part of me has to watch out that I don't push them away for my own convenience, because that is definitely one way my sin nature expresses itself. But mostly I'm able to laugh at myself... after I put aside the inspiring articles in parenting magazines for a while. When I'm able to look beyond myself, I realize how fun it is to watch Stuart line up his plastic egg halves and make them talk, or observe Addie in her daily marathon between the front door and the couch (she runs from the door to the couch, then the couch to the door, then the door to the couch...)

And then I wonder if it's normal for Addie to run marathons through the living room, or for Stuart to play for half an hour with eggs... And then I put down my book and we go outside. It's hard to maintain mother-guilt when you're looking at beetles together.

-- SJ

If...

If you can open your eyes in the morning, stretch, and break into an on-the-spot composed song about stars in the heavens, you're either in love or four years old.

-- SJ

How to Build a Church in One Day

Our tiny little mission church, already scandalously blessed to have two musicians among our three core families, has found a meeting place to rent. Not only that, but the landlady approved all kinds of construction to convert it from Former Video Store to House of God.

Our pastor, Fr. Tim, is not a man who makes do with what he has. Instead, he figures out what he wants and makes it happen. Early this morning, several people from a couple of other churches, including a very accomplished carpenter/plumber/all-around useful person, arrived at our potential church and set to work. They tore out some walls, built two new ones, built a platform, painted walls and trim, and kept a construction-model CD player blaring over the saws, nail guns, and bustle. Darren worked till 4, then took the kids and let me go help out. When I left at 8, they still had ceilings to fix, a room to panel, and the platform to carpet. But it looked like a sanctuary, because of the enormous dark wooden cross which dominates the back wall.

It is an enormous blessing not only to have our very own building for worship -- most churches in our area meet in community halls and schools -- but to have it converted for worship in just a day. Up till now, we've been very grateful that God led us to the church we needed so much. Now, going to church is about to become that much more exciting!

-- SJ

O, Canada

We've just returned from the Annual Jones Gathering, an exclusive event for only twelve of the worldwide Jones population. Last year we congregated in Maine, but this year we made the full pilgrimage up to Nova Scotia. It was a good week of beaches, ice cream, Prince Edward Island, great meals, and a large front yard swarming with grandkids (still five at last count; this year was my and Darren's turn to produce, but we missed our cue).

I'm not a beach person: I burn too easily and I don't like sand pervading every area of my life. But did I ever love the Nova Scotia beach! The sand is dark red. The water is cold but very clear, and the ocean floor is rocky. Lindsay and I conducted meticulous jellyfish research, also. ("It's dead, right? Can it sting you if it's dead?" "I don't think so. Here's a shell. Pick it up." "This is wicked cool! It can't sting if it's dead, right?" "I don't think so...")

It was particularly fun to watch the kids together this year. Addie and Chloe (4 and 2) are both agile and independent, while Jed and Stuart (5 and 2) are loud and energetic. Tucker (1) is simply adorable; every so often, one of the older kids would get down and crawl around with Tucker and giggle hysterically. Meanwhile, Stuart thought Jed was the greatest thing to come along since Daddy.

We got home Sunday after a stopover at the New England Joneses' house. The most excitement there was that their cat Emily had a kitten (yes, one kitten) up in the underside flap of the master bed (yes, inside the bed). At one point, Jill walked into the room to find that Chloe and Stuart had dragged out both the cat and the kitten, and was playing with them on the bed. As Stuart reported to me, the kitten was white and black, had pink toes, and whined.

Yesterday was our recovery day, and this morning we return to real life. To be cliched about it, it's very good to be home.

-- SJ

Respectfully Submitted

I've been reflecting on the concept of Submission lately. (Darren told me I could come out of my room when I was ready to obey.) The way that I learned "Scriptural submission" works -- husband rules the home, wife defers to husband, husband must heed his wife's cautions but wife can't rule husband -- isn't the way it came about when I married my dearest friend and (dare I say it?) equal. Darren and I practice much more a "mutual submission," where each of us has the right to speak into the life of the other.

But after I'd pondered this subject for a while, and written up a long post extolling the good and enlightened way that we operate, I realized that some of it was due to our generational age, and much of the rest due to our personalities. So much for changing the world. At least we're happy.

-- SJ

Evolutionary Marvels

"A caterpillar turns into a raccoon, and then it turns into a butterfly."

-- AJ (transcription by SJ)

Accented Addie

While Darren and I planned to go to Europe our first year of marriage, we had a baby instead. At the time I suggested that if Baby was a boy, we could name him Scotland Tripp.

Baby turned out to be Adelaide, and naturally is much more worthwhile than a trip to England and Scotland. (Not to say that I don't still regret losing that chance; it's just that now I'd like to have Addie and take my trip too.) Considering the plans her existence interrupted, her new little habit is particularly funny.

It must be because she's watched "Mary Poppins" and "Winnie-the-Pooh" so much, but she's started tweaking some of her words with a really terrible British accent. "Oh, bothah! Stuart doesn't want to do it eithah! I'll do it latah!"

It's almost like living with our European desires in human form.

-- SJ

A Fairy-Tale Marriage

The other day I found a quarter stuck to the back of Darren's leg (maybe it's needless to mention that one of our economy measures is to keep the AC thermostat a bit high?). "Well," I remarked, "if you don't have gold pieces falling out of your mouth, I guess this is the next best thing." He said I shouldn't blog this, but I hated for such a great quip to go unheralded.

-- SJ

Sleeping Switches

When Darren doesn't come home before I go to bed, I can't sleep. I stay mostly awake until he comes in, whether it be 10:00, 2:00, or not at all.

When I'm out for the evening -- even if it's just in the kitchen scrapbooking with friends -- you'd expect that Mr. Six Hours of Sleep would be up till all hours. Ha. 10:40 p.m., I walk into the dark room to find a husband sprawled on the bed, sound asleep. He hardly can rouse himself awake long enough to ask, "Did you have fun?" before drifting off again.

He says it's because he gets bored without me around. Guess I've been having pretty wild times by myself without even realizing it. Life is unfair.

-- SJ

A Little Help?

According to this article, short term mission trips are not worth it. The study summarized in the article finds no significant change in churches or individuals that participate:

"Praises and critiques of the trend tend to be proportionately extreme, touting STMs either as miraculous recruiters of long-term missionaries or insidious sowers of third-world dependency...both sides are off the mark."

The study found that STMs may give a short-term rush, but in the long run, they make no difference.

I've never been on a short term mission. For those of you who have, did you think it was worth it? Specifically:

--Did you find yourself giving more (time or money) to missions 2-3 years after you returned?

--Did you have any contact with friends you made in the foreign country 2-3 years after the STM?

--Do you believe that the money you spent was used more effectively by you going on an STM than if your church had simply sent the money to the mission site?

I just don't have any experience with this, and I'd love to get some feedback, because the study in the article was quite discouraging.

Thanks.

--DJ

In the Path of Dennis

Once again it's time for our Seasonal Prayer Request: the season being Hurricane, and the request being for my family. Hurricane Dennis, a pretty nasty storm, is expected to make landfall pretty much on top of my hometown late tonight (Sunday). Please pray for my family's safety.

-- SJ

Conversation between Husband and Wife

10:00 p.m.

W: I missed you today. It was so good to see you walk in the door. You might have noticed.
H: Yes, there was a definite Star Trek effect.
W: ?
H: You know, Klingon.

H got poked hard in the ribs for such a horrible pun.

--DJ

SHOCKING BIRTH-SWITCH SCANDAL!!

Darren and Sara Jones would have sworn they knew their own child. "She's our daughter. You'd have think we'd have realized," said Sara, sitting on their beige-striped sofa and wiping her eyes. "Now we just have to live with it."

Their "daughter," Adelaide, plays nearby. Glancing up at Sara, she remarks cheerfully, "Don't worry, Mama. I'm a big girl now. I'm four years old."

Sara valiantly holds back tears as she replies, "Yes, honey, I know. It's July 6."

The Joneses are struggling with an intensely painful realization: that someone, somewhere, has switched their little baby with a self-proclaimed "big girl." It took them some time to see all the subtle indications, and put it all together. "Now we're having to adjust," says Sara.

Darren, phoning from his office at Home School Legal Defense Association, agrees. "We're certain it was only yesterday she was born. Or maybe a couple of weeks ago. No, wait, she was at least seventeen months old when Stuart was born... but still, that's a baby. And now we're supposed to believe this four-year-old, this little girl, is ours?"

Blissfully unaware of her "parents'" dilemma, Addie happily celebrates her birthday with presents, multiple renditions of "Happy Birthday," and plans for a party this weekend complete with a dragon-shaped cake. "Daddy tells me dragon stories," she explains.

Darren admits, "I did tell Addie dragon stories. But that was the little Addie, the toddler." No one knows where their baby has gone.

As Sara watches the light-haired, agile little girl -- whose eye color does happen to be the same "creek-color" as Sara's -- she seems to take a new courage. Addie runs over and climbs into Sara's lap. "Blow in my ear and I will blow in yours! Because it's my birthday and I am four years old. Because now I will be almost five years old."

As Sara cuddles the long body that no longer fits in her lap, she suddenly smiles. "I'm remembering my little baby Addie," she remarks. "She was pretty cute... but you know, she didn't do a whole lot." She leans down and blows into the four-year-old's ear. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I'm going to miss that baby all that much while this little girl is here."

-- SJ

Life According To...

Theology according to Addie:
"If you're selfish, that's sin, and sin is when it's wrong. And unsin is when you're happy."

***

Witty retorts according to Stuart:
"Stuart is a jellybelly!"
"I not a jellybelly! I a coconut!"

***

Nutrition according to a Southerner:
"Are you going to tell me that your Yankee brain expected to eat these red beans without rice?"

"No, I was going to make some rice. Then I saw you making biscuits and figured we wouldn't have rice because we already had a starch."

"In Southern cooking, the proper response to that is, 'So what?'"

***

Self-acceptance according to a license plate:

"IV FT X"

***

-- SJ

The Wedding Singers, September 2000: Back row L-R, Peter Fear, Kevin Koons, Josh Carden; second row L-R, Rose (Garber) Focht, Leah Garber, Darren, Jenna (Pocoroba) Cobb; front row, Dana (Robinson)... oh, wait. Sorry. And Lindsay Jones. 

Corvette, Fully Loaded (Carseats not included)

Last night at a modern version of the quilting bee -- scrapbooking -- my friends and I were talking about our first cars. I like this topic because I can bring out such a zinger: "My first car was a yellow 1976 Mercedes." Of course, the Mercedes was a junk heap, but the announcement has a very good effect.

We wandered onto subject of cool cars, and one friend mentioned that since her husband is a firefighter, one of his side jobs is to install carseats. "Yeah, he says somebody will come up in this little sports car and want a car seat installed."

"I'm sorry," he tells them. "This won't fit in this car."

And the owner of this ritzy little car bleats, "What do you mean, it won't fit in this car?!"

You can just see the spectre of minivans looming large in front of those horror-stricken eyes. It still makes me laugh to think about it.

-- SJ

Friends are Friends Forever

For me, the most pleasant surprise of marriage was the friendship that came with it.

When Darren first wrote to say he was interested in me, I was mad at him. We had a perfectly good friendship, and he had to go and ruin it with romance. Five years later, it's as much a term of endearment for him to call me "friend" as it is "love." Even if I no longer feel giddy when he holds my hand, my world still brightens incredibly when he walks into the room.

It's been fun as Addie has gotten older, to see her watch and understand how much Mama and Daddy enjoy each other. Naturally we want Addie and Stuart to grow up secure in the knowledge that their parents prefer each other to anyone else in the world -- not just for kissing and cuddling, but simply for companionship.

Last weekend, we made a good suburban family trip to Target. I stepped out of sight for a moment. Then I heard Addie ask Darren:

"Daddy, where is your friend Sara?"

As near to him as possible, little girl.

-- SJ

21st Century Vanity

At a community event last weekend, a teenager asked Darren if our child's hair was cut to curl under, or if it was natural. "It's natural," Darren replied.

"Lucky," the other answered enviously.

What makes the exchange funny is that the inquirer was fourteen-year-old boy, and he was watching Stuart.

-- SJ

P.S. Stuart, by the way, really needs a haircut. I think this is going to be a familiar theme between mother and son for years to come.

A good article about Patrick Henry College

Patrick Henry College has an article about it in The New Yorker that I thought was pretty interesting. The reporter actually came and lived on campus for a while, so it's not just a "hit-and-run" article.

--DJ

Mrs. Jones Goes to the Movies

Darren lies in bed at night, struggling with his regrets. "Why did I do it?" he asks himself. "It always turns out like this. I always think, 'This time it will be different,' but it never is. Now I'll have to live with the consequences for who knows how long!"

And Sara, lying in bed next to him, is saying aloud, "Oh, and another thing in the movie last night that irritated me was the way..."

Right, so Darren and I went to a movie last night. It was an extremely forgettable summer flick, except that I, who take movies far too seriously, am still mulling it over. (I loved The Incredibles; it took me three days to process it and put it away.) The movie, for those curious, is the new Brad Pitt - Angelina Jolie flick "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." Probably most people who see it will come out thinking it wasn't great, but not a bad evening. They won't sit through it thinking, "These people are professional assassins. They kill people. I'm supposed to think that's a glamorous career?" or "How can two people this selfish think they're going to have an actual marriage?" Besides, the movie is overlong. Even Darren thought the action scenes were too drawn-out. (I'm no judge in this matter, seeing as I think a film can accomplish all the action it needs in about thirty-five seconds.) Halfway through, I found my mind wandering back to a truly terrifying preview for "Flightplan," starring Jodie Foster. If you are in the middle of a movie and thinking about the previews, the movie is not exactly succeeding.

I did find it amusing that Jolie's character complained when given a small gun: "Why do I get the girl gun?" Yet when she charges out into the teeth of the enemy, her bullet-proof armor is cut high so that it exposes her stomach. Okay, so let's talk about limiting a female to fit a male's perceptions.

Darren was repulsed by the big fight scene between Pitt and Jolie. He didn't care if the female character was supposed to be equal in skill to the male; he didn't like seeing a man beating up a woman. It really was scary to watch, especially knowing that, realistically speaking, it wouldn't matter if she was as skillful a fighter as he; because of sheer strength, he would beat her to a pulp.

I figure that in the twenty-some hours since I saw the movie, I've put more thought into the characters and script than the studio did throughout the entire production. I suppose it's time to lay a dead horse to rest. Next time we go out, Darren probably will suggest going mini-golfing.

-- SJ

Mundania III

I had several "musings on weight" saved in Juno, to paste in when I needed a post. I did post one, in fact, and enjoyed the discussion it generated. Then Juno crashed and I lost all my remaining musings (which, despite its derivation, did not leave me amused). So to comfort the grieving world, which now can never read those particular thoughts, I'm resorting to the tried-and-true Mundane Updates.

* This past week was what my lonely two-years-ago self used to daydream about. Every day this week, I visited a friend, went to a gathering, or had people knock on my door asking us to come out and play. One day I hardly spent any time home, but I never left the neighborhood! It's been three years since we moved here, but I'm just now finding friends. The good things is that I'm more sensitive to others, now that I know what that lonely, I-don't-belong-here feeling is like.

* Related to the above, last weekend was a hospitality victory for us. I invited ten or eleven of my MOMS Club friends over for a backyard party... including their husbands and children. We hosted 19 people and about as many children. I was the only one who thought it was "hot outside but not too bad," but everyone seemed to have a good time. I was left with the flush of victory and four trays of tiny grocery-store cupcakes, which is what everyone brought.

* Darren does bedtime routine with the kids. But usually while he's putting Stuart to bed, Addie comes out to me: "May you pray with me tonight?" I told Darren, "Isn't it against Scripture to say No to a question like that?" So I wrap her up in her blanket ("making a nest") and pray with her. We taught her a simple bedtime prayer to say, but lately she prefers chanting it. Then she requests me to sing The Lord's Prayer. I, like Addie, make up my tune as I go; the traditional one plods. My tunes aren't nearly as, well, tuneful, but they sure don't plod!

[Darren interrupts with a comment about how Sara is... Sara interrupts the interruption to say Never Mind his comment, it isn't really public-blog material]

* Stuart made conversation today by saying to someone, "See my pretty hair? It's pretty blonde hair." Dana, Debra, and Lissa -- you will be interested to know that my son notices eye color.

* Addie's favorite new sport is tree-climbing. We have a half-grown pear tree in our front yard, and the child who climbed out of her crib at age 2 1/2 is just as agile when it comes to navigating limbs. She gets up in the morning, eats a granola bar, and then asks, "Can I go climb a tree way up high?"

* Marriage fun fact: Females don't finish bedtime conversation nearly as soon as males do.

Ah, it's a weekend. I surprised Darren by setting up a babysitter for tomorrow night. He was extremely busy at work, or otherwise he was going to to the same thing for me. One of these days we're going to have a couple of very confused girls show up at our house.

-- SJ

Literary Roundup

This blog periodically updates our readers on our current reading selections, a list populated by classics, religion, and profound thoughts. Only, that particular blogger is putting the kids to bed right now, so today you get to see how the other half reads.

I never read "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" when I was young, but thanks to my mom's finding an old copy at a junk shop, I just finished it today. Not a bad book -- sort of like an off-brand Anne of Green Gables -- but I'm afraid I set it down with only one lingering impression: Did people really think it was romantic for a thirty-two-year-old bachelor to be THAT interested in a fifteen-year-old girl?! I realize that the world was different in 1903, that girls grew up into women sooner; and I also don't think the seventeen-year difference is so terrible. It's just the thought of someone Darren's age being interested in a young teenage girl that gets to me. As in the Elsie Dinsmore books, I think the protector-figure-falling-in-love is supposed to be sweet. I just think it's icky. (And don't trot out Emma to me. Emma was young but she was very much a woman.)

More enjoyable was re-reading a staple of my childhood: "Sideways Stories from Wayside School," by Louis Sachar (who also wrote "Holes," a fantastic children's book). Wayside School was built sideways: instead of thirty rooms one story high, it's thirty stories high, one room to each story (except the nineteeth floor, which the builder forgot to put in. He said he was sorry). Like the school, the kids themselves are quirky. I as a fifth-grader liked them, and I as a late-twenties mom still laugh at them.

"Finding Betty Crocker" was an interesting "cultural history" book, recounting Betty's birth, rise to success, and continued prosperity -- not bad considering she's about seventy-five years old now. Of course there really isn't a Betty Crocker; she was created by General Mills as an advertising prop, not really expected to become such an American standard. One theme associated with Betty, probably deliberately highlighted by the author, was the idea that a woman had to keep a neat house, rear happy children, and cook good food or her husband couldn't be blamed for "straying." Betty played this tune a little, but some of her followers who wrote to her (at one point she received 1,000 letters a day) sang it in four-part harmony: "I'm such a bad cook that I know my husband can't be blamed for looking elsewhere..." But it's really a moot point for my marriage: I have no fear of losing my man, as long as I bake biscuits.

Classic, children's, and nonfiction. An exemplary list indeed. I've not discussed the material that I read in the beauty salon while waiting for a haircut, which would reduce the list's lofty status significantly.

-- SJ

You know who you are... 

Yeah, well...

I told Sarah M. the other day that I'm really impressed with all the work they're doing on their house. "Darren and I have hardly done anything with ours since we bought it."

"Yeah, well," Sarah said, "you didn't have the watermelon bathroom."

Yeah, well, maybe we'd just learn to like watermelon.

-- SJ