Hobnobbing with Royalty* (Updated)

I'm sorry. I know it's bad form to brag. But I can't help it. Because, you see, on Tuesday I met Rebekah. Yes, that Rebekah. When she let me know she was going to be attending the Gottesdienst conference with her husband this week, I knew I had to drive over. We have been online friends for a while but had never had the opportunity to meet in person. There was no way I was going to pass this up!

Have you ever met an online friend only to discover that she (or he) did not quite match the picture you had in your head? Yeah, me, too. But not this time. Rebekah was exactly as I imagined her, brimming with all the humor, intellect, and kindness that those of you who read the CSPP blog have come to expect. And as if all of that weren't enough, the lady is just so darned competent. You've heard that phrase "calm, cool and collected"? When you're in her presence you kind of get the feeling that everything's under control and it's all going to work out fine. I haven't felt that way in a while, so it was nice to absorb a little of it from my friend.

In addition to Rebekah, I also had the pleasure of meeting Melrose. And a few others I don't have links for. (By the way, every last one of them is a total babe.) I was the oddball of the group: no pastor husband in the other room, no children tagging along, and a few more years under my belt than everyone else. But there's an advantage to being the old lady in the group. After several hours soaking in all that youth and vitality, I came home feeling ten years younger. :-)

Only down side to the day: I forgot to get a picture!

*To be absolutely clear, the ladies in question--and their husbands--do not act like "royalty." They are some of the humblest people I know, dear brothers and sisters in the royal priesthood of fellow believers in Christ.  

Awake!

Some years ago, at our previous parish, a chorister in my husband's children's choir came to him with a dream she had recently had. The young lady's name was Natalie. She described her dream as one in which the choir was singing and Phillip was conducting a piece that ended with multiple parts/layers singing "alleluia" over and over. She said to Phillip, "It was glorious!" and he responded with a smile, "Well, maybe I will just have to write a piece like that for us to sing!" He ended up doing just that, and the piece was premiered that year at Easter.

Over fifteen years later, children are still singing this piece. Here is a video of our fourth and fifth grade choir singing it in church today. The song is called "Awake!" and it is a setting of the Paul Gerhardt hymn "Awake, My Heart, with Gladness." The music is original, composed by my husband, although you may hear some hints of the tune AUF, AUF MEIN HERZ, with which the text is paired in our hymnal, Lutheran Service Book. Isn't it cool that a 20th-century cantor can collaborate with a 17th-century hymn writer to create a new song for God's people to sing today? I hope you enjoy this beautiful expression of the Lord's song by some of the children of our parish.


"Awake!" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Cross Post

Please consider clicking over to my other round unvarnished blog today. There's a new post (believe it or not)!

Can't Argue With That

For the last few months in family devotion we have been studying the Apostles' Creed. Right now Evan is memorizing the Third Article and its meaning. Today we focused on the first part of that meaning (from Luther's Small Catechism):

"I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him . . . . "

As we discussed the sentence above, this dialogue occurred:

Phillip - "Evan, do you believe in Jesus?"

Evan - "Yes."

Phillip - "But how can you do that? We just confessed that we cannot by our own reason or strength believe in Him. What makes you believe?"

Evan - "The Holy Spirit."

Phillip - "Very good, Evan! And how does the Holy Spirit do that?"

Evan - "In baptism."

Phillip - "Yes, that's right! And what gift did the Holy Spirit give you in baptism?"

Evan - "Believance."

Be Not Afraid

When my oldest child (now 19) was about 7 or 8, he went through a period of time where he was fearful at night. We did various things to try to assuage his fears. First, of course, we prayed with him, asking for the Father's protection and comfort. Second, we bought this tapestry to hang on the wall opposite his bed as a visual reminder of the One who was there watching over him and protecting him not only all through the night but every moment of every day.

Third, we read psalms. Lots and lots of psalms. There was one in particular that we found ourselves returning to again and again. Each night it would be the last one we would read before going to sleep. It happens to have been the Psalm of the Day in church today, the Third Sunday of Easter. Our choir sang a beautiful setting of it from Liturgy Solutions.

Psalm 4

To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments. A Psalm of David.

Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness! You have given me relief when I was in distress. Be gracious to me and hear my prayer!

O men, how long shall my honor be turned into shame? How long will you love vain words and seek after lies?

But know the Lord has set apart the godly for himself; the Lord hears when I call to him.

Be angry and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent. Offer right sacrifices, and put your trust in the Lord.

There are many who say, "Who will show us some good? Lift up the light of your face upon us, O Lord!"

You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound.

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.


At various times in my life I have struggled with insomnia. It comes and goes, but at the moment I seem to be in a pretty severe phase. My usual response after trying to sleep for an hour or so is to give up and go surf the net or watch television (old sitcoms seem to have a tranquilizing effect). But maybe instead I should try the approach we used all those years ago with Trevor: look at a picture of Jesus (the one above is still hanging on the wall in his room), read some psalms, and pray. Even if sleep doesn't come,  it would be time well spent. 

Bullies

I think many people can relate to having been teased or made fun of as children. In my opinion that is not the same thing as being bullied. Bullying is a prolonged form of torment, either physical or mental, that can lead to serious and lasting repercussions in the one who is bullied. I spent about three years of my adolescence (ages 11-13) being regularly bullied by not just one but many people in the junior high I attended, and I have long realized as an adult that in many ways I am still suffering the consequences. That kind of treatment skews a person's perceptions, perverting how he sees himself, others, and the world.

But what I have only recently come to realize is that bullying is not just something that happens to children. It is also unfortunately all too common among adults. Two of the most common environments for adult bullying are cyberspace and workplaces. Yet even though the settings are different, the tactics are the same. Consider these passages on bullying from Wikipedia:

Of bullies and bully accomplices
Research indicates that adults who bully have personalities that are authoritarian, combined with a strong need to control or dominate. . . .

It is often suggested that bullying behavior has its origin in childhood. As a child who is inclined to act as a bully ages, his or her related behavior patterns will often also become more sophisticated. Schoolyard pranks and 'rough-housing' may develop into more subtle, yet equally effective adult-level activities such as administrative end-runs, well-planned and orchestrated attempts at character assassination, or other less obvious, yet equally forceful forms of coercion.

Of typical bystanders
Often bullying takes place in the presence of a large group of relatively uninvolved bystanders. In many cases, it is the bully's ability to create the illusion that he or she has the support of the majority present that instills the fear of 'speaking out' in protestation of the bullying activities being observed by the group. Unless the 'bully mentality' is effectively challenged in any given group in its earlier stages, it often becomes an accepted norm within the group.

In such groups where the 'bully mentality' has been allowed to become a dominant factor in the group environment, a steady stream of injustices and abuses often becomes a regular and predictable group experience. Such a toxic environment often remains as the status-quo of the group for an extended period of time, until somehow the bullying-cycle should eventually come to an end. Bystanders to bullying activities are often unable to recognize the true cost that silence regarding the bullying activities has to both the individual and to the group. A certain inability to fully empathize is also usually present in the typical bystander, but to a lesser degree than in the bully. The reversal of a 'bully mentality' within a group is usually an effort which requires much time, energy, careful planning, coordination with others, and usually the undertaking of a certain 'risk'.

It is the general unwillingness of bystanders to expend these types of energies and to undertake these types of risks that bullies often rely upon in order to maintain their monopolies of power. Until or unless at least one individual who has at least some abilities to work with others, opts to expend whatever energies may be needed to reverse the 'bully mentality' of the group, the 'bully mentality' is often perpetuated within a group for months, years, or even decades.

As I read this I can't help but think about behaviors I have seen--and I'm talking from adults, not children--in online places like Facebook, blogs and email lists as well as in real life locations such as workplaces and churches. I know that opposition to bullying seems to have become the latest politically correct cause and I have seen the backlash against that in the argument that we all need to not take it so seriously because, after all, it's just bullying and those who get bullied should simply learn to buck up and deal with it. I disagree with that. I think bullying is a serious problem in our culture. It happens to people of all ages. It is not limited to those whom society has identified as marginalized by their ethnicity, socio-economic background or sexual preference. Sometimes it happens to people you would never expect, in places you would never imagine. And as long as the majority stand by silent, it will continue.

Gifts for God

I am not sure what prompted this line of thinking, but lately Evan has been coming up with gift ideas for God. So far he has three:

1) A lamb with a gold crown and a string of pearls around its neck.

2) Seven mounds of diamonds.

3) A picture of our church.

I just think this is so cool.

"Music's Music" - Or is it?

Recently my friend Susan wrote a blog post called "Real Music" in which she highlighted one of the things that sets live music apart from recorded music: with live music you can hear the sounds of the music being made--things like the singer's breaths or the depressing of the organ or piano pedals or the guitarist's fingers sliding up and down the strings. She wrote of these things not as distractions but as things she is happy to hear because they are representative of real music being made by real people.

As someone who is increasingly distressed at the ways recorded music is replacing live music in our world I greatly appreciated her post. Many people don't see a difference between a recording and a living, breathing performance. A few days ago I saw a pastor friend on Facebook touting a product called "The Virtual Organist." His post began, "No organist? No problem." As someone who thinks it is quite possible to have reverent, beautiful worship without any organ or even without a musician, part of me responds positively to that sentence. At the same time, I bristle at the claim that a human musician can be replaced by a digital one with nothing lost. I think in fact that much is lost. And I think it is a huge problem that it is getting harder and harder to find musicians of a certain skill level. It reflects a troubling trend in our society, one that more and more views music as something not that people do but as something that they merely receive.

This morning I saw this comic strip in my blog reader:

(Original link here.)

The issue is different, but I think it demonstrates a similar lack of appreciation of many for what goes into--and comes out of--live music. Music is music, right? So there is no difference between a real, live organist and a recorded one. Hey, that recording will probably be more accurate and rhythmically clean than an imperfect, human musician. Yet I would far and away rather attend a service accompanied by my friend of limited ability who is working hard to fill in the gap created at her church by an organist's failing health than to attend a service accompanied by "The Virtual Organist." The latter might be clean and neat, but the former is authentic. Real. Honest. Alive.

I am currently playing in a pit orchestra for a local junior high's production of Bye, Bye, Birdie. I have immense respect for this school and its music and administrative staff for appreciating the difference between a live pit orchestra and a recording and for being willing to pay for the former. We will not be as clean as the recording will be. But each performance will be unique, something that is a reflection of a particular combination of musicians, performers, and listeners at a specific point in time. The pit will be able to adjust to the performance in a way that a track cannot. And the young people in the production will get something that more accurately reflects the give and take that happens in a real musical/theatrical event. It is something that can't be bottled, with a worth that can't be measured.

I also have great respect for schools in my area that annually hire live accompanists (like me) for music contests. A friend and colleague of mine recently shared the experience of adjudicating a school contest in another district. All of the students were accompanied by "Smart Music" tracks. My friend was told to go easy on his judging of the students because, after all, they had never had the benefit of playing with a live accompanist. As with virtual organ programs, I can appreciate some of the practical applications of recorded music. But I grieve what is being lost when people begin to look to it as a replacement for live music. "No accompanist? No problem." I'm sorry, but it is a problem. The students are missing out on the enormous benefits of working with an experienced accompanist, getting additional musical coaching, and collaborating to achieve a harmonious and unified ensemble. That cannot be replaced by an accompaniment track.

But again, most people don't seem to get this. Except for the American idols who command millions of fans and dollars, musicians seem to be getting less and less respect. I recently heard a pastor argue for compensating organists hourly along the lines of secretaries. So if one plays for a service, and the service is an hour long, one should get paid about the same as a secretary would get paid for an hour of his or her time. I don't mean to disrespect secretaries, but the time and study that goes into developing the musical skills necessary to accompany a worship service, not to mention the time that goes into practicing for that specific service, is beyond that required to learn to be a secretary. One can decide as an adult to be a secretary and can realistically set about acquiring the skills in a reasonable period of time. It is much harder in adulthood to take up music if you have never, ever studied it before. But I can see how someone who thinks "music's music" might not get that.

Oh, All Right

If you listened to the video of "No Tramp of Soldiers' Marching Feet" in my previous post, here's a little story to go with it. The first note of the hymn introduction--that big, low trombone that leads into a marching motif--used to be even bigger and lower. Yesterday after church I remarked to my husband that as powerful as it is, it doesn't quite sound like it did the first few years he did it. He proceeded to remind me that when we first came to our current congregation the organ had several 32-foot pipes. Such massive pipes are really too large for even our sanctuary, and so they were squeezed into a space that is too small for them. Ultimately they became a hazard--loose, rattling, and in danger of collapsing on the rest of the organ--and the decision was made to have them removed. They were replaced a few years ago by several new 16-foot pipes. Phillip told me that to get that old sound back we would have to go out and find some aging, bent 32-foot pipes and improperly mount them in our organ loft, resulting in a nice, rattling effect when they were played.

I told him I could learn to live with the 16-foot.

Palm Sunday Music

A couple of today's musical highlights. First, a sequence including the Verse and Hymn of the Day. The verse is John 12:23: "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified." This leads into the hymn: "No Tramp of Soldiers' Marching Feet" (LSB 444). For me this is the moment when Holy Week seems to begin. The soldiers march not to celebrate the Lord with a festive parade but to capture and lead him to his torture, crucifixion, and death. Listen to the organ as it communicates the ominousness of what is coming and reflects the words of the hymn, particularly as Pilate's voice in stanza three is replaced by that of the ransomed host in stanza four.

Palm Sunday Verse/Hymn of the Day from Cheryl on Vimeo.

The second video is our resident lyric soprano--we are blessed by so much talent in our midst!--accompanied by my husband on a Palm Sunday favorite.

"Les Rameaux" (The Palms) - Jean-Baptiste Faure from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Stay tuned. I will try to post several more selections as the week progresses.

Random

Sometimes my daughter and her friend like to be "random." Seeing as how I still seem to be experiencing major blogger's block, I've decided to take a page out of their playbook and post some random life stuff.

It has been a rather disjointed week for us as a family. My husband spent it at Kitsap Naval Base in Washington (state), leading the music (again) for a Doxology retreat. This one, as well as one at Shaw Air Force Base in North Carolina the week before, was especially for Lutheran chaplains. One of the highlights of the week for this naval officer's son was touring the USS John C. Stennis. Phillip is on the right in the burnt orange shirt.

He was also given an official Navy compass and coin as keepsakes. I am so glad he was able to be a part of this week.

While Phillip was in Washington, the children and I also headed west, although not quite so far! After a wonderful spring break with Trevor home, it was time for him to get back to the books. This time I took Caitlin and Evan with me and we spent an extra day visiting friends: two long 12-hour days of driving (thank goodness for cruise control, satellite radio, and mp3/DVD players!), but it was worth it. The drive there was especially challenging as I had terrible insomnia the night before (I seem to be experiencing another one of my periodic insomnia phases these days). I managed to keep myself going with extra coffee and, when things really got rough, a shot of Five Hour Energy. It is a vitamin/amino acid/caffeine drink that promises "no crash" (the fine print guarantees "no sugar crash" but says nothing about caffeine crashes). One shot has the equivalent of only one cup of coffee, but I suppose the caffeine hits your system much faster than with a cup of coffee since the drink can be downed in several swallows. The bottle says a "niacin rush" is normal due to increased blood flow near the skin. The only thing I noticed was a a little pressure in my ears, but who knows, maybe that was allergies or a cold coming on. Otherwise, I tolerated it well and had no jitters (but I have a pretty high caffeine tolerance) and no trouble getting to sleep that night. I was exhausted!

Unfortunately, I did return from the trip with a nasty cold and spent a couple of days in bed. Haven't been that sick in quite a while. I am feeling better now but wishing I could get those two lost days back! On the other hand, it was a good excuse to watch a couple of movies with Caitlin: Pirates of the Caribbean (first time ever) and Stranger Than Fiction (two completely different viewing experiences, both recommended, the second one particularly if you are a writer or avid reader).

In a couple of weeks I will be playing in the pit orchestra for a school production of Bye, Bye, Birdie. I have done a cursory read through the score but need to get to seriously practicing on it. It is technically not that hard but some of the numbers are in some tricky keys. Also need to file the personal taxes (at least the corporate ones are done--must have something to do with that March 15 deadline!). Yikes!

After several years of going without a lawn service, we have decided to enlist one this year. Our do-it-yourself approach is not eliciting the desired result. The construction project that tore up half of our back yard did not help matters. I expect this will be a "rebuilding" year where our lawn is concerned. I am also hoping to revisit a number of house projects this spring. Since making some major dining room progress a few months back, I have stalled where the house is concerned. Next up: finishing painting the kitchen. Wish me luck.

Nothing in the garden yet except for the chives that come back no matter what we do. :-) I am amazed by my friends who plant early enough that they are already harvesting by this time. We do well to get one round of growing done a year.

School has been hit-and-miss for the last few months. I guess Caitlin's studies have not suffered too much--she attends a homeschool geometry class and has regularly scheduled times for piano, voice, choir, and Tae Kwon Do. And her dad stays on top of the French instruction. She is also quite self-directed and is making her way through Apologia Physical Science. But her history/literature teacher (who shall remain nameless) has been AWOL for the past month. Meanwhile, Evan has been unschooled by default this winter. There has been some reading aloud and geography (via Highlights' Top Secret Adventures) and the occasional math or handwriting page, but it's all been rather intermittent, including the piano instruction (the piano teacher seems to have disappeared about the same time as that aforementioned literature teacher--no doubt, they are off somewhere together, probably up to no good).

Speaking of Tae Kwon Do, Caitlin passed her most recent test! Here she is breaking her board:

Test for High Brown Belt from Cheryl on Vimeo.

I finally finished The Hobbit! Yay, reading success! Now I have moved on to The Hunger Games. It is going much faster than Tolkien. Maybe I am learning to concentrate again or maybe it's just a much easier read. Or maybe both.

I mentioned in my last post my newly discovered passion for sushi. In recent weeks I have had some "cadillac" sushi and some mediocre sushi. The former is some of the best eating I have ever done in my life. Tomorrow we are going to take Caitlin and Evan here after Palm Sunday worship. I think Caitlin will love it--she has a very sophisticated palate. Evan, probably not so much (we did make sure they have a children's menu). Who knows, maybe sushi on Palm Sunday will become a new family tradition! :-)

I am feeling rather resigned about this election year. Not that I am resigned to losing. But whereas I did lots of blogging about the 2008 election, I have not felt motivated to do much this time around. Maybe that will change. But maybe not. I figure most of my readers already know what they think and probably don't need to hear my sophomoric political ramblings. And I am just also feeling rather fatalistic--as if what's going to happen is going to happen and my worrying and thinking and obsessing about it is not going to make any difference. Ora et labora.

This type of blog post doesn't need a conclusion, right?

Phillip and Cheryl's Excellent Anniversary

A week ago yesterday my husband and I embarked on what turned out to be a magical celebration of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect two days. Thanks to a gift of "points" from my sister-in-law, we were able to enjoy a luxury stay at the JW Marriott in downtown Chicago. The only cost to us was parking (even internet and taxes were included)!

We left home Sunday after church. The first thing we did upon checking in was to report for our previously scheduled massage at the Valeo spa in the basement of the hotel. When we arrived at the front desk the smiling hostess asked if we were there for an "experience." We nodded nervously, trying to pretend we knew what we were doing but secretly hoping we weren't getting in over our heads (the same ones, by the way, that have "Clueless Suburbanites" tattooed across the tops). Nevertheless, our names were quickly located on the schedule and we were taken to separate locker rooms to change and then shown to our gently lit "transition" room, where we were invited to enjoy some hot tea while listening to the relaxing music.

When the time came for our massage we were taken by our respective "providers" to a room set up with two massage tables next to one another. I wish I had snapped a picture but in my awe failed to do so. Our masseur and masseuse left the room so we could get situated on our tables and shortly returned for our 30-minute candle-lit treatment. After our massage we were invited to enjoy a soak in the hot tub, complete with aroma and light therapy, not to mention chocolate-covered strawberries (we passed on the wine, anticipating drinks later in the evening). I began to see the wisdom of calling the whole thing an "experience," for in its appeal to all the senses it was definitely not your garden variety massage! It is only the second time in my life I have had a massage; it was my husband's first. He followed up with visit to the steam room while I had another cup of tea. Then it was back to our room to get ready for supper.

Probably the most pleasant surprise of the weekend was our upgrade from a basic room to a luxury suite. My sister-in-law had informed the management that we were celebrating our 25th anniversary, and they said they would do what they could to make it a special getaway. I have to hand it to the JW Marriott--they went far beyond what we ever anticipated, upgrading us to a luxury suite:

Our "front" door--we stayed in the "Quincy" suite

View out one of our windows--we had a corner room, so we had two different views

Living room with welcome tray of bread, cheese, fruit spread and Evian

Wet bar with stocked refrigerator (we were told not to move things around in the refrigerator unless we wanted to purchase something--doing so would trip the sensor so that we would get charged for the moved item even if we didn't consume it)

Bedroom (note the mounted reading lights on each side of the headboard)

Sitting area in bedroom

Guest bathroom (not that we had any guests, but it was nice to have a second facility!)

Tub in main bathroom (I have a photo of my beloved soaking in this tub but I'm going to leave that one to your imagination)

The mirror had a built-in television screen for watching while soaking.

Shower (it was big enough for five people--seriously). It had two shower heads, one regular and one huge "rainshower" head (seen in the ceiling)

Two sinks

Vanity (I really need one of those lighted magnifying mirrors for home--then again, perhaps blindness is bliss)

Walk-in closet with complimentary his-and-her robes

The plan for our first evening was dinner at Fogo de Chao. This was not our first time to go to Fogo, but it is definitely not a place we get to visit that often. If you ever get the chance to eat there, grab it. It is a dining experience unlike any other--one price, all you can eat. You can see how thrilled I was as we headed out to dinner!

While we waited for our table, we enjoyed a couple of caipirinhas (Fogo's signature drink) at the bar.

Phillip is getting ready to "go green" (indicating to the meat-serving gauchos that he is ready for some protein)!

My plate after a trip to the salad bar

My plate after being visited by several gauchos. The side dishes--polenta, fried banana (further south it would have been plantain) and black beans--are seen at the top of the plate. The meats pictured are chicken, sausage, and some cut of beef (can't remember which).

Dessert was compliments of Fogo!

View of the Chicago River while walking back to the hotel after supper. It was a gorgeous evening.

Monday we slept in and then walked to the Art Institute, stopping for lunch on the way at The Berghoff (another one of our Chicago favorites).

I have been to the Art Institute several times with children, but this was Phillip's first time to go. We spent most of our time looking at the paintings (and we didn't make it to all the rooms--sorry, Medieval/Renaissance masters!).

One of my favorites: Renoir's Woman at the Piano. I often use it for my profile pic on Facebook.

The painting below was a new discovery for me this trip: Renganeschi's Saturday Night, 1912, by American painter John Sloan. I have now looked at a little more of his work and really like it. This painting depicts some young women eating out, enjoying female companionship without male escorts, reflecting the changing mores of the time regarding what was acceptable behavior for women. The description of the painting at the Art Institute noted the way the woman on the right is wrapping her legs around the chair legs, indicating her bourgeoisie background (she doesn't know how to sit properly). I can so relate to this painting. I don't know how to sit, either, and I love spending time with my girlfriends.

I have recently discovered a passion for sushi. Monday night we ate at Roy's Hawaiian Fusion.

This was the dessert we ordered (chocolate souffle with ice cream).

This was the dessert our waiter brought out for free upon discovering we were celebrating our anniversary! (Have I mentioned how much I love this town?)

On Tuesday it was time to check out (sigh). We wrapped up our time together with lunch at Rick Bayless's Frontera Grill.

I can't think of anything else to say except, "Honey, can we have another 25th anniversary next year?"

If you missed my 24th anniversary post, here it is, featuring some historic pictures, including a few from the day I cast my lot with a certain cantor, making the best decision I have ever made in my whole life. Here's to 25 more, my dearest husband. Thank you for giving me my best life now, every moment of every day, and for working as hard as you do in love for God's people and for us, your family. I love you with all my heart. :-)

My Brother Died

At least I thought he was my brother. I was not listed as a sibling in his obituary, nor was I notified of his death. I stumbled on the news on Facebook today on another relative's page.

I am the youngest child of a combined family. My father was a widower with four children. My mother was a divorcee with six. They married and had me, and I am quite a bit younger than all my siblings. I grew up in a two-sided family, and I have never really known which "side" I belong to. Sometimes I don't think I belong to either. But for my whole life, when people have asked about my family, I have responded by saying that I have six sisters and four brothers.

My brother who died several days ago was my father's oldest son. I am kind of confused right now, not sure how I feel about this or how I ought to feel about this. I do not feel his loss deeply on a personal level, as I did not know this brother well. I did try to keep in touch with him over the years through Christmas cards and the like. I think when I first heard about this today I just had to set it aside for a little while. Now I find myself grieving, not so much the death of my brother, but the death of a dream of the kind of family I always wished for but never really had.

I may not be my brother's sister, but I still consider him my brother. When I die, I would like my obituary to state that "Cheryl was the youngest of eleven children."

GCB

There's a new show on ABC called GCB. It's named after the book on which the show is based: Good Christian B*****s. As I understand it, for a while the show was going to be called Good Christian Belles but then it became simply GCB. I'm not sure why since very few people these days seem to have any problem with the "b" word (for the record, I do).

One of the stars is Kristen Chenoweth (Glinda from the original Broadway production of Wicked), who actually plays the main antagonist. According to what I have read, the show is set in Highland Park, Dallas, and follows the lives of some women who attended high school together. The protagonist is a newly widowed woman with two children who moves back home only to discover that the girls she used to torment in high school are still around and hungry for revenge.

Here's a trailer for the show. Warning: some adult dialogue/situations.



Obviously much of the humor in the show is going to arise from the over-the-top character played by Chenoweth (I have to admit I smiled at a few of her lines--can't imagine anyone else delivering them quite like that). Because her character gives lip service to Christianity while behaving in consistently un-Christian ways, the series has already received some negative press and calls for boycotts. Personally, I think they're probably making a mountain out of a molehill. (Where are the calls for boycotts from Texans, who are also depicted poorly? I'm from Texas, and I didn't know people like that, but then again, I didn't grow up in Highland Park.)

The show strikes me as farce--satire. It's a soap opera, and we all know how realistic soap operas are, right? They aren't to be taken seriously. Real life isn't like that. I also don't have a problem with Christians being depicted as sinners. We are, aren't we? Christians can and do behave in mean, nasty, and despicable ways, all while claiming the name of Christ. The difference between Christians behaving badly and others behaving badly is that a believing Christian acknowledges the existence of sin and its hold on him and knows his need for a Saviour. His sin grieves him. I doubt that we will get any of that in this show because ultimately that's not what the series is about. The church setting could be changed to something else and the show's premise would still be intact: grownup women behaving like the worst high school stereotypes you can imagine.

And that ultimately is why I don't plan to watch GCB (not that I have time for another TV show--it's all I can do to keep up with the two I am currently enjoying): not because it depicts some Christians in a negative light but because it appears from the trailer that the show is not going to offer any thoughtful commentary on life but rather a non-stop exercise in sex jokes and vulgarity. The occasional laugh is not worth the ick factor.

And, oh yeah, did I mention that I have a problem with a show that has "b****" in the title?

Giving Our Children Their Due

A week or two ago a Facebook friend of mine shared the experience of her daughter's wanting to download a certain song that is very popular these days. My friend, extraordinary parent that she is, researched the song and discovered its unsuitability for a sixth grader. (For the curious, the song is "Moves Like Jagger"--if your preteens are listening to it, they really ought not to be.) Accordingly, she vetoed her daughter's request. On the Facebook thread in question, another parent posted a warning to my friend, something to the effect of "It's only going to get worse."

I see and hear this sentiment from parents a lot. It is the idea that children are hard-wired to challenge what they have been taught--that it is only natural for them to rebel as they get older. Many parents seem so convinced of this that they anticipate it long before it shows any signs of happening, and as a result I think they actually start pushing their children towards questionable choices in behavior, clothing, music, and more. It happens with young children as well as older ones. The 6-year-old girl sasses her mother and instead of being chastised and immediately put in her place she is celebrated and giggled at for being such a spunky little wisecracker. The 13-year-old selects low-ride short shorts on a shopping trip and instead of putting her foot down Mom shrugs and pays for them because "I guess that's what all the kids are wearing now."

The thing is, that's not what all the kids are wearing. Mine isn't. (Nor does she want to.) My kid also isn't talking back. Well, maybe the 8-year-old is sometimes. We're working on it. ;-) But having seen two children almost through adolescence with one yet to go, I refuse to accept the notion that adolescence is a time of life when, no matter what I do, my child is going to suddenly turn into someone unknown to me. I understand that sometimes things happen that we could not have predicted. Sometimes despite all our best efforts our children choose a foreign path. We are, after all, sinners in a fallen world. But far from its being the natural course, I believe it is unnatural for humans to reject their upbringing. Children who have been brought up to travel a certain path and who are repeatedly pulled back on to that path by determined, caring parents are much more likely, even if they briefly wander, to return to what they know to be safe and right and true than they are to head off into the woods.

I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but for what it's worth, here's my plea: Parents, please give your children credit for being the thoughtful, discerning, smart people you are rearing them to be. Respect their good taste, intelligence, moral compass and maturity. Don't write them off as hapless victims of the culture monster. Give them the best and expect the best in return. In my experience, not only will they continue to hold firm to the storehouse of intellectual and spiritual riches with which you have provided them, but they will go far beyond it, contributing their own discoveries and observations, which will in turn come back to enrich and edify you. And why should it be otherwise? They're your kids, after all.

Hope

This is exactly what I needed to read today. I commend it to you as well. Thank you, Reb. Mary of CSPP. Full post here.

"I Will Hope"

What do you do when all the crises—health, family, church—crash in at once? When you try to squash the sadness and the lostness into a corner of your throat because you feel like there’s no point in talk--treading over and over the same ground, when there are no new solutions in sight? When it gets to the point that you dread going to bed because there’s no peace in sleep, only—at best—a temporary oblivion overlaid with the crushing burden of having to get up in the morning and face everything all over again?

More’s the victory for the enemy, if he can get us to dread the bright dawn, to believe that its fresh rays can never illumine dark Hopeless. Recognize this attack for what it is, and remember: What do I know, even when I do not feel it? The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

No, everything may not look brighter in the morning, but “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him." It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.

So eager am I to depart Hopeless that I forget: It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.

So eager am I to deaden the pain, to protect myself from the anguish of Hopeless, that I forget: what is such self-protection, after all, but the hardening of my heart against the only One can rescue me, who even now is at work in my life? For the Lord will not cast off forever, but, though he cause grief—though He cause grief!—he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love.

The enemy hisses that Hopeless is Reality. That dawn brings only drear. That hardening your heart against hope is your only protection, so shove your feelings back down your gut, because numb is the best you can hope for.

Hearken to a different voice: Today, as you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion. Oh! How many rebellions have there been, in this foolish little shriveled-raisin heart of mine! Thrice in short span, the writer to the Hebrews echoes this exhortation, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts.” Today, today, today—this very moment! Thrice-repudiated is the insidious accusation of never and too little and too late. Even amid the darkness, this is the moment of grace—of the shockingly free grace whose dreadfully priceless purchase makes all the difference, now and forevermore, between Hard and Hopeless.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Though he slay me with blessings beyond what I can bear, I will hope in Him.

Honey for a Blogger's Heart

I had the most lovely thing happen today. My friends Christina and Jeannette share a blog with a another friend of theirs (a lady I don't know but am sure I would love if she is anything like Christina and Jeannette). It is a reading blog, documenting their personal journey through the literature recommended in Susan Wise Bauer's book The Well Educated Mind. I first pointed you, my readers, to their blog in this post from 2011.

Right now they are reading one of my favorite all-time books: Jane Eyre. I wish I had time to read along with them, but at the moment I am still trying to finish The Hobbit (having been slowed down of late by the same things that are keeping me from blogging as often as I would like). But I am still enjoying their posts, and today, I especially enjoyed this one. Click over and you'll see why. And then stay a while longer and see what other hidden jewels you can discover.

Thank you so much, ladies. It is nice to be appreciated.

Drive-By Post

I'm not supposed to be here. But this is such a cool story I have to drop in long enough to tell it.

Yesterday to wrap up a rather long, hard week we decided to treat ourselves to lunch out. Actually we didn't need to treat ourselves as our wonderful choir did so by virtue of the gift card they gave us for Christmas. So after church Phillip, Caitlin, Evan and I went here. There are several locations in Chicagoland; we went to the one in our neighborhood.

During lunch (which was wonderful) we struck up a conversation with out waiter, a charming young man in his twenties. As we talked, he volunteered that after graduating from high school he had left home for college but had a little trouble settling into a good routine. In his words, when he got out on his own he found himself rebelling somewhat against his "strict, conservative, Lutheran upbringing." As he shook his head with sincere regret we tried not to spew our water all over the table.

We told our new friend that we know all about strict, conservative, Lutheran upbringings because that's pretty much what we do, and we shared that we just happen to attend a strict, conservative, Lutheran church where my husband is Cantor. Imagine our surprise when he informed us that he graduated from our church's day school about 13 years ago. We just missed him by a year. We moved to this area 12 years ago.

Further conversation revealed that our waiter did not attend our church when he was younger but instead, along with his parents, attended a sister church in the area that is known for a more pop-oriented style of worship. His parents have since moved away and he is living on his own, working as a waiter, and trying to finish college. Of course we invited him to church. He asked for worship times (he needs to attend early so that he can get to the restaurant for his Sunday shift) and then wanted to know if the early service had traditional worship. We told him all our services have traditional worship and he smiled: "Good. I always liked that best."

As the meal progressed we continued to enjoy getting to know this interesting and intelligent young man. Before we left he made a point of double-checking the worship time and wrote it down, along with the website address of one of our pastors. As I consider the events that led to our ending up in that restaurant with that waiter on that day, I smile again in wonder at the perfect way that our Lord works, turning the seemingly random and chaotic pieces of our lives into a picture that not only makes sense but that has surpassing order and beauty. Please pray for a young man named Josh. We are hoping to see him again very soon.

Bloggus Interruptus

Hi everyone,

I haven't felt like blogging this week and don't know when I will. If and when I do feel like it again, I don't know if I'll have time. I hope you'll still be here when I get back, whenever that is. Thanks for hanging out with me the last 5 years when I know you must have had better things to do.

Love,

Cheryl

French Class

This is the scene in our kitchen about three mornings per week.

French Class from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Fourth Sunday After Epiphany

My child is the short one in the front row that sometimes to forgets to sing and is seen bobbing his head from side to side at the end of the video. Sigh. We're making progress, but it's slow. :-)

"Praise, Rejoice and Sing" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Little Home of Horrors

Today at the conclusion of our morning devotion Evan got up to leave the table. As he passed by his father's chair, my husband reached out his arms for his younger son. Evan, anticipating some paternal tickling (or other such torment), tried to avoid his father's grasp, but fathers' grasps being what they are, was unsuccessful. After a few seconds of wrangling Evan submitted and my husband said, "Evan, I just want to hug you. You don't try to get away from Mommy--why do you try to get away from me?" To which Evan replied, "Oh. I thought you were going to do a more horrifying application."

Hugs of the non-horrifying variety ensued.

Ring Tales

No, this is not a post about The Hobbit.

I recently read this blog post by a friend whose ring fell down her drain and was damaged in the disposal. I feel so terrible for her!

It reminded me of a story with a happier ending, although the happy ending was long in coming. Here's a news item about a Swedish woman who lost her wedding ring 16 years ago but recently found the ring encircling a carrot that she picked from her garden!

Here's my ring story. About five years ago I quit wearing my wedding set because I was told the prongs were so worn that I was in danger of losing a diamond. My set has seven diamonds totaling half a carat. The estimate on retipping all those diamonds was frightening--to do so would have cost way more than my husband originally paid for the ring. So I retired my wedding set and started wearing a plain gold band that my mother-in-law had given me. My husband and I decided that some day we would get a new setting for my wedding ring but that it would have to wait a while.

This past fall while raking and bagging leaves I suddenly realized that the gold band I had been wearing on my ring finger was no longer on my finger. Cold weather = skinnier fingers = slippery rings. I assume the band fell off my finger into a pile or bag of leaves. There was no finding it.

My husband and I had already been talking about an anniversary ring--we celebrate 25 years in March! So guess what that dear man did? In December he took me shopping for an early anniversary gift. It is similar to my wedding ring but a little bigger (1 carat instead of 1/2 carat). It is a traditional 3-stone ring with one central diamond, two slightly smaller ones on each side, and eight diamond chips set into the band, four on each side.


Yes, I'm a happy girl! I still have my original wedding set, and I hope some day one or more of the diamonds will find another home--maybe in a new setting for my daughter or a future daughter-in-law. For now it is safe in my jewelry box and the ring above is on my finger! I have decided, after reading my friend Glenda's post, that I may need to have it sized down because it's a little loose (but I am waiting to see how it fits in the summer). I have also developed the habit of taking it off at night (8 hours per night of rubbing on the sheets is VERY hard on the prongs and causes them to wear much more quickly than they otherwise would) and of not wearing it when I am going to do manual labor (although I do wash dishes with it on). The trick is putting it in a safe place when taking it off. The kitchen counter does not qualify as safe! My safe spot is in or on top of my jewelry box.

I am enjoying my beautiful new ring and unlike Bilbo Baggins am very glad it doesn't make me invisible, since I love looking at it on my hand!

Who Needs Textbooks?

Yesterday at lunch Evan suddenly piped up:

"Mommy, Kitty Galore is the anty-gonist in Cats and Dogs 2."

We scratched our heads a little at that one--"Anty-Gonist? What's an anty-gonist?"--and then realized he was trying to say "antagonist." But even then we continued to scratch our heads. Where'd my 8-year-old learn about antagonists?

"Evan, you are right. Kitty Galore is definitely the antagonist. But where did you learn about antagonists?"

"From reading about the Zelda characters."

Oh. From there we had an approximately 15-minute discussion about the protagonists and antagonists in various stories Evan knows. My trusty literary sidekick (a.k.a. my daughter Caitlin) assisted greatly in defining and applying terms, and Evan learned something that I don't think most children learn formally until middle school.

Who knew those Zelda strategy guides would be so educational?

P.S. I am not knocking textbooks. We use some textbooks, and they can be a great tool. But I love it when learning happens in this way, naturally, as an outgrowth of the child's life and interests. It is one of the very best things about homeschooling.

Question

A few days ago I saw this on Facebook and it made me laugh, so I reposted it.



I have seen a few other people posting and/or "liking" it, but I have also found myself wondering if it is insensitive, making fun of something that ought not be made fun of. I was once pilloried for using the word "retarded." I was not trying to insult; I actually used the word to mean "delayed" in reference to my own understanding of a concept. But I have learned my lesson and I now try to avoid that word at all costs because I am afraid I will use it incorrectly and again offend someone.

I see the "attention deficit" label thrown around a lot these days. Usually people are referring to their own difficulty focusing on tasks and seeing things through. Some of my friends jokingly talk about their "mommy-induced ADD" and once I even wrote a blog post about the phenomenon. My husband has a friend who self-deprecatingly calls himself "ADD boy" because of his difficulty sticking with the task at hand.

But Attention Deficit Disorder is a real, clinical problem with which real people contend, is it not? If that is the case, why is it okay for people to joke about it? Or is it not? Should we avoid making light of ADD (or Asperger Syndrome or depression or menopause or any number of challenges that have a physical basis) in the same way that we avoid using the word "retarded" for fear of hurting those who are, in a very real way, living with that very condition? And if we don't need to do so, why don't we? What's the difference?