And Dancing Waters

The Tropics

2011-07-12T11:30:00.001-05:00

Geesh! It's been forever since I posted anything here.

Since last I wrote, I sold my house (finally!) and moved in with my mom in Houston. Most of my life is now in storage. *chuckle* Still seeking that new church God has called me to. Fought my old cranky laptop to a well-earned rest and now have a new computer that I've been busy figuring out. Change! Love it. Hate it. But it's a constant, so I'm doing my best to learn to live with it.

Last year about this time, I commented that I'd noticed that I wasn't quite as hypersensitive to the potential threat of hurricanes as I had been in the previous years. Instead of constantly being sure I was near a tv for The Weather Channel's Tropical Update and wandering through the National Hurricane Center's website multiple times a day, I had found that I could even skip an entire day without feeling edgy.

This year, I've found myself at least roaming the National Hurricane Center's site 2-3 times a day, but for an entirely different reason.

It's DRY!

Much of Texas is under severe drought conditions, and the weather prognosticators in the area keep saying things like "When it gets like this, about the only thing which will break the drought is something tropical." I silently add "depression, just a nice, gentle depression, would be just fine". But I've found that their comments have once again put me a bit on edge and I'm straying back toward a mild obsession of keeping up with the tropics, wanting something to come, but being really picky about what that something is.

"Rain, rain" that some other day has arrived. It's okay if you want to come and visit for just a little bit and give this parched earth some much needed moisture.

Happy Dancing!

2011-03-15T18:44:00.002-05:00

Just got some wonderful news!

My friend and his wife from the previous post are well and together and busy helping their community by providing pizza and coffee for adults, popcorn and sweet tea for kids from their coffee shop.

Would that all of our prayers were answered in a similar manner. One of those questions for face-to-face with God, though.

In the meantime ...

Happy Dancing!

Devastation

2011-03-14T12:24:00.002-05:00

It's hard to imagine the effects of earthquake and tsunami on Japan, just as it is hard to imagine the effects of any natural disaster on a community. The pictures are mind-boggling and the continuing reports each strike a blow to the caring heart.

I have a friend who moved to Japan and got married last year. Initial (second-hand) reports were that he was (1) in a safe building on the 3rd floor before the tsunami hit, but was cold, hungry, and thirsty; and (2) he had made it to the coffee shop that he and his wife had opened at the end of last year. Unfortunately, his wife wasn't there and reports were that she was out driving in the flood waters looking for him.

That's the last we've heard from any of them.

Of course, they could be completely safe and back together, but unable to make contact with the "outside" world. That's not where the mind immediately jumps. It's frightening to be watching and waiting from the outside with no specific news to inform one's fears. I'm sure that my friends are just as frantic about getting news to family and friends as we are to hear it.

When I think back to Hurricane Rita and Hurricane Ike, major disasters of my own personal experience, my head says that it may take more than a week before contact is restored at an individual level for everyone. The question becomes one of finding ways to cope emotionally during that time of limbo.

Limbo in the midst of devastation.

Isn't that what the followers of Christ experienced after his crucifixion? Shock. Fear. Cowering in the upper room. Stunned. At sea. I hate being there in that emotional uncertainty.

Yet there was Good News! for those disciples, and for us. While I appreciate and rely on the certainty of God's grace for life after life, I also selfishly want to experience the good news of life in this life for my friends, and for all of those whose lives have been devastated, even if I don't know any of them.

And in the meantime, prayers arising! for the survivors and victims' families, for rescue workers, for those trying to restore order in the midst of chaos, for those awaiting news, for those who need hope, for those who are hungry, cold, thirsty, at risk, for all of these and more ...

Alarm Clock

2011-02-25T09:37:00.002-06:00

I have a very strange alarm clock.

When I'm snoozin' and cruisin' and don't necessarily need to get up at a certain time, the thing religiously chirps, just once, at 8:28am. It doesn't buzz or make its usual alarm sound. Just a quick chirp. Just enough to break through my slumbers and startle me into awareness.

Now, if I happen to come to awareness at 8:26am and pretend to sleep until 8:28, it doesn't make a sound. I've tested this over a several day period and awareness = no chirp, slumber = chirp.

I haven't the foggiest idea of why it does this. Like most electronics, I understand them just enough to be dangerous and not enough to make any sense of them whatsoever.

It would even make a bit of sense if the clock was actually set to go off at 8:28am and it made the noise whether it was actually set to "alarm" or not.

But no.

The darned thing's set for 8:45am! (Don't remember why I set it for that time, but that's what it says.)

Any suggestions? I'm totally perplexed by this phenomenon!

Skating

2011-01-30T19:03:00.002-06:00

For many years, I skated and taught artistic roller skating. You know, like the Olympic ice skating. I did the compulsory figures and, whenever I had a partner, dance. Never did better than regional championships, but I enjoyed it.

So, of course, over the years I watched ice skating regularly, attending all the local ice shows and goading the stars into doing their more difficult jumps, judging competitions from the comfort of my couch, and so on.

Then everywhere you turned, there was some kind of ice skating competition on tv. Fakey professional competitions. Nationals. Worlds. More fakey pro/am competitions. Overkill!

At that point, I quit watching anything more than an occasional glimpse of a competition here and there. Over the years what I saw was mostly average with little spark or excitement.

I did notice a couple of things. Ice dancing was rapidly becoming pairs skating with slightly lower lifts and men's singles had become a race to see who could do the most sloppy quads. Nope! Not for me!

This weekend the boredom factor around here was so high that I paused for longer than a few seconds on the televised National Ice Skating competition. And I was just in time for the inane spotlight pieces where each competitor rambles on in front of a camera for 2-3 minutes. YUCK!

Then the routines began. Ladies short program. Not bad, at least not the competitors I saw.

Next there was a special piece on the people who stand behind the JUDGES and tell them what each of the program elements are and whether they were completed correctly.

HUH?!?!?!

There's this part of me that understands the desire for a bit of objectivity in a sport that is largely subjective. But really? Shouldn't the judges KNOW what the competitors are doing and whether they've done it well or not?

I almost fled the scene in horror.

Remember me commenting on the boredom factor at my house yesterday afternoon?

Yep. Stayed around a bit longer. Just in time to see what they've done to ice dancing. Adding freestyle to the compulsory dances? Twizzles? SPINS??? GAH!!!

I think I'm declaring a permanent moratorium on watching ice skating.

(Probably not. I suspect there'll come a day when the boredom factor around here hits double digits again and I'll get suckered once again.)

But I sure do miss the good old days of ice skating!

You know, I'm really not completely averse to change and progress. But this doesn't feel like progress at all. *sigh*

(And, yes, I'm allowed to be contrary. Lifts on Dancing with the Stars and So You Think You Can Dance are just fine. Just leave the pairs skating out of ice dance, thank you very much!)

Weirdness

2011-01-28T12:45:00.002-06:00

Well, at least a little bit of weirdness.

The past three Fridays I've gone out to the mailbox at the usual time, lifted the lid, swished my hand around inside (it's too high for me to just look), and come out with ... nothing! Just to be sure, I've gone back and checked later, closer to sunset and ... nothing! (Well, not today on the sunset thing. It's still lunchtime.)

Has someone declared a Friday mail moratorium? I'd think that'd be a dumb day for a moratorium. Saturday makes more sense than Friday. At least, then, there'd be a whole lot of businesses closed and not awaiting mail.

Maybe someone's just trying to drive ME crazy by not delivering mail on Friday. I know I haven't dropped completely off the map, because I've continued to get mail on other days, usually.

Weirdness.

Now yesterday's mail came with some treasure. In God's unending comedy, I won a "date night". Yes, happily single, solo me won a date night. Pretty nice shekels for it too. So, I'm planning to take me and myself for a spa day/overnight somewhere. Not sure where yet, but I've some research to do.

Weirdness.

It's also shorts weather today. All right! I'll admit that far Southeast Texas doesn't tend to get particularly cold during the winter months. But shorts?! I'd turn on the a/c, but I'm not especially uncomfortable and don't want to waste the energy.

Weirdness.

All in all, I'm feeling just a bit off-kilter. Nothing radical. Just not quite normal, if that makes any sense at all. I'm ready to move, take on new tasks, meet new people, get things going again. And, yet, I feel "flat", not three-dimensional in an emotional sense. I'm looking forward to the day when I figure out where God's calling me to be and start the new work ahead of me.

Then, maybe in the midst of the weirdness to come, I won't feel so weird!

Hate When That Happens

2011-01-21T11:15:00.003-06:00

This morning, as I was slowly returning to consciousness, I had a really nice little blog post plotted in my brain. Then the brain got distracted by other thoughts. Now I can't for the life of me remember what I was going to post.

Hate when that happens!

Wonder if going back to bed would help any.

Nah! Probably not, but it's worth a try. See ya later!

Greedy Banks

2011-01-10T16:50:00.002-06:00

In today's mail, I got a letter notifying me that, starting next month, my free checking account will now have a $9/mo fee attached to it, unless I have a direct deposit of $300/mo or more or maintain a $1500 average balance each month.

So I jumped online to see what else is out there. The best rate I could find was $5/mo, free with direct deposit or that pesky $1500/mo. Other banks are tying their free accounts to a certain number of debit card purchases per month. Sorry, but the Luddite in me comes out big time with debit cards. They don't have the protections built into them yet to encourage me to risk my limited funds.

Now, if you have plenty of buckos to leave laying around a bank, there's no fee involved. Banks stumble over each other with offers of this, that, and the other.

Yet those whose financial situations are already precarious must now scrape up additional income to maintain some security in dealing with their money.

Changing banks may not be an option, either. If your credit rating isn't pristine, banks may refuse to open a new account for you. Doesn't matter if your financial situation may be the result of the sagging economy and persistent unemployment levels.

And what if your employer doesn't do direct deposit? That will likely be the case once I receive a call to a new church. How many of those on the fringe financially are able to maintain a $1500 average balance?

Banks received a major boost on the backs of all Americans with the TARP supports. Now they're climbing once again on the backs of those least able to afford it through increasing use of fees.

*sigh* Yes, I understand that banks are businesses. Doesn't ease the frustration involved in trying to make ends meet and survive with limited income, nor eliminate the sense that the people with most of the money in the first place are trying to gather even more onto their already full plates.

Is It Just Me?

2011-01-05T12:35:00.002-06:00

I've had my house on the market for a year now with nothing more than quick nibbles. The most frequent reason the potential buyers tend to say no? They want wood floors, not carpet.

Excuse me! I didn't particularly like the carpet or the wall colors the house had when I bought it, but that didn't stop me from buying the house. I liked the floor plan and the neighborhood and the price. I figured that if I didn't like something about the decor I could change it. And that's exactly what I did when I had the chance!

Now, I'm looking at renting the house. A property management person just came through and gave me an estimate for what I might be able to get. You know what she said would cause problems with renting the house? You've got it! The color of the carpet!!

Excuse me! You're RENTING! What difference does it make what color the carpets are (or the apparent age of the kitchen cabinets, for that matter)? Does the floorplan work for you? Is the property in good shape? Is the house in a good neighborhood? Are you getting good value for the rent you're paying?

GAH!!

Is it just me? Or are people becoming more irrational about wanting others to fix things to their liking before they're willing to even consider making a move? It just doesn't make sense.

Casting About and Other Things

2010-11-21T10:55:00.002-06:00

First, the sad news.

On Friday, as I looked at The Penster, she gave me this pleading look and I could no longer in good conscience keep her at home as she slowly lost her dignity and became less comfortable. So I called the vet. At about 2:45 Friday afternoon, Penny Penelope Penny-lope peacefully and quietly returned to wholeness.

On the way to the vet's, she gave me a couple of patented Penny smiles and absolutely insisted on walking into the building and back to the room. I was with her the entire time. It was probably the first time ever that a vet was able to listen for her heartbeat without having to chase her around the table.

I sure miss you, my faithful, flop-eared friend!

But life goes on and I'm continuing to live into new experiences.

Earlier this week, I went to the orthopedist about my non-cooperative ankle. It's been paining me for months and the first treatment option for my acute tendinitis didn't do diddly for me.

The next plan of attack? Total immobilization for 4 weeks.

EEP! I now have a bright purple cast on my left leg. Good thing it's my left ankle. Driving would be a real problem if it were my right one.

I've never had a cast before, and would just as soon not ever have another one. It's a walking cast, so there's this boot to attach whenever I plan to walk around. Plus, I never realized just what being lopsided does to a body. My right ankle is grumping about all the extra work it's having to do. Hope it doesn't end up wanting a cast too.

Taking a shower and getting dressed has a whole new dimension to it, as well. Fortunately, I'm quick in the shower. One short shower a day was what the doctor said. To make up for it, it takes most of the day for the cast (well, the lining inside the cast) to dry out and quit soaking whatever it's up against.

Finding a comfortable position for foot/cast and body, whether seated or in bed, is a real pleasant experience, too (she said sarcastically). I'm beginning to wonder if I'll have a permanent cast imprint on my right leg, since crossing my leg over at the knee is one of the resonably comfortable options available to me. Even wrapping the darned cast in a towel doesn't seem to circumvent the dents.

Well, I guess I'll quit grumbling for now and see what I can do to enjoy the lovely day we seem to be having.

There's this really ambitious squirrel who keeps looking in my sliding glass door, wondering if there's a good place on the other side to stash the nut s/he's carrying. Nope! Don't think I'll let him/her in. But it is fun to watch her/him scurrying around on my patio.

Wonder what's next on the horizon ...

To Penny

2010-11-17T11:04:00.003-06:00

On Saturday, when The Penster and I returned from an overnight trip, I was a bit worried about her, since she hadn't eaten hardly anything at all in almost two days. I managed to pique her appetite and Penny ate her evening meal and her favorite dog biscuit.

That night, she had quite a bowel problem. Poor dear! I cleaned up the mess and worried about her some more. Then, while I slept, she threw up everything she had eaten earlier and on Sunday she wasn't even able to keep down water. Ever since, Penny has refused all food and only drinks when I offer water to her by hand. The vet gave her medicine to calm her innards, which seems to have worked, but I think she has decided it's time to let go.

My dear friend still gets up and totters to her usual resting places, depending on what room I'm in, and responds to noises and touch. We've also managed a few short forays up and down the street in front of the house. But I don't think she will be with me much longer.

We've had 15 marvelous years togethers. She's the dog of my ordination and has seen me through good years and rough ones. Her favorite pasttimes were stealing used kleenex, eating used socks and underwear, and walking together through the neighborhood. Penny never was much of a snuggly dog, unless there was a thunderstorm banging around. Then she wanted to sit on your lap and climb as high as possible!

But life has become difficult for her in the past six months or so. She no longer leaps up on furniture and her problems with the few spots of linoleum in the house have grown exponentially. Those old bones and joints just aren't working like they're supposed to. For the past month or two, eating hasn't been on her high priority list either. Her hearing and eyesight are about what one might expect of a grande dame of 105 dog years.

And so ... I've been letting her go over the last few days. Petting her, doing whatever she feels up to, crying copious tears, telling her I love her and it's all right to let go and be at rest in a place where she is once more whole and vigorous and young.

Life won't be the same without her. It never is. But I'll remember the good times: the stolen lunch meat, sitting side by side on the recliner, playing "foot", the time she actually caught the squirrel, and hours spent in friendly companionship.

To Penny Penelope Penny-lope
Black and white puppy
Faithful, quirky, brown-eyed friend
Furry little thief!

The End of an Era

2010-11-07T14:00:00.002-06:00

Well, sort of.

Daylight savings time has ended once again ... and will be starting up again sometime next year.

This is the "fall back" one. I usually have much better luck with this one, except for the time I set the clock forward an hour instead and arrived at church TWO hours early. Fortunately, I lived across the street from the church and could slink back to the house without anyone noticing.

My grandpa, who was a farmer, didn't particularly have anything good to say about daylight savings time. From his perspective, the cows wanted to be milked at the same time each day and it didn't matter whether the clock said 5am or 4am.

When I lived at my mom and dad's house, we had a wonderful cocker mix named Little Bit. Regular as clockwork, she ate her half can of Pard with a two dog biscuit reward for completion at 5:00pm. It would take us about two months to get her to wait until the new 5pm. Once "trained", at fallback time, she would eat at what was now 4pm (to her little mind) and then come back for a second meal at what she was convinced was 5pm.

Confusing stuff!

I know my body wrestles with the time change in each direction. True, it's worse when we "lose" an hour; however, whichever way the clock changes, I end up out of sorts for about two weeks.

Doesn't help any that the clock on my microwave won't adjust to the new setting no matter what machinations I've tried (short of turning the power off, that is). Guess I'll have to wait until the next power outage, random as they are. Won't stop me from grumbling about it though.

*grumble grumble grumble*

Human

2010-10-10T15:05:00.003-05:00

Quite an interesting morning at worship today. While I'm in between churches, I've been doing occasional pulpit supply and have a regular service with a nearby church on the second Sunday. They don't have a pastor and I lead worship and celebrate Communion with them. It's a cool, neat little group and I really like being able to celebrate Communion.

This morning I added an unusual twist to the service ... I almost fainted.

It was a bit hot up in the pulpit and I almost lost it once before the sermon. But my worship assistant turned the ceiling fan up and I managed to cool off and made it through the sermon.

Then came Communion.

I made it about 1/3 of the way through the Communion Prayer when I started getting really hot again and began to wonder if I could stand up through Communion. I found a place to sit and attempted to carry on. Didn't make it too much further before I decided that, Nope! This isn't going to work and worship came to a screeching halt.

What a wonderful group of people!

They brought me cool cloths and water. Wouldn't let me move. One of them had a glucose test meter, so we checked to see if that were the problem.

We finished Communion and worship with me sitting on the floor and everyone in a circle around the Communion table.

Then, one of them drove me home while her husband followed us.

I've always known I was human, but this is the first time it's physically (as in my health, not one of my fabulous bloopers) gotten the best of me during a worship service.

And now I'll go down in history as the pastor who fainted in worship. *chuckle* The Spirit at work, huh?

Negative Space

2010-10-06T11:35:00.002-05:00

I seem to be in negative space at the moment. You know, that area around and between objects in art where there just "isn't".

I'm between positions ... and have been for almost a year and a half. I'm sort of between homes, since my house is on the market and it is and isn't mine.

I am neither fish nor fowl nor ...

Negative space is an odd place to be. You are part of groups, but tend to feel disconnected from them. "Let's get together sometime." But sometime never seems to materialize. There is an element of non-belonging which makes your ideas and contributions a bit suspect, no matter how valid they may be.

It's part of why my poor little blog has been ignored recently. It's hard to focus on negative space.

But when you do, there may be something incredible to discern. I've always been able to see both the faces and the vase, or the hag and the beautiful lady, or the people and the moth.

Maybe I just haven't found what I'm supposed to see yet. I've never been any good at drawing, but you often hear the art teacher tell the students to draw what isn't there. For example, color in the space around the legs of the chair, until what's left is what you were trying to draw - a chair.

Negative space isn't necessarily a bad place to be, but I'd really like to find my way to something positive for a while. Yes. I think I'd like a metaphorical "chair". Not to sit on, mind you, but to stand on and shout to the world, "WOOHOO! I'm not just the outlines anymore!"

Perception vs. Fact

2010-08-30T11:14:00.002-05:00

Fact: I'm seriously directionally challenged. North. South. East. West. Yeah, right! Isn't east on your right-hand side, west on your left, north to your front, south to your back? (I know! I know! Don't remind me about sunrise and sunset. It just doesn't work.)

I've only lived in one place where my directional sensibility tended to match fact. In Austin, if I knew where the river and I-35 were, I could orient myself without too much trouble. The directions "felt right".

I've lived in my current house for (more or less) six years. In my mind, south has been out the front door (and, NO! I don't have to be consistent!), north out the back, east has been to the right as I face the door from inside the house (please note prior statement about consistency) and west to the left. It took a great deal of time and many evenings with the sun glaring in my face as it set for me to be cognitively aware that right equals west. It still doesn't "feel right".

I've watched incredible thunderstorms out my back door and wondered how friends were doing in Silsbee and Lumberton, to the north of Beaumont, and then been perplexed when they hadn't the foggiest idea of what I was talking about.

It's only been recently that I've begun to suspect the facts: The back of my house is south, the front of my house is north, right equals west, and left equals east. It does make figuring out the current radar on The Weather Channel a bit more precise.

How'd I begin to make this shift? It happened when weather.com made their "Weather in Motion" app interactive and you could see the weather coming at you based on the neighborhood streets. If you start with the long view where, for example, a storm is coming off from the Gulf of Mexico, and move it in closer and see that it's heading toward your house from Interstate 10 and College, then that makes the storm a phenomenon headed your way from the southwest! AMAZING! Still doesn't "feel right", but it's fact.

I wonder in what other ways I let my perceptions skew the facts. Do I use them to prejudge people and situations? Do I take "fact" and continue to discount it because my "perceptions" contradict them? I certainly hope not, but it's obvious that the potential is there, since north, south, east, and west (and variations thereon) are clearly fact as humanity has established that fact. Sure does open possibilities for reflection, doesn't it?

Healing

2010-08-27T12:16:00.002-05:00

Five years ago, not today but close to it, disaster entered my life. While my home was not directly affected by Hurricane Katrina, Katrina was the storm that led the way. As the storm barrelled toward the eastern Gulf Coast, I was preparing for a much needed vacation. My plans were for some time at Mom's, followed by a visit to some friends in Austin. Gasoline prices were heading upward and money was tight, so my goal was simply a break from the ordinary in a fiscally responsible way.

Thousands of people were fleeing westward, and my church members were helping as best they could with the organizations that were helping the evacuees. With so many people flooding into the Beaumont area, it didn't make sense for me to come home and add to the confusion. So I ended up watching in horror as Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, causing massive destruction, and then as the people of New Orleans were in a life and death struggle with the floodwaters from the levee system breach. I aided as best I could from my perch in Houston; however, it could never be enough.

Still stunned by the devastation Katrina left in her wake, a few weeks later, I left on a trip to a meeting in California. From my Sacramento hotel room, I made phone calls to church members, talked with Mom as she debated evacuation and what to do with my two critters she was critter-sitting, and watched helpless and in shock as Hurricane Rita came to shore, ripping through our community and causing more massive destruction.

Upon returning all the way home, I found my house had been visited by one of my friendly backyard trees wanting to get away from the whipping winds. Restoration took almost two years, more because I couldn't get contractors to bid on the work than because the damage was that severe or that the insurance company wasn't supportive.

From the point when Her Horribleness (Rita) came ashore, one of the characteristics of PTSD has been prominent in my life: during hurricane season, I've been hypervigilant about tropical waves, tropical depressions, tropical ANYTHING, and have found myself constantly checking the National Hurricane Center website and the Tropical Update on The Weather Channel during every waking hour.

That is, until this year. Don't get me wrong. I still check the National Hurricane Center daily. I still watch the Tropical Update on The Weather Channel. However, if I miss one, I don't get antsy. If there is something to report in the Atlantic tropics, I can calmly assess it, see what the projections are, and then go about my business ... mostly.

There is healing in this. It is completely appropriate to watch for and be prepared for potential hurricanes. Yet it's good to know that watching for hurricanes in the Gulf is not the only thing I want/need to do. Recovery from disaster takes time. I just never realized how much time.

Five years! And I believe I'm just really beginning to get on the other side of the chaos. True, there have been two hurricanes in the area since Her Horribleness roared through town, one of them a rather nasty character. It's certainly given me a better perspective on how we deal with catastrophic change and how long it may take for true healing to begin.

Oh! Gee! It's almost 50 past the hour! Guess I'd better get today's fix of the Tropical Update. But then, I'll probably be good to go until tomorrow.

So Much Has Happened ...

2010-08-08T17:12:00.002-05:00

so little has changed.

Geesh! It's been about six weeks since I last posted anything here. Part of that time I was out of town. Part of it - well, my computer and I have been engaged in battle. I'm still not certain who won.

In any case, a six-week saga.

First up, I attended our denomination's biennial meeting on behalf of a national committee I served on for seven years. The denomination has undertaken the task of rewriting a portion of our Book of Order, which provides the polity our denomination operates under. It has been a major work and much that is good has been done.

The committee I served on had some concerns that particular issues related to diversity and inclusiveness had not been adequately addressed, however. I was invited to do some work for the committee which required me to attend our main meeting and basically do some politicking. New territory for me. We didn't get everything we wanted (who does?), but we accomplished most of the really important things. 'Twas good!

That was followed by a quick whirlwind trip for an interview in Michigan. Wonderful congregation doing really good stuff. Not call. That's ok. It's good to check these things out. "Call" is such a difficult thing to discern sometimes. Face to face is the only way to do it. I wish them all the best in their search for a new pastor.

Once home, I got clipped by a nasty stomach virus. Must have picked up something on one of those flights I took. YUCK! And I've preached at a couple of local churches. And I've continued to search for a new church to serve, while trying to find some way to earn buckos in the meantime. And I've done local committee work, while trying to sell my house. Plus, I was felled by what turned out to be a slow-dying modem keeping me from making contact with the rest of the universe, while battling my computer which decided that I needed to reinstall the hard drive ... twice!

And I'm still basically back where I was before all these important, busy things happened.

Still job-hunting. Still trying to sell my house. Still living in faith.

This morning's epistle lesson was a good one for me today. Hebrews 11:1-16. "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for; the conviction of things unseen." Then there's the reminder that Abraham and Sarah did some serious wandering in faith. They weren't sure where they were headed. They just went the direction God pointed.

Feels pretty familiar at the moment.

Then, when everything seemed really lost and hopeless, the ancient and barren Abraham and Sarah had their lives filled with "laughter" - Isaac.

I needed that message.

Doesn't stop me from feeling impatient. Abraham and Sarah wandered through impatience as well. Maybe something has been accomplished afterall. I'm sure it'll be easier to see in the rearview mirror.

In the meantime, I'll continue to live by faith and not by sight, and rest in the assurance of things hoped for; the conviction of things unseen.

Go Away, Alex!

2010-06-26T12:04:00.002-05:00

For many reasons, I'm hoping that Tropical Storm Alex disintegrates as it goes over the Yucatan Penninsula. Of course, I wish no harm to those who live on the penninsula. I just want that puppy to fade away into nothingness before it hits anyone.

Doesn't look like that's going to happen, though.

Besides my real concern over the current oil spill recovery operations and what effect a tropical storm or hurricane will have on the environment, hurricane season is a weird time for me. At some level, there's a bit of excitement. Hurricanes are somewhat unpredictable beasties and I like trying to outguess where they're headed and what they are going to be like. Don't want to be anywhere near anything stronger than a mid-range Category 2, but do find myself drawn to watching them.

They also scare me. I find myself being hypersensitive to everything about what might happen, especially since Hurricane Rita sent a tree through my den and kept me out of the house for about 2 years. I'm not panicked. I'm certainly not really ready for staying in the house if a hurricane hits, although I do have some things to help me through. And it won't take too long to toss together an evacuation box and some clothes and things for the dog to head out of town, if needed. Nice thing about hurricanes is that you can see them coming and have time to prepare.

What's making this a more anxious time for me is that I'm supposed to head out of town while my mom watches The Penster. Last time that happened while a tropical storm was barely forming many miles away, it turned into Her Horribleness and I was stuck 1500 miles away from home, while Mom and the dog were caught up in evacuate or stay or what mode.

As one might expect, the dog really doesn't like major storms, which upsets Mom. Before I left the last time, Mom said, "You aren't really going to leave, are you? There's a hurricane coming." It was an itty, bitty tropical storm, just barely named at that point, so I left. Mom was right.

Don't know what Mom will say about this one, and I really, really need to be at the meeting I'm headed to.

So ...

GO AWAY, ALEX!

In Remebrance of Dad

2010-06-20T22:08:00.002-05:00

Today is Father's Day in the United States. It's always a bit of a bittersweet day for me. My dad died about 11 years ago, and he always was a bit of an enigma.

I don't really remember this myself, but the family stories tended to be along the lines of me following my dad around like a puppy when I was young. He was a scientist, and an inventor. I do kind of remember "helping" him with his experiment to pull clean water from the air. I'm not sure he ever got it to do exactly what he wanted it to, but that's the kind of stuff he worked on.

Dad was a mathematical physicist and worked most of his employment life with NASA on the Apollo and Skylab programs. He retired about the time the shuttle program got going, partly because NASA was giving incentives for employees to retire early and partly because he disagreed with the direction NASA was taking. I never knew it at the time, but Dad had several patents to his name, government stuff but still in his name.

Dad was a nuts and bolts kind of guy. If he couldn't see it, feel it, hear it, taste it, smell it, then it probably didn't exist. Feelings were never an option around Dad. I recall being quite mortified the day Dad marched out onto the field to claim me from drill team rehearsal because we had gone over the alloted time. He even went up the food chain to the school board, so the teacher saw him coming and called me off the field. Devasting when you're a bit of a dorky teenager, just barely at the fringes of being part of the cool crowd. Didn't matter. It was time to go, so we went.

Yet there came the day when my marriage collapsed into a puddle, and I called home, and the first words out of Dad's mouth were, "We're on our way. What do you need us to do?"

Dad didn't really go in for saying "I love you", or much of anything along those lines. It took me years to realize that he did "I love you", rather than saying it. If there was something that needed fixing, and Dad was around, it got fixed. And there was no escaping the regular weekly call to find out how the week had gone.

The man could be absolutely infuriating about some things, had a dry sense of humor that you had to watch out for, and was far from perfect even though he did the best he could, but I miss him.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Maunderings on a Saturday Morning

2010-06-19T10:44:00.003-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I thought I'd just ramble a bit. Just so the poor dear hasn't thought I've forgotten it, you know.

Today's going to be a scorcher. When I let The Penster out at 9:30 this morning, the heat and humidity was almost a solid wall hitting me in the face. Even the dog wasn't her usual energetic self when returning to the coolness of the house after the heat got hold of her. I have a feeling that our evening ramble is going to be closer to midnight than we ordinarily venture out. It's a good neighborhood, though, so it should be okay.

The house is beginning to look barren and no longer mine. It's not sold yet, but I'm continuing the process of emptying the place. Last weekend, it was suggested that I paint the entrance foyer something other than its exuberant yellow. I've known for some time that I'll probably have to paint the walls some blah color, but was hoping to not actually be living in the house when that happened. My son's coming home next week to provide the labor, and I already have the paint, so that's not a problem. I could do it, but can't bring myself to color over the walls I so carefully painted after Her Horribleness roared through and made a mess of my house.

But the painting's why the house is beginning to actually look barren. So far, much of what I've removed to storage has been hidden in cabinets. Now the rogues gallery has come down off the walls and many of my pictures are in boxes waiting to be hauled off to a drab and barren little room filled with other boxes. I haven't pulled them all down. Don't have enough boxes of the right size for that. But it is still a bit of a jolt to look at the places where the pictures have been and see only blank wall.

And then, what if there's a hurricane before I get everything to wherever my new place ends up being? ACK! I have no way of burrowing through the boxes to find my boxed up picture albums and framed pictures. All I can do is hope that they survive in storage. Now, of course, this may be a ridiculous fear. After all, I wasn't able to do anything before Her Horribleness came through town in 2005 and nothing happened. Loss of life is obviously much more devastating than losing some pictures, yet there is a sense of continuity which goes with having them around to look at from time to time. When I move from one place to another, it's nice to have my rogues gallery and other art (pictures my son made in elementary school, of course) to make the new place "home".

I'll live. But I'm not happy about it at the moment!

Manana, I have an early morning drive up to Lufkin to preach. It's about a 2 hour drive and is through reasonably nice territory, that is, there are trees and hills, not flatland and scruffy stuff. It's a neat congregation. I'm doing something with the kids for Father's Day. Just love it when a congregation picks up on my hinting and comes through! They've always done something for Mother's Day, but Father's Day just seems to slip off the map when it actually comes to doing something for the fathers. When I asked about doing something, my contact volunteered to help provide the 'something'! How cool is that?

This church isn't the only one I've encountered to honor mothers, but just gloss over fathers. Since I'm not the pastor of a particular congregation at the moment, I just hint broadly (well, actually say, "You know, we celebrate Mother's Day. What are you doing on Father's Day?") and see how it goes. When I've been pastor, I just boldly say, "What are we doing for Father's Day?" and then hang in there until something definite, and roughly equivalent to Mother's Day, is planned. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it! *chuckle*

Ah, well! We're headed dangerously close to afternoon here, and I've a couple of morning things to finish before we get there. Who knows? Someone may decide to look at my house this afternoon ... and I still have last night's dirty dishes to hide, er, deal with and put away!

Inane Plot Devices

2010-06-04T14:19:00.002-05:00

One might say that I watch too much tv. One would be right. Part of my tv watching is professional. That is, I watch some shows to keep up with what's happening in the world culturally and, thus, get some insight into the various groups of the congregations I serve. Part of what I watch is just for fun. The internal illogic of many of my viewing choices, though, could be considered convoluted enough to make the venerable Mr. Spock's Vulcan head spin. (One would probably admit that La Femme Nikita isn't Top Ten material for most pastors under any circumstances.)

While I recognize that fictional tv, even based-on-fact tv, operates with an element of unreality and generally has storyline movement that would make any expert in the subject cringe, I'm pretty much able to put such incongruencies aside and enjoy the general flow of the story. Of course, most of McGyver's duct tape and chewing gum problem-solving is unrealistic, but there was just enough element of the plausible to let it slide.

Then there's the truly inane.

There are two shows that I watch right now where the inane just slaps me in the face. For one, I just shrug and keep watching. The other just irritates me to distraction.

Each Tuesday, I turn the channel to Glee and watch the inanity begin. It's built on super-exploded stereotypes and inane plot devices that often lack any continuity, or rhyme or reason. What high school principal would hire a housewife with no degree as the school nurse? LAWSUIT!! (Plus the school board would probably fire him in a snap.)

Yet I come back week after week to watch the next episode. It's not my favorite show, but I enjoy the show choir routines. But, even in the midst of such outrageous inanity, when they get that one personal note, that one teaching moment, that one AHA! head nod, I pump my fist and go, "YES!!"

Then there's Royal Pains.

OK. I willing to overlook the HUGELY inane plot device which got Dr. Hank to the Hamptons. Sort of. The guy comes to the ER on his day off with an emergency patient he began treating on the street, and gets fired, and then blackballed, because he doesn't manage to save the life of a billionaire patient, patron of the hospital, who happens to have some bizarre complication once Hank gets to the hospital? C'mon!

While the reviews describe the show as a dramedy, there's more drama than comedy. But it's a light drama and reminds me of McGyver, so I've hung in there.

But last night was the second season premiere. Out of the clear blue sky, the love-interest hospital administrator gets hit with this incredible animosity from one of the physicians (special-guesty, award-winning star-type person). Completely out of proportion to anything in the scene. All of the sudden, hospital administrator has a phyicians' mutiny on her hands and her job is in jeopardy?

She fired a doctor who was representing the hospital at a charity event while clearly enebriated. Well, d'oh! Her soon-to-be ex-husband waltzes back into the hospital, manipulates himself a job at the hospital, tries all sorts of sabotage to get her to take him back, and, when she doesn't (btw - Good for her! No one should be expected to enter or reenter a relationship under such circumstances), he quits. And it's all her fault? C'mon!

I'm not quite sure why this rubs me the wrong way so strongly, but it does. Don't know if I'll hang in there a whole lot longer, though.

Maybe I should just get a life, instead.

The Mysterious Thud

2010-06-01T16:53:00.002-05:00

I've lived in this lovely house for over six years now. I'm not sure precisely when this started happening, but my best memory of a beginning is sometime after Hurricane Rita.

One calm, sunny day I was peacefully sitting in my home, minding my own business, when there was this loud BOOM! and the house quivered seemingly down to its foundation. Something must have hit the roof. I rushed outside and carefully studied the back of the house, where my trees are. All three of them were right where they belonged, no limbs missing, enjoying the sunshine.

After scratching my head, I headed to the front yard, where there are no trees, on the off chance that something truly weird had caused a limb to plop down on my house. Nothing.

Next stop? Move the car out of the garage so I could get a look at the attic. Nothing extraordinarily weird up there, even though there is weird stuff in the attic.

OK. Must be imagining things. Got my local handyperson to come and give things a look. He scratched his head, too, and decided it was nothing to worry about.

Over the years since then, I've heard this mysterious thud multiple times. No rhyme or reason to its occurence, except that it's always been during the day, generally in the afternoon, and the weather has been of the sort that doesn't lend itself to loud booms. Each time, I've rushed outside, scanned the roof and surrounding yards, scratched my head in befuddlement, and gone back inside.

Then there was today.

KABOOM! The house shuddered. Contrary to my usual approach, I ran out the front door to look at my roof and up and down the street. I wasn't the only one standing in my front yard looking perplexed. The gentleman two houses down said, "Did you hear that?! Do you see any trees down?" We both scanned the nearby houses and horizon. No down trees.

I said, "I'm going to check the back of the house!" He said, "Me too!"

We both ran through our houses and began looking at our homes and at the nearby houses. No down trees. We both shrugged, then went back into our respective houses.

At least I now know it's not my house that has a problem.

But just what is that mysterious thud?

In Memoriam

2010-05-31T15:11:00.002-05:00

Somehow it seems fitting that today is the one year anniversary of the final worship service of Westminster Presbyterian Church, Beaumont, TX. Admittedly, Memorial Day is a day when we remember those who have given their lives in service to the United States that we might live in freedom. We've not figured it out perfectly yet, but I'm grateful that we have the opportunity to work toward that goal.

The life and ministry of Westminster was an expression of our faith in Jesus Christ, one of those freedoms we have, and the ministry of healing the sick, helping the poor, and working for justice for those in need. She was a grand old lady, who touched many lives in her 129 year ministry.

I drove by the building today. It seemed appropriate. It hasn't changed a whole lot in a year, but then, it wasn't the exterior of the building that was weak. What was truly surreal was that the signs on the building haven't changed a bit. Worship services are still prominently posted and my name is still listed as pastor.

In some sense, I guess I am. I will always be the last pastor of Westminster. There won't be anyone else to take my place, to minister with her members, to share their lives as Westminsterites.

It has been a truly strange day. One whole year. Hard to believe it's been that long. Hard to believe it hasn't been forever.

Rest in peace, Westminster. Your work is finished, and it has just begun. I'm so glad you were a part of my life!

Of Language

2010-05-29T21:00:00.002-05:00

For the umpteenth time, I've heard this commercial for something that I simply haven't the interest in remembering. But there's this one line that catches my ear each time it's on. The commercial insists that the edible product is "made with real ingredients". Well, yeah! Whatever it is it's made of, they're ingredients. And if you're going to put them in your mouth, chew them up, and swallow them, they're real.

Oh! I'm not totally dense. I know what they're trying to say. Yet my brain wanders off into the real vs. fake ingredient tangent, so I'm not sure I've ever heard the name of the product being hawked.

Then, to amble off in the direction of accents, The Penster and I were taking our evening stroll in the cool(?) of the day. With it being a holiday weekend and somewhat reasonable temperatures, there were quite a few people outside visiting with each other and sharing transient pleasantries with passersby.

On the back leg of our circuit, we crossed paths with a gentleman headed to his car. I asked how he was doing. He said he would be much happier if it was cooler. I agreed. On the basis of about 8 words, he asked me if I was from Texas. !!!

Now I've lived huge hunks of my life in Texas. We moved here from Ohio when I was 2 and I didn't move to Oklahoma until I was 40. I only sojourned in Oklahoma for about 7 years, so you'd think there'd be a heavy dose of Texas in my accent. Those very early years, plus the fact that my parents grew up in Ohio/Pennsylvania/West Virgina, must have had a lasting effect on my accent.

I wonder just what it is that doesn't sound Texan to them?

Appeasement?

2010-05-28T10:43:00.002-05:00

It's that time of year again. Mother's Day has come and gone. Graduates are graduating. Students are applauding the end of school and dreaming up summer antics. Memorial Day weekend is happening.

I dig back into my memories and recall the annual disturbing pattern: day by day, sometimes hour by hour, once you get past Mother's Day, gasoline prices sneak upward. A penny here. A nickel there, and before you know it, gasoline prices are poised to reach their summer peaks and profits.

Sure, the companies take advantage of the least little bump or nudge or gallop of potential fiscal chaos throughout the year, whether caused by someone dampening a spigot in a foreign country or the natural calamity of a hurricane. But generally, regular as clockwork, you know when summer's about to start and the companies get ready for people to spend bucks for vacations.

But not this year.

Over the past week, ten days, it has seeped into my consciousness that gasoline prices haven't been tracing their usual trajectories. Two weekends ago, when I traveled to preach in other cities, I was thrilled to find a couple of stations where the price was less than $2.70/gallon. (Ok - I'm aware that that's really cheap in some parts of the world, and cheaper than it was during 'the great gas price crisis', but for my purposes at the moment, $2.75+ was the norm.)

I've been economizing by not driving unless I absolutely have to, so my encounters with gasoline prices have been somewhat intermittent. Over the past two weeks, though, my forays through the community have brought an odd phenomenon to my attention: gasoline prices have actually been headed downward. I went past one of my usual stops yesterday and the price was below $2.60/gallon! The day before the Memorial Day weekend starts? What's going on here?!

Seems to me that someone's trying to appease the driving community and keep them from thinking about things like the massive impact of the Deepwater Horizon explosion and oil spill, and potential outrage leading to a desire to develop alternative sources for energy and many of our products made of petrochemicals today. Guess they figure if they take a bit of a hit financially right now, it'll keep us addicted to the petrochemicals that inhabit huge chunks of our lives and ensure their own futures once the immediacy of the ecological catastrophe has slipped from our awareness.

Problem is - petrochemicals are not a renewable resource. We're going to be at the end of our ropes someday, even if it isn't within the next 50-100 years (just guessing at a timeline). Yet isn't this the perfect time to seriously refocus our creative resources to develop alternatives to the way we do so much today?

Lost jobs in the petrochemical industry? Well, yes. But there will be new jobs in whatever field evolves from research into alternatives to petrochemicals. I truly cannot imagine that whatever the alternative is will ultimately slice the number of jobs available to virtually nothing. New technologies tend to open new opportunities.

Don't quite know how to get large numbers of people onto the alternatives bandwagon, but did want to raise for consideration the question of who's to benefit from the recent slippage in gasoline prices and what we might do to avoid similar catastrophes in the future.

Ahhhhhhh, Spring!

2010-05-05T09:45:00.002-05:00

This morning is quite a beautiful day!

The sun is shining. The temperature is just perfect. And, in spite of future repercussions sinusally and insectally, I opened my unscreened patio door, just to enjoy the Spring-ness of the day.

The birds are tweeting. The idiot nearby woodpecker has once again decided that my aluminum patio cover has juicy bugs hidden in it. Quite the peaceful moment.

Then, what to my wondering ear should resound? The wafting music of ... no! it can't be! ... a marching band!

Awwwwwwww, c'mon! A marching band? The nearest marching band is two miles away over a busy freeway. I can't be hearing a marching band! Yes, I know. The sound carries well. My son was in a marching band. But at that distance, at absolute best, about all I'd hear would be drums. I had to be imagining things!

But wait! It's getting closer! Have to go check this out!

When I opened the front door, a car went by, then a school bus, obscuring the wafting notes. Hmmmmmmmm ... must have been imagining things. Then there was quiet. Well, the relative quiet of before, and, sure enough, the brass ... the drums ... they were indeed coming closer.

Scratching my head, I crossed the street and looked down toward the elementary school at the end of the block. There were brightly colored bodies lining the school side of the street. And, yes! The music was coming closer!

Soon, to join the wonderful sounds of a marching band, came a line of flag corps flags, then a line of tubas, then several more perfectly straight lines of brass, then drums, then cheerleaders, and several groups of children, and a car, and a policeman on a motorcycle at the end of the parade.

Looks like the elementary school had some sort of springtime parade this morning. So glad I got to enjoy it too!

Jesus Is Coming

2010-05-02T17:20:00.002-05:00

Well, that's what the decal in the back of the car's window said, and I'm in agreement with that thought. Don't know precisely when he'll get here, but he said he'd come back and I trust that.

Then there was the second line of that decal:

Look busy

Uh ... no!

You see, I believe Jesus looks for substance over appearances. If anything, appearances really seem to irritate him.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells his disciples and all who were listening to him, "Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you." (Matthew 6:1-6 NRSV)

So I take issue with that "look busy" part of the decal.

Stop and think about it. Jesus was interested in the essence, the motivations, the depth of why one does things. From his perspective, doing good things so other people will think you're a good person, even if that other person is Jesus, is not sufficient.

"Looks" aren't important.

Is your heart one that truly cares for the welfare of others? Are the actions you take intended to further the work Jesus began when he was among us? Do you love your neighbors as yourselves? Do you "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44 NRSV)? Tough stuff that Jesus asks us to do! And we're asked to do them not for appearances sake, but with hearts that seek the will of God and the betterment of those around us because it is the right and true thing to do.

So I'd change that second line of the decal:

Jesus Is Coming
Get Busy

Quasi Modo

2010-04-28T12:36:00.002-05:00

This has been a morning full of online serendipity.

I've been doing some work for the General Assembly Committee on Representation that I used to serve on and wanted to check up on some facts before etching them into the proverbial stone of an informed opinion to be presented at our upcoming national meeting. I'll try to avoid the technical stuff, because some of it is technical, and just stick to the serendipity. Wish me luck!

First stop? The committee's staff person. I wanted to be certain that I had the names of our denomination's non-geographic presbyteries. We don't have a lot of them and they are primarily Korean language-oriented. Found out I'd missed one - a Native American presbytery that had been in existence since the 1800s.

That led the staff person to some beetle-tracking. She learned about the history of the presbytery and how it's managed to remain a non-geographic presbytery over the decades. Really interesting stuff and it speaks to how the Native Americans have interacted with the white culture, and shows how much we have to learn from them about diversity and relationship and "being one in Christ".

It won't change my approach to my particular project, exactly, but it has informed the task and overall work.

Next? A change of direction.

I decided to figure out what scripture I'm preaching on this Sunday. One of those "EEP! It's already Wednesday and I haven't even started yet!" moments.

So I wandered to one of my sermon prep sites. Because I hadn't been preaching from the lectionary, it had been a couple of weeks since I'd strolled that direction.

In case you aren't up on some of the historic liturgy, the Sunday after Easter used to be (and is now being reclaimed) Holy Hilarity or Holy Humor Sunday. A celebration of God's laughter at death through the resurrection of Jesus. I've never quite pulled it off on the Sunday after Easter, but have encouraged my congregations to give Holy Hilarity a try in the summer. (Not quite as Presbyterian-threatening then. *chuckle*)

And what pops up? Quasimodo Sunday!

I'd never heard of it! I'm still doing some online trolling to find actual liturgies, but I think it'd be interesting. I couldn't figure out how Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame figured into the Sunday after Easter. Turns out that the name comes from the first two Latin words of the Roman Catholic introit for that Sunday found in 1 Peter 2: "Quasi modo geniti infantes" 'As if now we are newborn infants' (a free-range translation).

As if now ...

There's a lot in my life that is "as if now". Seems like a pretty good serendipitous place to be!

And the Sign Said ...

2010-04-23T19:22:00.002-05:00

... Last Call Ministries. Opening Soon.

I've gone past this building on the road from Houston to Beaumont on and off for over 30 years. For most of that time, this building has been one of the local watering holes in one of the itty-bitty towns along the way. It's been closed for the last couple of years.

Now I'm scratching my head.

Is this going to be a new bar? Or a new church? Either way, it's an interesting twist.

... 40 Water Baptisms in 2009!

This was the computer sign on one of the local non-denominational churches. Usually they post the names of speakers and worship times.

Now I'm scratching my head.

Does that mean that there weren't any baptisms "with the Holy Spirit and with fire" (Matthew 3:11)? I'm in kind of an off-center mood and, although I recognize what the church is going for, can't help but wonder a couple of things: (1) does that mean that if they had baptisms with the Holy Spirit and with fire, that they didn't happen during worship? and (2) did they get the first baptism and miss out on the second?

Why not just joyously announce 40 baptisms? Does it truly matter which kind of baptism it is? Good old Peter was finally convinced that Gentiles were to be baptized with water after the Holy Spirit descended on Cornelius and those with him listening to Peter. After all, baptism is a gift from God, whichever version you have.

... Cowboy Worship. Come join us!

I was driving to preach at a church about an hour away from home one Sunday. As I came up to the county's livestock auction barn, there was a young boy on his Shetland pony, rigged out in full cowboy regalia. Next to him, holding the sign, was his father (most likely). And several individuals were meandering around, some on horseback, some afoot, ready to ride the range after worship.

No head scratching here! Just broad smiles, and wish that I could have stopped in and joined that horse-y crowd as they worshipped God and the gifts of sky and range and critters big and small.

And the sign said ...

Alleluia! Amen!

Weathercasting ...

2010-04-10T11:22:00.002-05:00

... an inexact science.

This morning when I got up, I thought I'd check out the local forecast to plan out my day and the timing of the Penster stroll. Turned on The Weather Channel, just in time for Local on the 8s.

Current temperature - 68. Sunny. Local radar - big blob of rain slowly headed in the general direction of my house over the previous 3 hours, but not quite close enough to show up on the close in radar. Afternoon forecast? Abundant sunshine! HUH?

So I watched the Local on the 8s over the next couple of hours. Now that the storms are almost upon us, The Weather Channel has updated its forecast to "isolated thunderstorms with 30% chance of rain".

*chuckle* Great timing, guys!

Gray

2010-04-02T19:02:00.002-05:00

It's a gray day today, with a light rain. Actually, it started turning gray late yesterday afternoon. Nothing too unusual about that here in southeast Texas. Gray, rainy days and southeast Texas seem to go together.

However, this week is Holy Week, when Christians recall the last week of Jesus' life.

Last Sunday was a bright, sunshine-y day. The weather couldn't have been better. Just perfect for the drive to the Houston area to preach that morning and then take a late afternoon ramble with the Penster. Not a bad day for a Palm Sunday.

Then yesterday, Maundy Thursday, about the time the Penster and I took our early evening ramble, the clouds began to gather and the sun began to go into hiding. Somehow I associate that kind of weather with Jesus and the disciples heading toward that Last Supper together. Kind of like even the weather is aware that something is about to happen.

Then today. Good Friday.

It's been pretty gray all day. I checked the Weather Channel and the radar showed no rain in the area. So the Penster and I started our (almost) daily stroll about 3pm. The gray sky began to toss some mist toward the ground, and now there's this light rain, not quite drizzle, falling steadily.

I realize that we're not on Jerusalem Daylight Savings Time around here, but having the gray and the rain and all reminds me of the dark, uncertain, waiting time that the disciples experienced on that Black/Good day long ago. They didn't know it was Good yet. All they knew was that their hopes seemed to have been placed on a cross and left to die a horrible death.

It seems singularly fitting to wait in the gray along with the disicples. I don't know what my personal future will hold, but then, neither did the disciples. These last months have been waiting, healing, preparing for a future unknown.

So for now the world is waiting in gray.

But I live in a time of already, but not yet, and trust that there will be an Easter of knowing and sunshine and hope.

Easter Is a She

2010-03-22T11:22:00.003-05:00

And how, you wonder, do I know that?

A bright youngster at worship passed this info along to me.

The family had gone to one of the local fairs and, while there, had won (or purchased, I'm not quite sure which) a HUGE white and green balloon dog one and 1/2 times the size of its owner.

As the dog was being drug through the sanctuary, it's owner proudly proclaimed that the dog was named Easter. Grandma piped in with "Someone mentioned that it was getting near to Easter, so that's how it got it's name."

As to being a 'she'? Well, d'oh! Easter had on a pink shirt, so it must be a 'she'.

Then my brain flashed onto this, mostly unrelated, thought: I wonder how it would affect our understanding of Easter if we thought of it as a 'she event'.

Some people envision the Holy Spirit as the feminine aspect of God. Certainly the Spirit was involved in Christ's resurrection, so how might a feminine understanding of the resurrection affect our understanding of Easter and Christianity?

I haven't gotten any further in my own thinking than the question, so don't have anything further to add. But I think I'm going to do a but more pondering in this Lenten season.

And a little child, dragging a HUGE white and green dog balloon named Easter, shall lead them.

The Hassle

2010-03-09T12:20:00.002-06:00

I love the internet! I hate the internet!

I have several email addresses. Who doesn't? It helps me keep stuff separated so I can find things quicker. It keeps the inboxes less cluttered. And it allows me to let different kinds of information be available to different groups of people.

So guess what I'm spending today doing.

Setting up a whole slew of new email addresses through my gmail account because some scuzzy individual has hijacked one of my email addresses and is sending out "buy stuff" emails to my contact list.

What's even more irritating is that I reported the email to hotmail and got even more spam-mail sent under my email address.

I know I'm not responsible for what's happening and that there isn't anything I personally can do to eliminate the carp that's being sent, but I can't help but feel uncomfortable that people I know are getting these excreable emails under my supposedly safe name. Gmail seems to do a better job of dealing with these miserable trolls, so I'm ditching the compromised hotmail address.

In the process, though, I have a whole bunch of emails saved for various reasons and now have to transfer all of them to new addresses. It has taken me more than four hours to change the stuff I really want to keep over to new accounts. Now that I've transfered the saved emails, it's time to change ALL of the contact emails that I have directed to that address. Problem is, I can't remember all of the sites I've done that with. *sigh*

Back to repairing my internet id.

*leaves the page muttering imprecations against the miserable, excreable trolls who spend their time violating the internet identities of others*

As If ..

2010-03-08T10:55:00.002-06:00

it wasn't already quite apparent, I'm not cut out for the medical profession.

This past week, my mom had her defibrillator replaced with a newer model. So far, so good. I didn't have to be anywhere near needles being poked or iv's started or any of the other ooky medical things that can be done to help another human being become healthier. Outside of my encounter of the dorky kind with a hospital sliding door, the trip to the medical center was pretty uneventful.

I even did quite well when Mom decided to do things too quickly and the combination of pain meds, antibiotics, and not quite enough food made her light-headed enough to nearly pass out. Disaster averted, healing continues.

Then came the 48 hour point.

Forty-eight hours after the surgery, it was time to remove the gauze that had been attached with industrial strength tape and slightly imbedded in the staples used to close the incision.

EEP!

We did everything suggested to get that darned gauze removed without pulling on the staples, and there was still a 1/2-inch by 4-inch strip enmeshed. *cringe* Not wanting to encourage an infection or having the gauze become a part of the healing skin, I convinced my mom that a trip to a minor emergency clinic was in order.

An hour later, the physician's assistant came into the room, put on some gloves and ... voila ... three gentle motions later, completely removed the stuck gauze.

The medical profession dodged a bullet when I decided to become a pastor!

Comment Span

2010-02-27T09:45:00.002-06:00

Logged onto my computer this morning and strolled over to the email account where I get these sweet little emails saying someone has commented on my poor, forlorn blog. My eyes about popped out of my head when I saw that there were TWELVE new comments on various posts.

Then I opened the first email and it was gobble-de-garbage. Comment spam. YUCK!

How on earth did that happen? I've had this blog for four years now and was very careful to ensure that posters couldn't be anonymous when I did the comment settings. I also added word verification to the mix in an attempt to keep the bots out.

Looks like the bots have gotten smarter. It's obvious these are bot posts. All twelve happened within a 2-3 minute span. They all have the same "poster id" and all have the same text (if you can call it that).

There was no way I was keeping that stuff on my blog, even if the comments were only on much older posts. Who knows what search engine link might bring some otherwise interested person to a particular post? So I've just finished scrolling through my blog and deleting them. How totally irritating!

What's even more irritating, sort of, is that I'm now requiring that posts be moderated before they hit the screen. Not that I get that many posts in any given day, or week or month, for that matter.

Why can't these people just leave us alone? We weren't bothering them, were we?

I'm Responsible

2010-02-24T10:49:00.002-06:00

I really didn't plan it that way. I thought I was just doing things 'decently and in order' when I sent my application for COBRA insurance to the board that handles such things. I found out how much to send. I filled out the application. Enclosed a check for said amount. Sent the darned thing "return receipt requested" so I'd know it got there.

And it did.

My return receipt said it did. The board says it did. They even have proof! Praise God!!

The problem is that between the photocopy room where they made a permanent record of my check and the accounting room where the check would make a permanent dent in the amount owed ... well, it disappeared! Into thin air (or thick walls - I've always had this skewed belief that poltergeists squirrel away missing papers, hoarding them until some grand moment when they all burst from the walls. *chuckle*)

So, it's off to the bank to get them to stop payment on the missing check and writing a replacement check. The board's being really good about it and covering any fees the bank charges. (Yay, board!!) They also said I could include the amount in my next premium payment. Another good thing.

And the best thing? Because of me, they're changing the system so checks don't wander off into oblivion in the future.

Sometimes it feels good to be an instigator of change ...

... even if it was unintentional.

Absolutely Appalled

2010-02-19T09:06:00.002-06:00

On this, the morning after a pilot deliberately flew his small plane into an IRS building in Austin, I was checking news stories for more information and to confirm that fatalities and injuries were limited. In spite of the horrific nature of the act, I was feeling truly grateful that the numbers were so small, not like the Murragh building in Oklahoma City.

I scrolled down the page, looking for any information that was more current than the earlier links.

And there it was. The Austin Airplane game.

I couldn't believe my eyes, so I clicked on the link. Yes, less than 24 hours after a deliberate attack on a building with what had to be more than 200 innocent people in it, killing at least two, injuring around 11, there is a video game where you, too, can crash a plane into an IRS building in Austin.

I had hoped that the comments section underneath the initial link would be filled with "Sicko." and "How could you possibly?" and other expressions of outrage.

Wrong.

There were numerous comments praising the game, saying how "awesome" it is, and that they had "hit a car on the very first try" (not completely sure what that was about, but apparently taking out a car with even more innocents scores points). Out of the 41 posts on the first page, only 4 of the comments were about the tastelessness of the game. Most were ecstatic that someone had 'stuck it to the man' or that the IRS deserved it.

Absolutely appalling!

I'm still sitting here more or less in shock at the callous nature of the game's creators and those who revel in playing it.

Downy Time

2010-01-08T16:43:00.002-06:00

It's definitely time to break out the Downy Fabric Softener when I wash clothes. With the temps below 45, I have become a static electric generator powerful enough to keep a small town running for a week. (Well, not really, but it feels that way.) I'm tired of getting shocked whenever I touch anything, wood, the dog, the sliding glass doors, the curtains, ...

Oddly enough, I don't particularly mind the cold. It's the shock to the system that bothers me!

Surreal Moments

2009-12-09T09:03:00.002-06:00

The other day I rented a storage space to store my stuff when I'll ultimately have to move from my house. Now, I've rented storage space before. The usual kind with exterior access. This time, though, I rented a space in a "climate controlled" setting, so I could store my piano without any difficulty.

As the manager and I walked through the building to get to the space, I couldn't help but feel as though I'd wandered into another universe. There were rows and rows of white metal "rooms" with rows of green and orange and white doors residing under a white balloon-material roof. When we got to the assigned space and the manager opened the door, there wasn't a speck of dirt or dust or anything in it. Just three metal walls, a wire mesh top, a metal wall with a metal door in it, and a smooth concrete floor. I've never walked into a storage space that was as clean and almost sterile as this one was. The whole experience was a bit surreal. (Well, d'oh!)

On Sunday, my congregation held its "Gifting of the Final Fruits". It was a wonderful opportunity for them to 'play Santa Claus', just as they'd wanted to. There were 35 truly worthy organizations that received funds from the proceeds of the sale of the building and the balance of the church's endowment funds. It was well and beautifully done, in a meeting room of one of the local hotels. Media were present. Members gave introductions to each of the organizations and explained why they were significant. Photos were taken. Refreshments served.

And yet, it was a very surreal moment for me. I was and was not a part of the proceedings. I was and was not a part of that wonderful group of members. There was sadness in the loss, and joy in the accomplishment of this heart-wrenching task done with courage and grace. There was fear and impatience in the "what now?" moments of my own life. There was this really weird feeling that somehow, some way, this should have been happening in a church, while I realized that the ONLY place it could have really taken place was totally inaccessible. And yet ...

Then yesterday I was watch-listening to the tv while doing some other things around the house. It was commercial time and I hadn't hit the mute button. Soon across the room wafted the obnoxious voice of Billy Mays. He was touting one of these hands-free adapter thingys for cellphones and went on and on about how wonderful this gizmo is. (Of course, that's his job.) Then, a woman's voice came on air and said, "Billy, you're needed in the production office in twenty minutes." To which, Billy replied, "No problem! I'll see you shortly."

Immediately my mind jumped to "Oh! I hope she isn't afraid of ghosts!" It may be more of a problem than he thinks for Billy Mays to get to that meeting, since he died several months ago. I can't imagine why the company decided to keep that particular ad. Definitely another surreal moment.

In fact, even writing about these surreal moments, feels a bit surreal. Wonder whether it's the moments, or just me!

Stereotypes

2009-11-08T12:09:00.004-06:00

It's funny how stereotypes come up and bite you in the butt when you're least expecting it.

This morning I did pulpit supply for a small church in Vidor. It was the second time I'd filled their pulpit and presided at Communion for them.

Now, for those of you who don't know about Vidor, it's a small community outside of Beaumont where, for many years, the Ku Klux Klan had its headquarters, or it was a pretty powerful force at any rate. When I first lived in Beaumont, I was told by an African American friend that we could not travel east in the same vehicle. It simply wasn't safe for either of us. Even today, Vidor has a reputation of being pretty much a 'white enclave', and, to be truthful, is still strongly racially influenced.

Of course, I had my own blinders on and expected the congregation to be as racially segregated as, unfortunately, way too many congregations are at the worship hour. The first Sunday, I'd been somewhat surprised at the racial-ethnic diversity among the worshippers, but had passed it off as the multi-generational diversity of one particular family and assumed that the segregated mindset of the community as a whole would exist in the congregation.

This morning, I waded into some deep territory for those who prefer "separate, but equal". In my prayers of the people, I included Major Hasan, a Muslim and someone who committed an incomprehensible act of violence, killing and wounding many, asking for God's concern whether this act was committed through mental breakdown or misguided religious zeal. Then I waded in even further by quoting the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. in my sermon. Inside I cringed and fully expected to be received with complete silence and censure.

Not so.

God works in mysterious ways and opens the eyes of our assumptions when we most need a kick in the butt. This little congregation has more racial ethnic diversity than the congregations I've pastored ever dreamed of! Even though the one family was absent today, there were others in attendance whose racial ethnic backgrounds were not Caucasian. And those who were, welcomed my words and seemed to take them to heart.

Serves me right for not expecting the unexpected!

Grocery Store Annoyances

2009-09-14T17:06:00.003-05:00

Don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I dislike grocery shopping ... intensely. It is, however, a necessity, so I shop.

Today I headed to one of the local provisioning establishments. All I needed were a few items, but I went while slightly hungry (or I wouldn't have bought anything at all) and spent more time than I'd planned at the store. A bit more money, too, but we won't go there.

Grocery stores tend to have 'background music', probably fine tuned to get you to buy more. The establishment I shopped at today is a national chain and has its own satellite radio station which plays over the speaker system.

Besides music, it has public service announcements from time to time to let the shoppers know what a wonderful company it is. Today's psa backfired, at least for me. "One year ago, Hurricane Ike tore through Galveston ..." and the rest of the psa was about how the grocery store company is partnering with some other group to rebuild Galveston.

Excuse me! Galveston wasn't the only place devasted by Ike!! Our communities were affected by the 'forgotten hurricane', Rita, in 2005 and now, even though the hurricane itself is remembered, the fact that more than just one limited area was affected is. I almost abandoned my cart and left the building.

Remember me commenting on how much I hate grocery shopping?

So I finished buying the groceries I needed and headed to checkout. No problems with that. The scanner worked. The total was right. I'd forgotten how much the bananas weighed, but that was no biggie. Then the clerk said, "We're running a fall promotion. (gave the details, said how much I'd already spent at said store, then said...) Keep up the good work!"

HUH?!?!

I'll spend as much as I darned well please wherever I want, and it won't be because some store clerk has been instructed to tell me that I'm doing "good work".

Should have abandoned my cart.

Skies and the GPS

2009-09-09T21:53:00.002-05:00

I recently broke down and bought a GPS to help me find my way around when I move to wherever my next church is. Besides, I'm seriously directionally challenged, especially when I'm someplace new and, since I was headed into uncharted territory recently, figured I could use the assist.

It's a nice little GPS, not top of the line, not bottom of the barrel. Instruction manuals drive me nuts, so with just a little bit of reading under my belt, I jumped right in and began to figure things out. The first thing I did was spend about 30 minutes figuring out how to make the darned thing post in ENGLISH. Out of the box it seemed to believe that Italian was the language of the day. (Or was it Latin?)

After that, it was time to find the voice that would be least annoying. I think there were about 10 different voices to choose from, 5 female, 5 male. Now this was an important decision, so I took my time, listening to each of the voices several times and, finally, settled on Dave.

Recognizing that we tend to anthropomorphize much of the technology in our lives (or at least I do), next on the list was providing the little beastie with a name. And, no, it couldn't be Dave. The company provided that name and it didn't really seem to fit him. In just a wink, I was now beginning a budding relationship with Tommy.

I test drove Tommy on my recent trip to Ft. Worth, a real doozie since I was headed to some completely unfamiliar territory. Tommy didn't do too badly, except for that trip on the uncompleted toll road. Tommy kept wanting me to exit to the right ... on an elevated freeway with no exits. He kept saying, "in x-hundred, feet exit right" ... long pause ... "in x-hundred feet, exit right" ... long pause ... (you get the picture). This went on for about 20 minutes until there was finally a place to exit, and then I found myself in the middle of nowhere and hadn't the foggiest which direction to go.

But Tommy redeemed himself and navigated me through some interesting neighborhoods until he dropped me in front of this huge multi-acre facility and said, "You have reached your destination." NOT! Somewhere on that huge property was the building I was supposed to go to and I couldn't figure out where that was. I had to drive around the "block" with Tommy sitting there in stoic silence, condemning me for not acknowledging that we'd arrived by bringing the car to a stop and turning him off.

I've discovered that I like to torment Tommy, not that he can really be tormented, but I seem to hear a touch of frustration in his voice when I don't go precisely where he wants me to. He's not one of those REALLY annoying models that says, "Recalculating" each time you miss the turn. Instead, Tommy just comes up with the next exit or turn that will take you in the diretion he seems to think you need to go, and keeps on until he finally gets exasperated and suggests that you turn around at your earliest and safest convenience.

So, instead of keeping Tommy hidden away as I travel around known territory, I tweak his nose and torment him by heading to places I know 3-4 different ways to get there, and then take a route that's different from the one he offers. Teehee!

Of course, he has his own way of getting even. Whenever I drive long distances where Tommy doesn't have much to say between directions, he startles the heck out of me when it's time to turn or exit. So, if you're ever behind me on a long drive and see me jump, just ignore me. It's just Tommy out for revenge. I'm so glad he's an inanimate object!

Musings on the Way to Church

2009-08-25T14:38:00.002-05:00

Last Sunday, I filled in for a pastor colleague who pastors a church about an hour from here. It was a very beautiful Sunday morning and led to some musings along the way.

One of the first things that popped into mind had to do with this space between calls. After I left my last church, I was wounded emotionally and spiritually and felt so much alone. It was an incredibly difficult ending and it seemed to me that there had to be something wrong with me and how I'd pastored the church. I'd felt abandoned by pretty much everyone (even though I had a place to go and friends online to help with the transition). About the only positive thing I had to carry with me was the General Presbyter's comment that I "hadn't done anything wrong", along with an admonition to get out of town as quickly as possible because he was concerned for my safety.

I truly needed the almost 13 months between ending one call and starting the next. During that time, except for weekends when I was 'candidating' for my next position, I didn't do any pulpit supply and certainly wasn't in any frame of mind to consider it, even though the income would have been helpful. The hurt was just too great.

This time, the hurt is there, but it's a completely different kind of hurt. There's a loss this time that is kind of dificult to explain. There is a letting go of relationships that is much different from the last time. How do you balance the relationships and concerns from over 5 years together with the distance which needs to happen so we can each move forward - the members to finding new church homes and pastors and me to a new call? It's definitely a new experience.

As you can tell by the fact that I was driving to preach for someone so soon after the church closed, I am doing much better this time around. My head and heart are both just about ready to be at that new place God is calling me to. The selfish part of me wants to know right now, so I can make some plans for a real vacation, knowing where I'll be in the future while taking a semi-stress-free break.

And, then I saw the sign. "If anyone can, *name of auto dealership* can!" OK. The two don't really go together, but this was some wool-gathering while driving. The brain went directly to "Well, duh!" If anyone can do it, I can do it, right? Why do I need someone to do for me something that anyone can do? Now if it had said, "If no one else can, *dealership* can!", then I might have been impressed.

A little further down the road was a sign for 'yard eggs'. I hadn't heard the term 'yard eggs' in years. When I used to visit my grandparents on their farm, grandma had chickens and every morning she'd go out and pick up the eggs they'd laid. She had a chicken coop and the chickens mostly laid their eggs in the prepared nests in the coop, but sometimes, they laid their eggs out in the yard. Then you had to hunt to make certain none of them were just laying around rotting. I'm not a farm girl by any stretch of the imagination and I'm not even particularly fond of eggs either, but it was fun remembering that day and time.

And, then I got to the church and worshipped with a fine group of people and came back home to a quiet afternoon. I haven't the foggiest of what God has in store for me in the future, but I trust that I will be ready for it when the time comes.

Come on, Y'all

2009-08-08T13:02:00.003-05:00

So far, it's been a nice, lazy Saturday, mostly.

The dog woke me up about 9am with an urgency which expressed a desperate need to leave the building. That was followed by a collect call from a pay phone from someone seeking assistance who'd remembered enough of my name to get a home number from the directory. It wouldn't have been a problem if I'd actually known the person as a church member or true acquaintance, but I don't give rides to people I don't know.

Beyond that, nothing particularly exciting is happening. My accomplishments to this point include procuring a camcorder to record a second sermon for distribution in the church search, wrangling an agreement from my son to videotape said sermon tomorrow, responding to a couple of emails, working a couple of crossword puzzles, and slowly meandering my way through two newspapers.

Then my eye lit on this headline: Thousands still wait for Rita aid money. The bullet point reads: Auditor finds two-thirds of cash for Texas unspent.

OUTRAGEOUS!!

Okay. I'll bite. Yes, federal monies generally come with red tape. State officials are right to do what they can to avoid fraud. But this is ridiculous!

How many more hurricanes have to come crashing through the area before homes initially damaged in Rita, and already approved for assistance, are repaired? I went to a couple of meetings after Ike roared through town and was flabbergasted to hear that there would bee a need to distinguish between Rita damage and Ike damage. I guess you can't use Rita money on Ike damage? Even if the Ike damage was caused by the fact that the state futzed around with the Rita recovery money and didn't get the initial repairs done, which might have prevented the additional damage in the first place?

Get real, people!

These families are hurting. They are families who didn't have much except their homes before the first storm hit. For the vast majority of them, they are living in housing which was probably untenentable right after Rita came through and is in even worse shape after Ike.

It may be a false assumption, but I'm assuming the state has those multi-millions that are laying idle in some kind of interest-bearing account. It would be stupid of them not to. (But I wouldn't put a bit of stupidity past most governmental entities.) If there is interest being earned, will those monies head toward hurricane damaged areas for repairs that weren't funded the first time around? It seems that we ought to end up with some kind of benefit for the unconscionable delay in releasing the funds.

I know it takes time for governments to take action, and I know it takes time to recover from disasters of the proportions of Rita and Ike. However, families that suffered housing losses in Rita will never truly begin their own recoveries until their homes have been repaired. Is it right for us (as in govermnent) to continue to delay that recovery just because some minor percentage of individuals may commit fraud? These literally poor people have been through the bureaucratic wringer and come out of the process mauled. Anyone who's hung on this long probably has more than earned the right to a repaired home!

Come on, state officials! Let's get this recovery in full gear before the next version of Her Horribleness or His Hirrobleness comes roaring through town and not only adds insult to injury, but contempt to the pains that have already been endured.

Church Sign

2009-06-25T20:46:00.002-05:00

Along the IH610 in Houston, there's a Baptist church with this sign:

Anyone who does not increase you will decrease you

Ummmmmm... NO!

Anyone who buys into that sign hasn't read the same Gospels I have. Every time you turned around, Jesus was hanging out with people who would "decrease you". Tax collectors, prostitutes, all kinds of 'unclean' people. Not only that, but he ATE with them! Big no-no if you were a first-century Jew. Is the sign saying that Jesus was decreased by hanging out with these people?

It seems to me that whether someone is 'increased' or 'decreased' by being around people with negative reputations is more a matter of one's behavior in relation to them. Is it not equally possible that if one hangs around people with questionable reputations that they might be increased?

That's certainly what Jesus did. Zaccheus, one of those despicable tax collectors that Jesus hung around with, was restored to community and a societal breach was healed. Matthew, another tax collector, became a disciple. Jesus healed lepers, people who were so stigmatized that they had to shout, "Leper! Leper!" as they walked the streets.

The religious authorities of the day certainly would have viewed Jesus as 'decreased'. I'm not sure the author of the sign would appreciate being associated with them. However, that was my reaction. Which would you prefer to go to - a church where all of us sinners can come together to help each other become better people or one where only those who are already perfect are welcome?

Since I'm nowhere close to perfect, you can guess which church I'd choose!

Rainbows

2009-06-06T16:23:00.003-05:00

When I first came to Beaumont to interview for the call to Westminster Presbyterian, I'll have to admit that I mostly came out of curiosity. I'd lived here almost 20 years earlier and hadn't been back once since I left. The trip was more of an opportunity to look over familiar places than a really clear sense of call. After all, the week before I'd been on an interview that I was fairly certain was "the" place.

Yet I came ... out of curiosity and a desire to maintain the integrity of the call process.

Driving around town before I met with the committee, there came the typical Beaumont afternoon thunderstorm. Full blown. Huge dark clouds. ... and the biggest, most beautiful rainbow I'd seen in a very long time. Ummmm... maybe it was time to reassess my sense of call.

And I let myself listen to these faithful people, these friends, and listen for the Spirit, that still, small voice I'd been waiting on through the whole process.

In the almost six years I've been here since, we've been through some good times and some difficult times and been in ministry together. This past year has been the hardest as we wrestled with the incredibly difficult decision to dissolve the congregation and then actually do it.

The past two months have been especially difficult, with the reality beginning to set in and the saying of goodbye, experiencing "the lasts" together. Grief is a long journey and shared by many in different ways.

Last Sunday, we celebrated our final worship services. Prepartion for both of them was intense and complex. The weekend was deeply exhausting and deeply fulfilling. Worship was an experience of holy grief and care for one another.

On Wednesday, the congregation held a "Pastor Care" party for me, to spend time with each other and share blessings for the future.

Once again, those Beaumont afternoon/evening rains hit the area. One of the members went outside to get something from his car and came back in to report that there was a glorious rainbow outside.

We all traipsed out to watch it as the evening lengthened and the sun went down. A beautiful rainbow, spanning the sky in all its brilliant shades.

And, as I watched, there was a sense of completion.

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Poor Little Blog

2009-05-01T10:00:00.005-05:00

Poor ignored little blog. However, I've been up to my alligators in eyeballs with church dissolution issues and a couple of pesky health problems.

But, for today, I have a little something to share so the poor little blog won't feel quite so ignored.

Yesterday, I went to the local disaster preparedness seminar which has been held each year since Her Horribleness about a month before hurricane season starts. They've been trying to improve attendance and this year offered door prizes to attendees.

Throughout the day, names were drawn from a hat and people received shirts and cool tool sets and gift cards for various neat places. Now, I rarely ever get my name drawn from a hat and, when I do, I always get one of the really crappy prizes. I like watching the winners, though, and seeing what they get, so I stayed to the end. (Plus, the presentations were good and I got all sorts of good information, which was the REAL reason I went.)

At the end of the seminar, they awarded the grand door prize. I won this:

It has 5 burners and a little refrigerator. The irony? I don't cook! God has such a delicious sense of humor!

At least I'll be able to eat the next time the power is out. Thanks, Jefferson County Emergency Operations! It's a beauty!

Pyrrhic Victory

2009-02-14T08:21:00.002-06:00

Well, it isn't according to the dictionary definition; however, it felt that way.

This morning I went to Mickey D's to get a simple Sausage McMuffin and small oj for breakfast. I get to the window and place my order. The cashier rings up a Sausage Egg McMuffin. I say, "No! I don't want egg. I just want the Sausage McMuffin, NO egg." She rings that up ... and it's the same price!

I say, "Wait a minute! The Sausage McMuffin costs less than the Sausage Egg McMuffin. You get less!" The cashier insists that they're the same price. I hold up the line for a bit, assuming she's talking to a manager. She gets back on the speaker and repeats the total from before.

ARGGGGGH!

I cancel my order and drive off. I refuse to pay extra for obvious stupidity (on the part of management) or laziness (on the part of the cashier).

So, I drove 40-cents worth of gas to the next Mickey D's, got my Sausage McMuffin with no guff about that stupid egg being worth nothing, and saved 40 cents in the process.

Well, it was the principle of the thing.

Fiasco

2009-02-12T08:59:00.002-06:00

Well, the whole of His Horribleness (Hurricane Ike, for those of you who haven't read my Her Horribleness blogs after Rita) is a fiasco. That's the nature of hurricanes. But this is about a particular fiasco in the midst of the general hurricane fiasco.

Ever since His Horriblness roared through in September last year, there has been a community in the area which is truly caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Storm surge, the waters that get shoved ashore with no other place to go than beyond protective barrier of coastal sand dunes, was the beastie which ate up the vast majority of lives in His Horribleness' wake. Miles inland, the water piled up 4 or more feet into homes, ruining everything they touched and ultimately producing mold in all that they didn't touch.

Of course, this has happened before many times in many places, and all one can do is mentally flog the idiots who choose to build in an area where the flood plain was so low.

However, that can't be said about the families in LaBelle. In good faith, they built or bought homes that the government surveyor said was completely out of the reach of flood waters (except, perhaps, in extremely extraordinary circumstances). The National Flood Insurance program even willingly sold them flood insurance because of those surveys.

Then comes His Horribleness.

Now all the governmental entities say, "Oops! We goofed! The surveys were wrong and your homes are actually 3 feet BELOW the flood plain. Sorry, but we can't help you."

And because of that goof, these people are trapped, homeless. They can't live in their homes because the flood waters made them uninhabitable. They can't repair their homes because they are now located in an area where building is prohibited, since they are below the flood plain. They can't sell their homes, either, for the same reasons. And, they can't afford to continue to pay for homes they can't live in while purchasing or renting elsewhere.

All of that is fiasco; however, this is where the real fiasco starts.

There is a federal buyout program available where the homeowners can get 75% of the home's appraised value. The kicker is that the homeowner has to come up with the other 25% elsewhere (other grants, savings accounts, additional loans, whatever).

Shoot! My home isn't even near a flood plain, but if I had to come up with an additional 25% of the appraised value, I certainly wouldn't have the wherewithal to meet the $25,000 required. So, even if they knew they were in a precarious position before the storm, I'd still feel sorryfor families caught in that crunch.

Here's what absolutely infuriates me, though: These people didn't know! It was a screwup completely out of their control and beyond their ability to catch and fix before the first foundation was laid. The county decided it wasn't going to help. Any of the federal monies coming down the pike are specifically prevented from being used as the 25% match. These poor people have been just plain screwed!

I can't even begin to imagine the stress, anger, and frustration of being in their position, and I lived in limbo for about 2 years after Her Horribleness. Yet I knew precisely where I would live and that I could still afford to live there. There was no specter of homelessness, rootlessness that these poor families are experiencing.

The intellectual side of me recognizes the difficulty the local government entities have in providing assistance to meet the 25% match, legal and empty coffer-wise. But it strikes me that there's a moral obligation to commit to providing some recompense for the screwup that came through their offices, to doing something to help bring healing to these poor homeless souls. In the meantime ...

Fiasco! Total fiasco!

Tears

2009-01-18T13:51:00.002-06:00

I've gotten really good at it over the years. At first, just the intro would get me and the tears would flow. In time, it was the refrain that would tip me over the edge. A few more years and I could sing that song from start to finish without a glisten in my eye or a catch in my throat.

That is, until today.

The sermon was on the call of the prophet Samuel, the disciple Nathanael, the civil rights leader the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and each and every one of us. There was Christ's reminder of "Don't worry. I'm always with you."

My little and dwindling flock once again heard the words of the little boy Samuel responding to what he thought was chief priest Eli's voice, "Here I am!" Once again, they heard the words that it doesn't matter how big or small you are, how ineffective you may feel, God calls each one of you!

Then I had to go and choose THAT song - Here I Am, Lord!

I didn't think twice about it. For at least the last 8 years I've been able to sing it with no problems. While it wasn't truly just "a song", it didn't punch me in the gut like it used to.

Until today.

I managed to start strong and make it through most of the first verse, but then my voice began to catch in my throat and there was a quaver in the words I was able to sing. As we continued on, it became harder and harder to sing, and by the last verse, I simply stood there with tears in my eyes, reading the words, while the congregation continued singing. In fact, I'm tearing up right now, remembering it.

It is the song of my call. The song that grabbed me by the ears and shook me. The song that accompanied my writing the words 'attend seminary' in itsy-bitsy handwriting, almost microscopic in size.

"Here I am, Lord! I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart."

That's what I'm doing right now. Holding the people of this dying, resurrecting congregation in my heart ... and it hurts. I'd somehow forgotten that that's what following Jesus may mean. Following led to a cross and crown of thorns for Jesus. While we may not ourselves have such an ending, to truly follow Jesus means letting people and their situations touch your very heart.

It may also mean going. That's what I'm preparing to do as we wind down our ministry together. I won't be here as what's left of this congregation graduates, gets married, has children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, retires, and dies. I think today's the first time I really realized that's what this time of ending means for me. And so, the tears.

Yet, my heart knows that I am not alone, and that God has called me to follow. It still doesn't stop the tears - tears honoring a ministry together that is coming to an end. Perhaps those tears are a gift of one soul to another.

I think it will be a while yet before I'm able to sing THAT song again without choking up and tears coming to my eyes.

It is indeed a fitting tribute to a congregation whose hearts heard God's call so many years ago, and continues to respond with "Here I am, Lord! Send me."

Too Much, Too Soon

2009-01-07T18:14:00.002-06:00

I do realize that parents want the best for their kids. I certainly did, and do, for my son. However, I wonder if our society hasn't been on a quest for too much, too soon for some time.

There are tv talent shows for children, not young adults, to show off what they're good at. While I've a problem with such shows being on national tv, I don't really have a problem with encouraging our children to try new things, even if they fail, as long as it doesn't put them in harm's way AND as long as it's the kid's idea of what's a good time and having fun.

However, I guess I've suddenly connected some random events over the past year involving elementary age kids performing for large audiences and decided to wonder does our society as a whole expect too much, too soon of them?

The most prominent that pops to mind at the moment is the Chinese girl who sang at the Olympics. She has an incredible voice, and would have been a sensation even if the Chinese government hadn't decided to have a "Vanilla Ice" stand-in lip-sync the song while the young lady sang.

I also reacently received a link of 5 elementary-aged girls singing the Star-Spangled Banner at a university basketball game. You couldn't have asked for a more professional performance from those 5 girls.

And, I guess that's where my difficulty with it sets in. Professional? At 6,7,8 years old? C'mon! They're kids! What does it take of their time for play and imagination and just plain silly fun to polish that number? Is it the wise thing to do? Will we burn out some incredible future talent by pushing them to sing like adult professionals before their bodies, minds, and spirits are able to handle it? Does such an early start have the potential to injure voices that should be involved in playing "Red Rover" and "Duck, Duck, Goose" and "Marco Polo"?

Don't get me wrong. There are indeed some prodigies who choose to nurture a gift from a very early age. They are drawn to sing or play an instrument or act or create a work of art and you almost have to grab them by the hair and drag them away to get them to learn the basics of human interaction. And, if those 5 girls or the girl from China or any of the others are such prodigies, then ok. Do we have to showcase them at such a young age, though?

I still think we've lost some perspective when it comes to our kids and are nudging them to adulthood way too quickly. Why can't we just let children be what they are - child-like? It might be a step toward improving our society over the long haul.

Lasts

2008-12-16T14:41:00.002-06:00

The small, but wonderful, congregation I serve is undergoing dissolution and will be ending its ministry at the end of May next year. So, now we are doing "lasts". The last community Thanksgiving, the last Advent, the last Christmas Eve Candlelight Communion service, the last 'nog' ...

Of course, these experiences are filled with deep emotion. Something beautiful is coming to an end and the beginnings are just so nebulous and uncertain at the moment. For many of the members, the church is the only, or almost the only, congregation they've been a part of ... or they've been members for 15-20 years or more. Letting go isn't easy, and shouldn't be. If it were too easy, you'd wonder if they were ever committed to the ministry in the first place.

Things have been a bit surreal for me. True, I was a member here in the mid-70s, early 80s, so I do have a fairly solid connection to the congregation beyond the years I've served as pastor. However, I guess part of what makes this time seem a bit surreal is that I'm doing the things that I'd ordinarily be doing with a congregation at this time of year and will be doing once again with the next congregation I serve. There will be tweaks and differences, but there will still be sermons and communion and special music and Joy Gift offerings and holiday fellowship events.

After worship the other day, I overheard part of a conversation where someone was wondering how anyone could miss worship during this time of "lasts". The person commented on how special these worship services have been, along the lines of better than usual. Perhaps it's just that these are "lasts". To me, they've contained the usual bumbles and miscues and glorious moments that any other worship service has during Advent.

I still can't put together those Joy Gift offering boxes without something not working right. Probably never will. I still manage to forget to tell someone something they really need to know before helping in the worship service. I still manage some of the more creative bulletin typos along with the mundane everyday variety that I manage to include in the "regular" bulletin. The sermons still tell the "old, old story" using the lectionary texts that I've used for more than a decade.

See? Business as usual. And yet it isn't.

There is a quality to the life of the church which transcends business as usual. A touch of helter-skelter. This is new territory for almost all of us and we're groping our way through the process. But there's something about the "lasts" which adds an extra quality, a bittersweet enjoyment perhaps?, which is visible on/in those who have chosen to face the "lasts" and experience them. It's something which cannot be put into words and yet it's there.

What an honor to be invited to participate in this particular ending! It is a blessed experience for God is in the midst of it.

Avoidance

2008-12-02T21:45:00.002-06:00

I guess that's as good a word as any for it.

It's real. It's official. And I've been avoiding writing about it. Three Sundays ago our congregation voted to dissolve as of May 31, 2009. It was a very difficult decision, and has been coming on for a looooooooong time. Yet it's hard to keep a congregation going when what comes in doesn't come close to what's going out.

The congregation is incredible! They were the ones who brought up the subject of bringing the ministry to a close. It wasn't easy for them to do that, but they want to be able to end with dignity and the ability to help the community with the resources they have available instead of spending it all on keeping the doors open.

Of course, people feel sad and a bit lost. For many, it's the only church they've ever belonged to. And they've a heart for each other as well as for ministering to the community.

As I'm typing this, I've been watching a tv report on the closure. Weird feelings to have it out there like that. There'll be an article in the local paper tomorrow, too. Doesn't help any that I HATE watching myself on tv. Part of me wants to crawl under the covers and hide.

It's one thing for those of us in the congregation to say that our ministry is coming to an end. It's another to have some stranger announce it to the world.

Well, tomorrow may be interesting. Our plan is to sell the building and use the proceeds to help maintain the children's center, plus help other community programs as we are able. Betcha I get a whole lot of calls from realtors and others!

Maybe I'll be able to say more about the process and how I'm feeling later. But I did manage to get past the first post!

Stupid Internet

2008-11-11T11:13:00.002-06:00

OK, I guess it's a bit ironic. I'm using the internet to diss the internet.

So far, I've worked my way through three potential posts and hit the "Publish Post" button only to have the connection be broken and the post to flee off into cyberoblivion.

There seems to be a bizarre pattern to it, too. The connection has been breaking down between 10:30am and 1:00pm almost every day. I'm beginning to think it's me (that is, my modem) instead of the service provider. But I can't quite figure out why the darned thing only pops off at that time of day. The lengthe of time I'm offline varies from day to day, with me having to holler for help about once a week.

Could it be one of those insidious side effects from Ike?

Hmmmmmmmm........

Con-cen-tr ... Oh! Look a Bird!

2008-11-02T16:58:00.002-06:00

I seem to have the attention span of a flea recently. That's why I've not posted anything in a while. By the time I get an idea of what I'd like to say, a new thought takes me in an entirely different direction. So I thought that if I acknowledged my flitter-headedness, it might help.

It's not like I have nothing on my mind or to help keep me distracted. Elections, financial crises, difficult decisions coming up at church, technology deciding to malfunction at the worst possible moment (isn't that when it's supposed to malfunction?), recovery from yet another hurricane, meetings, and ... I've not had a vacation yet this year.

Hurrication doesn't count. That's actually hard work, trying to keep up with where everyone is and what information needs to be transmitted to whom and keeping people connected. Not to mention worrying about how your own home is in the aftermath.

Well, I managed to get this far and the brains have given up on me! I may go take a nap or read a book (if I can concentrate on it) or just veg out in front of the tv. The boy has Mythbusters on and they're kind of fun. The current one is McGyver myths. I love McGyver! Guess I'll toddle off and watch.

The Continuing Need for New Perspective

2008-10-22T08:06:00.003-05:00

This is a response I made on a blog (Gruntled Center) by Dr. William "Beau" Weston, who is advocating the elimination of Committees on Representation from the Presbyterian Church (USA) structure. I'm lousy at the technical aspects of linking, so it's not linked here. The first paragraph speaks to a response from a current member of the General Assembly Committee on Representation (GACOR), who speaks of coming at the work of representation and diversity through his position of white privilege.

I have recently rotated off the GACOR. I, too, come at this from a position of white privilege; although, I also have a position which puts me in a bit of a minority - clergywoman.

There is still much work to be done before Committees on Representation become “irrelevant”. I also am a member of New Covenant presbytery, and will admit that I dropped the ball on some of the representational work which needs to be done here. This is being rectified. For example, there are committees in our presbytery structure that are made up of moderators of other committees in the presbytery. As we’ve begun to work with the nominating committee, one of the things we’ve noticed is that these “over-committees” can all too easily become mainly white males. It can be difficult for even conscientious nominating committees to be completely aware of how certain choices affect other aspects of the leadership of the presbytery.

One of the unique features of Committees on Representation is that they are required to be composed such that the majority of its members are members of racial/ethnic minority groups. For those of us who have lived our entire lives from a position of privilege due to race (whether we have been aware of such privilege or not), this compositional flip-flop allows us to experience, at least somewhat, what it means to be in the minority. I believe this to be healthy for both the individuals involved and the PCUSA as a whole.

I wonder what the PCUSA would be like if, for one four-year term, the GA Nominating Committee were required to fill all positions so that every General Assembly-level committee had a majority of members who are members of racial/ethnic minorities, were under the age of 45, and had at least one-third of its members who had a condition which meets the criteria of the Americans with Disabilities Act. That would not preclude having members on each committee who could express the heritage and history of that committee‘s work, but might allow the work of the PCUSA to move forward in new, unexpected, and Spirit-driven ways.

Too Much Sky

2008-10-18T22:55:00.002-05:00

The other day my son and I were in the car headed to one of the local restaurants. As we came to one "familiar" intersection, I looked up and out and thought back to when I first moved to town. At that particular intersection, when you looked toward the sky, all you could see were the tops of the trees.

After Rita, there was a bit more sky to be seen at that intersection, but still there were a fair number of trees in that view.

Now, the intersection looks as though some maniacal lumberjack of Paul Bunyan proportions stomped through town, slicing out the tops of trees with his well-honed axe. The end result is ...

WAY TOO MUCH SKY!!

And little pitiful stubby treetops in view.

Don't get me wrong. Generally, I like sky. But it was Oh! so pleasant to have those beautiful green, leafy limbs, the trees' crowing glory, to help block the sun's rays early in the morning and at dusk.

Now, when I look at where the treetops used to be, I feel sad and shriveled inside. It will be another generation before the skyline begins to look "normal" again, assuming another beastie doesn't come plowing through the streets and yards of town again in the meantime.

*sigh* I think I've been feeling the combined effects of Her Horribleness and His Horribleness this week. Sad, then angry, then fuzzy, then rinse and repeat. Sometimes it's just overwhelming. Sometimes it seems like the best thing to do is just crawl back into bed and pull the pillows over my head. But sometimes, you just have to plod along, and remember to take care of yourself.

I'm beginning to think I need to take a couple of days off and just get away from town.

Hmmmmmmmmm...you know, I'm beginning to think it's about time for a trip to Austin. I've some friends there I haven't seen in quite a while. Yes, hills would be nice about now.

Now all I've got to do is figure out when!

Morning Reflection

2008-10-02T10:28:00.002-05:00

I've been enjoying the pleasant morning air today. The sliding glass door is open so the Penster can wander in and out as she pleases. It's cool enough to keep the skeeters from buzzing around and finding their way into the house. I'll close the door when the first insectoid flies in.

It's a beautiful blue, sun-shiny day. But there's a problem.

There's just too much sky. I look out my backdoor and the scene that used to be framed by the bright green shapes of large oaks and pines and whatever other kinds of trees grow around here, is now framed by what seem like skeletal remains. It's sad.

I drive down the streets and, especially early in the morning or toward dusk, the trees which used to help filter the rising or setting sun are gone, and the brightness hurts the eye. It's sad.

While the number of chainsaws doing their buzzing is nowhere near the number making their racket after Rita, the sound of their cutting puts my teeth on edge and causes me to cringe a little.

Still, it is a very pleasant morning. The fresh air is healing. The pain's still there, but I can remember that healing happens. It happened after Rita. It will happen after Ike. It's a process which takes time. But it happens. *sigh*

Radical Idea

2008-09-24T08:55:00.002-05:00

While ruminating my way through the financial news of the morning paper, a random word popped into my head: Jubilee.

Suddenly, it struck me that large numbers of Americans consider this country a product of our Judeo-Christian heritage, so why not implement a Judeo-Christian concept in this time of crisis?

In Leviticus 25, God requires that every 50th years be a year of jubilee. It was to be a time of joy, when land was to be returned to its original owners (i.e. the land proportioned out to each family of the Israelites after the exodus), slaves and prisoners were to be freed (and in that time, most slaves or prisoners were in that position because of debt), when debts were to be forgiven, and the mercies of God would be particularly apparent.

Over the centuries, Jubilee hasn't particularly been a part of our religious practice, but what if we took this biblical concept and put it into practice in our current fiscal crisis? Just reset the financial clock to zero?

Of course, you'd have to modify it a bit so that people wouldn't be tossed out of their homes. But what if everyone had a clean slate to begin anew? I believe that was God's intent in establishing the jubilee year: Sins forgiven, debts forgiven, a return to the starting point of one's heritage.

Oh! It wouldn't be easy, and those who would lose funds from the repayment of debts would squawk. Their pockets wouldn't be as richly lined as they'd want them to be.

But let's consider something. Many of the people who are in over their heads have gotten there due to circumstances beyond their control (health issues and layoffs come to mind) or have been preyed upon by predatory lenders who change the rules of the game whenever it looks like someone might actually pay their way out from under their thumbs. Those financial institutions will likely end up without a dime, or at most a few shekels, from those who owe them money due to bankruptcies or plain and simple default. Why not just set the debt account back to zero and give everyone a restart?

Then there wouldn't be a need for multi-billion dollar bailouts. Those who have been financially oppressed might begin to see hope for the future and engage in possibilities that improve their lives and the lives of others. I think God was aware of how seriously draining ongoing financial difficulties are. I believe that's why God commanded and hoped that humanity would take the opportunity every 50 years to exhibit the incredible mercy which is in God's nature.

Sure, Jubilee didn't seem to make it beyond the words passed down through scripture over the centuries.

That makes it easier for us to start now. Who knows? According to God's time, this may actually be a year of jubilee.

Why not claim our Judeo-Christian heritage and give Jubilee a try?

When Pigs Fly

2008-09-23T09:23:00.003-05:00

Got up this morning and wandered out to the driveway to get the newspaper as I usually do. Slipped it out of its plastic sheath to see these words over one of the above-the-fold stories:

Disaster bill on fast track in Congress

I won't use the language that ran through my head as I read this headline. It's not particularly pastor-like.

We're THREE YEARS out from Hurricane Rita and there are still too mucho major dollars hanging around that haven't gotten to the people who needed it THEN, and even that took waaaaaaaaaaaay too long to make it through the sludge factory that oozes assistance through the governmental process.

It's a good thing my faith lies elsewhere, because it certainly isn't in the people who make such statements of "quickly" and then leave the area to languish on the brink after they've gotten away from the place where their sound bites have the most visibility.

In all fairness, much has happened quicker this time than it did after Rita. Shoot! It's only 12 days after the storm and I have power.

But further into the paper is an editorial by Dan Rather that points out that once again our hard hit area is being overshadowed by another hurricane and the admittedly difficult financial situation our country is facing. What does that say about how our assistance programs are run when the 4th largest city in the country slides into national oblivion?

Oh! We haven't dropped completely off the map yet, and probably won't until the next disaster pops up. What angers me is that I've already seen with my own eyes the "speed of snail" pace which usually leads to further deterioration of a damaged home and damaged heart and soul. I am angry and fearful that we will see the same thing this time.

When do you think I should begin to believe the fragile promises of quick relief? When pigs fly.

When pigs fly.

Ain't It Amazing?

2008-09-21T19:04:00.002-05:00

This may be scattershot and a bit rambling, but here are some ruminations from our return from exodus and exile:

The boy, the dog, and I returned home yesterday evening to a house with no power and houses all around us running noisy generators. After we brought everything back inside, our next task was opening windows to get as much of a cross-breeze as was available. Fortunately, Ike left cool weather in his wake, not like Rita, who left us to swelter.

Damage to the house appears to be minimal, but I'll be a lot happier after the first rain. That way I can find any mysterious leaks that might still exist. Today as I went through the garage, I found all sorts of dead worms. I'm not sure if they were blown into the garage by the storm or water brought them into the garage or they just tried to get away from the rain and crawled into the first dry spot they found. Some of them made it pretty far into the garage before dying, so I'm a bit skeptical about that last option.

We had to put the dog in a kennel while we were in Duncanville because my sister-in-law is quite allergic to dog dander. On the trip back home, she kept sneezing and is having a truly snorky time of it even now. She's still eating and acting mostly ok, but I'm a bit worried about her. We may be making a visit to the vet's tomorrow, if he's up and running.

Last night, I ended up sleeping on the couch, because the Penster wouldn't sleep in the coolest part of the house by herself. She wanted to sleep near me, but managed to ensconce herself in the most inextricable places and then honk and snork. She sounded so pitiful. At least when we got someplace cooler, she rested a little better, even though she still honks and snorks.

We had worship this morning, all 9 of us. That wasn't quite everyone who was in town, but it was a fair representation of us. Mostly it was a time of sharing "storm stories" and talking about how Rita and Ike were similar, but different. Several of us are having a difficult time with the experiences related to the noise of generators and, especially, chain saws, and seeing blue tarps once again decorating so many roofs.

Yet in the midst of all that has come up again because of Ike, we've once again found the presence of God. "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" Be glad that the vast majority of us came through the storm in much better shape than after Rita. Be glad that here it is only a week since the storm came through and power is returning so quickly this time. It was 3 weeks after Rita before the power crews were even close to my house. Be glad that there is a cool breeze to help us survive the time without the electrical power we've gotten so used to having.

It was an odd feeling when the electricity came back on today. I was truly enjoying the open windows and the gentle breeze and the lack of constant news streams about this, that and the other about the aftermath of Ike. There was a sense of peace that I can't quite put my finger on, even though there was the sound of generators in the background. It was pleasant to lie on the couch and read a book, just relaxing. Of course, no one said we had to close the windows and doors once the power came back on. However, it seemed to be a good idea, since the dog was having such a difficult time honking and snorking.

I've also been blessed with a wonderful son! When we got home yesterday, after taking pictures with his phone camera because mine had died, he started removing downed limbs from the yard. This morning, he got up and went to the store and bought the last axe they had. He spent the rest of the morning and first part of the afternoon hacing away at the limbs too big to move and the limb that straddled the powerline into the house. It's not all out at the curb yet, but he managed to accomplish most of the task.

Right now, I'm looking out the sliding glass door and noticing the "thinness" of the trees. Rita thinned them out a good bit. But Ike has taken even more out. It's strange to see the sky through what's left. Thinking back on today, the sun has seemed, well, more present. It is an odd feeling.

Hurricanes and natural disasters seem to do that - leave you with an odd feeling. In time it will go away. It did after Rita. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to live with the odd.

A Strange Perspective of Time

2008-09-17T08:52:00.003-05:00

I’m not sure whether it is a blessing or a curse to have experienced another significant hurricane so recently. The weather nerds all say that an upper level Category x storm is the equivalent of the next higher category. So, by that definition, Southeast Texas has experienced two Category 3 hurricanes within the past 3 years. In such a situation, what would any normal brain do? Why … try to expect the exact same things to happen after each of them, of course!

Unfortunately, my brain seems to have retained a somewhat skewed perception of the events immediately after Her Horribleness and what’s happening now after HIS Horribleness. What makes it even more difficult to deal with is that both Rita and Ike hit the area in almost the same time frame at almost exactly the same time of the same month in almost the exact concurrence of two major storms within a short period of time. Katrina clobbered Louisiana about 3 weeks before Rita, while Gustav hit southwest Louisiana just 2 weeks before Ike. YIKES!

So, of course, our experience of the two storms must be exactly the same. Right? … Wrong.

Certainly, there are some similarities. I’ve already mentioned a few. Another is that, for the most part, southeast Texas seems to be once again overshadowed by the devastation experienced elsewhere. If you watch the major news channels, Galveston, Bolivar Peninsula, and Houston receive the vast majority of the coverage, while Beaumont, Bridge City, and Orange may crop up in passing. My brain screams “Not fair! Not fair!” at the tv set.

There are differences as well. When Rita came roaring through Sabine Pass, we ended up on the “clean” side of the storm. There was some storm surge in the area, but most of the devastation experienced by the area was wind damage. With Ike … well, we got the “dirty” side of the storm. I knew that water was insidious and capable of major destruction. But I don’t think I ever really realized that water coming up into an area with such deceptive slowness could produce such incredible damage as what I’ve seen in the pictures of Bridge City and elsewhere along the coast. It totally boggles the mind.

If I really put my thinking cap on, I’m able to remember that 3 days after Rita hit we were almost as clueless about what’s going to happen and when as it feels we are right now. About now, someone might be asking, “Well, didn’t we learn something from Rita? Can’t we do it better this time around?” I have a feeling we did, and probably are doing it better this time around, but it doesn’t feel that way because there are differences between the two storms.

Stop and think for a moment. When Rita hit, the vast majority of the community had evacuated and only a very few souls remained in town. In my congregation, only one family weathered the storm in their home, and only one family who came back before the third day after the storm. This time, about a third of our congregation stayed in their homes while Ike roared through. They’ve experienced the immediate desolation and lack of resources, information, and air conditioning. True, within the first week after Rita, there were just as many, if not more, back in the 100+ degree heat, which we haven’t had this time around. (Praise God!!) But by having so many in town to experience the aftermath so quickly, it seems as though we should already have power and clean water and sewage and full grocery stores and on and on right now!

I find myself getting really frustrated because I’m not back in Beaumont yet. When Rita hit, on the day she hit, I was able to make it back to Texas from my meeting in California and, on Sunday, I made it to Mom’s in Houston. I was just a hop, skip and a jump away from getting back home. This time, it will be at least a 4 ½ hour drive to get there, and I won’t have the easy resources of Mom’s electricity, phone, and internet connection to fall back on. Her home is in about the same shape as mine: powerless, grocery-store-less, resourceless.

I have to remind myself that it’s only been 3 days since the storm came through. At 3 days after Rita, we had National Guard personnel posted at the exits to town and no one could easily go in or out. That has not been true this time around. We’ve actually gotten a bit more information and a bit more healing happening a bit more quickly than it did after Rita. Who would have ever imagined that Lumberton would have power by now? Or downtown Beaumont? By the first Sunday worship after Rita, we were still without power at the church. They’ve already had power for two days this time around!

I have to remind myself that the first day we were permitted to come in, take a quick look, and get out after Rita was almost exactly a week after the storm. I already know that my house doesn’t have a tree through the roof, and I knew that on Monday. My backdoor neighbor was able to see what damage had occurred and called me to let me know. What a blessing!

Yes, we’ve had two somewhat similar storms happen way too closely for my comfort zone. Yes, there’s still the frustration of not having things happen as quickly as we’d like them to. Yes, I’m Oh! Sooooo! ready to be in my own home with everything back to normal, once again.

But I’m beginning to realize that we’re Oh! So! Blessed this time around in so many ways. Sure, there are glitches as things which didn’t happen during Rita, like the major flooding, are being addressed this time around in the different ways that are now called for.

Yet I’m reminded that God is truly in the midst of this experience - walking alongside us, mourning losses, feeling our frustration, calming fears, bringing sanity back when it feels that we can’t handle any more. I guess there’s one more similarity between those two storms: We made it through Rita with God’s help as communities have come together to help each other stitch up the wounds and heal the injuries we‘ve sustained. I’m pretty sure we’ll make it through Ike the same way.

After the Storm

2008-09-14T09:37:00.002-05:00

It's real and it isn't.

For my mom, she learned the house is ok, but can't seem to understand that getting power back into Houston is going to take a while. "Once power gets to the grocery store I can go back. That shouldn't take too long. They're bringing people from all across the country to put the electrical system back together. It can't take that long."

Problem is there are over 3 MILLION people without power in the Houston area alone. That's just for starters. Many of those "people from across the country" have been working their very appreciated fool heads off repairing the electrical systems in Louisiana demolished by Hurricane Gustav just a couple of weeks earlier. There comes a point when you run out of "people from across the country" who are available to help splice together damaged systems. They do have to keep a few people in their own areas to keep their own systems working.

Also, I remember how hard it was waiting for power to come back to my neighborhood when Her Horribleness blew through 3 years ago. I stayed with Mom in Houston and commuted. That doesn't look like a viable option this time around, and, even if it is, it's still a pretty stressful situation. Of course, there's no way I'm planning on staying in the DFW area for however long it takes the power to come on at home! Caught on the horns of a dilemma, aren't I?

This morning, I turned on one of the local tv stations' streaming video to the sounds of someone cutting limbs from a downed tree. My body actually flinched from the sound. It brings back so many visceral memories of listening to chainsaws cutting down trees for weeks? months? after Rita came through the area. There's a part of me that wonders if I can handle that sound for weeks on end again.

Last night, I tried to describe to myself how I felt. The best I could come up with is that I feel like I've been hit by a semi going full bore, drug for a while, and then had the truck come to rest on top of me. I recognize that this is the shock period of the disaster, and also that I'm still in limbo about the particular level of damage my own home has experienced.

What heightens the feeling is that I've only just been back in my home for less than a year. True, it's just a house and the stuff inside are just things. There's a part of me that really isn't tied to what is there. However, there's a sense of "place-less-ness" that has struck me rather deeply. Perhaps it has something to do with my mom's house also not being a viable fallback position at this time. Mom's lived in the same place for 45 years, so that's "home" in a way the my current living place isn't.

It's going to be a long journey through the night this time, I think. There's a bit of "C'mon, God! Twice in 3 years?! Give us a break!!" driving my feelings at the moment. My intellect tells me that the people who experienced Ike in Haiti and Cuba had it much, much worse than most of us. But heart's ruling head at the moment and I'm beginning to think a nice scream or two, with some fist-flailing at God thrown in for good measure, might be a good way to deal with the whole scenario at the moment.

I'll come back in a bit and let you know how that goes! Later!

Only in Beaumont

2008-09-13T14:42:00.002-05:00

Last night, I was watching Hurricane Ike updates on The Weather Channel. Finally, the Weather Nerd (WN) posted in Beaumont comes on the screen. The wind and rain were rough at this point. WN was doing the hurricane dance, barely holding onto his hood and his mike and doing his best to stay in front of the camera lens.

WN doggedly gives his update from in front of Crockett Street. Lights are still blazing in the background at this time.

Suddenly, there's a shape moving in the background. It moved quickly, so I thought, "Debris".

A few moments later, the shape passes through the picture again. It's rather large and ghostly white. I thought, "Hmmmm...that's weird."

Finally, the large, white shape dances through the picture, making pirouettes and leaping.

AHA! The Weather Channel got streaked!! TEEHEE!!

Give the WN credit: He didn't miss a lick!

Deja Vu, Sort Of

2008-09-13T09:47:00.002-05:00

Almost 3 years ago to the day, I was sitting in front of a tv a safe distance away while Hurricane Rita clobbered home. Here I am, once again, watching helplessly as Hurricane Ike does a number on the Golden Triangle.

As I watched again last night, once again there was a weather idiot doing the hurricane dance in the rain as the wind blew him around the street. The difference was that instead of standing in front of the Beaumont Public Library, he was standing in front of Crocket Street. As I watched through the night, lights were still on in the area. Wouldn't you know it? The lights went off at about 2:15am, again!

I lasted as long as there was any useful information available, watching The Weather Channel and, this time, keeping track of the Golden Triangle via streaming video on KFDM-TV.

Now, I'm watching as the storm continues to go through town, and checking in on everyone who stayed behind. The storm is still working it's way through the area and will be for several hours. Once again, we have no idea how long it will be before it will be possible to get back home. This time, Mom's house is in the evacuation zone, so, until we know more, I won't even be able to get within 1 1/2 hours of home.

Deja vu, sort of.

I hate waiting to find out how things are at home!

(Hey! Love, Rita! How're you doing?)

Time to Leave?

2008-09-10T23:50:00.001-05:00

The Weather Channel has posted Jim Cantore in Galveston! SCREECH!!

Somehow Cantore always ends up in the place where the eye of the storm passes. Ike's going to hit land at Cat 3, maybe Cat 4. Even if the beastie ends up in Galveston, it's going to be fairly nasty here in Beaumont, since we'll be on the "wrong" side of the storm.

The bags are mostly packed. They need to go into the car.

Cantore was musing that the window of opportunity for evacuation was beginning to close.

But I'm still dithering over whether to leave or not.

Can you hear the fear ratcheting up? I can!

Ready to Boycott!

2008-09-08T16:57:00.002-05:00

Ok - I've had it!

I'm about ready to call for a boycott. Don't know if I can stand it any longer and am feeling the need to encourage a boycott.

Of what, you ask?

Weathercasters using the term "ramp up" (or any variation thereon) when giving their reports on hurricanes.

Would someone please explain to me why this particular term has come into being? I do remember more or less when we began to hear it in the news and what it's associated with; however, what the heck to do ramps have to do with a hurricane gathering strength?

The Weather Channel appears to be one of the worst offenders, at least in my experience. It is virtually impossible to get through a tropical update without hearing the term not once, not twice, but on and on. Have they run out of descriptors, or creativity, or have they just been on air for so long dealing with storm after storm that they've forgotten what vocabulary they learned prior to walking in front of a camera? Well, that last one probably isn't the reason, since they've been using the term since the first storm of the season.

I've been trying to limit my exposure to said weathercasters, but it is sometimes difficult.

Fortunately, there are other news sources where one can glean pertinent information. But I must admit I find it helpful to see the reports of the storms in motion, so I'll probably have to endure a "ramp up" or two from time to time.

But ...

I'm ready for a boycott!! Anyone interested in joining me?

Speaking of Rita ...

2008-09-03T07:14:00.002-05:00

Oops! Did I say Rita? I meant Gustav.

Actually, I wasn't too far off the first time.

It has come to my attention that some of what I'm experiencing now, and have been since Gustav came roaring over the horizon, is related to Rita.

While I don't believe what I'm experiencing is classic, full-blown PTSD, I'm certainly experiencing some of the symptoms, and I suspect that's perfectly normal when you're looking down the barrel of a potentially Category 5 hurricane, like Gustav was as my family and others fled the Golden Triangle area.

It strikes me that Gustav was the perfect trigger for subconscious flashbacks to how Rita affected our lives. So it should be no surprise (but was) that I'm suddenly hypervigilant about hurricanes in general and that darned "hurricane train" chugging through the Atlantic at the moment, in particular.

Here's what the mayoclinic.com website has to say about PTSD: (Hope they don't get mad if I cut-n-paste instead of link. I'd rather have this info all in one spot.)

"Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms may include:

Flashbacks, or reliving the traumatic event for minutes or even days at a time
Shame or guilt
Upsetting dreams about the traumatic event
Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event
Feeling emotionally numb
Irritability or anger
Poor relationships
Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
Hopelessness about the future
Trouble sleeping
Memory problems
Trouble concentrating
Being easily startled or frightened
Not enjoying activities you once enjoyed
Hearing or seeing things that aren't there

Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms can come and go. You may have more symptoms during times of higher stress or when you experience symbolic reminders of what you went through."

Nothing symbolic about watching those hurricane symbols and cones of probability crossing the screen! *she said sarcastically, shakes head* Well, nothing symbolic beyond the fact that those were what I watched from a hotel in California as Rita inexorably headed this way. The fact that Gustav didn't send me fleeing from the state screaming is probably a minor accomplishment.

Truth is, I most likely don't have full-blown PTSD. However, I fully believe it's possible to have a situationally induced experience of the symptoms. I'm also reasonably certain I'm not the only person feeling this way.

The most important thing for me to hold onto right now is that I'm not imagining things and I'm not crazy! It's completely understandable for one to feel the way you did when you came home to the hole in the roof and thawed stuff in the fridge almost exactly three years ago. True, no hole in the roof this time, but I did apparently accidentally turn off the fridge, so I once again lost the contents of a freshly stocked refrigerator. *sigh*

This, too, shall pass. A little bit faster now that I've realized what's going on, I hope, but sooner or later life will get back to normal.

...

Probably after hurricane season is completely over!

Tunnel Vision

2008-09-02T21:32:00.002-05:00

While this isn't a new phenomenon, it just came to my attention that I get a real case of tunnel vision when it comes to hurricanes.

At some level, the world came to an almost complete stop once Hurricane Gustav began to take aim at the northern Gulf Coast. I'm not certain if it is a function of watching Her Horriblness bear down on Southeast Texas while I was stuck helplessly watching from California, or just a lurid fascination for the potential destructive power of a hurricane. Perhaps a bit of both.

It drives me nuts almost to not know the latest info on whatever hurricane happens to have the potential to head to the Gulf Coast. Even if I'm working on something else, the impending storm lingers there at the edge of my consciousness.

I even found myself "slipping" on things that I would ordinarily have remembered: I sent an email to my church list, asking them to let me know where they were headed if they were evacuating, and reminding them that I'd be serving as 'info central' until Gustav had left the premises. To start the ball rolling, I'd intended to let everyone know my plans. I had to be reminded gently by one of my members that I'd forgotten!

Just knowing that a hurricane tipping the scales at Category 4 (at that point) was headed into the Gulf was enough to rattle me.

And now? There's a whole herd of them headed across the Atlantic. The functioning part of my brain tells me that all those beasties aren't aimed right toward the "Chute" into the Gulf. The less rational part isn't so sure that we won't have a collection of visitors in the next couple of weeks.

I'm almost, but not quite, convinced that Hanna won't just keep going west and follow the National Hurricane Center track up the East Coast. Ike's a bit scarier, but then, he's still got a ways to go before he's a threat. Josephine? Well, I really don't need Josephine the Plumber to come by to Comet-cleanse my sinks!

ACK! Gotta go! It's time for the latest updates! Later!

Here We Go Again

2008-08-30T12:40:00.002-05:00

Last time a Category 3+ hurricane headed toward my part of the Gulf Coast I was sitting at a meeting and living in a hotel in Sacrament, CA. All my church members were frantically preparing to evacuate and I was stuck in a hotel room, watching minute by minute on any tv within my range of vision. As Rita took aim, all I could do was sit there, jittering, thinking about all the stuff that could/should be done to get my house ready for the storm and worrying about whether my members needed any help to get ready and get out of town.

This time, I'm here. At the moment, Gustav is a Cat 4, and has just a little bit more to reach Cat 5. The local authorities have called for voluntary evacuation, especially for those with special needs. We may be looking at mandatory evacuation as early as tomorrow morning.

I'm not stupid. I remember well how little of our infrastructre was functioning after Rita and have no great desire to spend days in sweltering heat. And there WILL be sweltering heat after Gustav gets through.

There are some who think that the "tree cleaning" that happened with Rita has pretty much handled the tree-limbs-dropping-on-power/phone lines problem. Yes, I'm sure it will help. The electric company has done a really good job of keeping those dangling limbs away from the lines. BUT I have a tree in my backyard that will take out the power lines if the worst of the storm heads this way. It leans toward the back of my property, where the power lines are. One good hurricane-strength shove and it's gone! And so are the power lines.

So I'm leaving town. Not today, but probably tomorrow at some point.

Now I get to jitter about my members who've decided that, no matter what, they aren't evacuating. Which is more important? Lives and being available for family, children, grandchildren or a building?

My son hasn't experienced anything like this. He's leaving today to head up to Oklahoma and spend the evacuation with friends. Clothes are washing, he loaded the dishwasher, and covered the piano with a tarp.

Then he wanted to take the metal lining out of the brick planter that's just inside the front door. The goal was to put valuable stuff in the planter, then put the line back in it, so no one could steal the stuff in it. My response? They've just things. They can be replaced. I'm taking the important stuff with me, and the rest? Well, it'll either survive the storm, not get swiped if someone breaks in, or be damaged. I'll live. It's just STUFF!

Then there are those who heard the stories of how easy it was to evacuate if you just wait until the next day. So there are a lot of people I've heard say that they aren't planning to go in the first wave. Just what we need to ensure that there are 1,000's of people stuck in cars on the road when Gustav finally makes landfall. *sigh*

Part of the reason for this post is to give me a record of what's going on with me. I've been keeping an eye on Gustav since he became a legitimate threat. Even though I'm in town and there are things to keep me busy this time, there's still that nagging sense of being on edge which is right at the edge of my vision. Hard to describe the feeling. It's sort of a sense of excitement mixed with a healthy fear of what might come.

The dog has been aware that there's something going on. She's in mild freak mode, barking at the slightest sound that might be interpreted as someone encroaching on her domain. I think she finally wore herself out, 'cuz she's sleeping in the other room.

It's totally amazing what one can accomplish in terms of decluttering when you have a category 4 (they just announced it) hurricane aiming at you. I have stuff in my office that I've been putting off shoving into the file cabinets for almost a year. All of the sudden, it's become less important to save every single page of those old sermons. (I do have them on the computer, mostly.) And all of the sudden, I find myself saying, "Self, what's a lost sermon in the grand scheme of things? Probably the only person who'd notice is me, and there's a good chance even I'd forget!

The other thing which has been going through my mind is what our worship on Sunday should look like. Somehow, just the usual way of worship doesn't seem adequate. and I'm not sure that any sermon I could come up with would be sufficient. So I've decided to do something different tomorrow. Lectio divina, the reading of scripture, meditating on it, listening for what God is saying to you right now, I'm hoping it will feed some nervous souls. I've found some hymns to use with the scriptures I'll be using, so that may help as well.

After worship, we're putting tarps on the pianos and organ. That may help too! *chuckle* Nothing like some activity and visible progress to help soothe ragged and frayed nerves.

THEN, I hope we can chivvy all of us out of town!

Well, it's time to finish up a couple of pre-hurricane tasks, then I'll be ready to bail when the authorities say, "GO!"

The Scenic Route

2008-08-26T23:21:00.002-05:00

I have a truly lousy sense of direction. Don't try and tell me to go north, south, east, or west, or any variation thereof. I've been known to foul up GPS directions, so I all to often end up taking the scenic route. The good news is that I tend to eventually get to the place I intend to go. It just takes longer.

On Saturday, I was returning from a meeting in Katy and decided to try following a different road from the old tried-and-true standby. Before striking out, I should have realized this would be an exercise in futility; however, there was no extreme hurry to get home, so I blithely hit the road with confidence that this route would work!

All of the sudden, I noticed that the route number I'd been following had just plain disappeared. Of course, the fact that the road suddenly became a much smaller farm-to-market road was a major clue. Being bold, I decided to follow the road a bit longer. Or was it being stubborn and refusing to backtrack?

In any case, the car and I turned left when it seemed appropriate to do so. After all, Katy is to the right of Beaumont, isn't it? At least it is when you're headed toward the coast. Unfortunately, I seemed to end up in a tangle of farm-to-market roads and began to get truly confused.

Stopping, I grabbed my rusty, trusty folding map out of the glove compartment and attempted to make it refold so I could see the part of Texas where my car was. Several minutes later, it appeared that I had two options: head on down to the coast where I couldn't drive any further, turn left, and take the Bolivar Ferry to get home OR capitulate, drive BACK to Houston, and then trudge down the dull, boring, flat road home.

Yep! The ferry won! One problem: I forgot how long it takes to wait on the ferry, especially on the weekends. The total trek ended up being almost 6 hours, instead of about 2 for the standard trip home.

But I got to see some dolphins play!

It's good to take the scenic route from time to time, isn't it?

Explanation Please?

2008-08-25T14:14:00.002-05:00

Can someone give me a rational explanation?

It's 90+ degrees outside. The water pipes go through the attic to get to the bathroom faucets.

So why is it that when I turn on the cold water faucet, the water comes out blazing hot for about a minute or so, then finally settles into its usual cold temperature? AND, when I turn on the hot water faucet, the water comes out as cool as can be for a minute or so, then finally settles into its usual hot temperature?

'Tis a mystery!

Phelps Phelps Phelps

2008-08-18T15:04:00.002-05:00

I'll grant you that Michael Phelps has attained a great accomplishment. In winning 8 gold medals at one Olympics, his individual wins set 5 gold medals with world record times. No complaints here that Phelps is a focused athlete and is deserving of attention.

Here's my gripe: 3 of those gold medals were team events, yet Phelps' teammates get only limited attention and, when they do end up in interviews, they get asked about how they feel about helping Phelps win his 8 golds.

The reality is that those 8 gold medals were a team effort, an effort where the teammates are worthy of attention in their own right. If they had not been competing with the same focus and at the top of their individual games, Phelps could have been 3 gold medals short of the record.

Somehow, whenever the Olympics come around, a few people become media darlings, generally deserving athletes, at the expense of other deserving athletes who have also worked hard to reach this premier event in their lives. I recognize that there are only so many hours of airtime available and probably more stories than the time available, much less to also cover the events.

It still seems a shame in this time of accomplishing a record that may well be impossible to improve upon (except by setting new time records) that ALL of those who made it possible are not being held up in the spotlight with the honor they deserve.

freecreditreport.com

2008-08-11T22:48:00.000-05:00

Let's see. There are what? 3? 4? of those freecreditreport.com commercials floating around the airwaves now.

Each one of them has a somewhat different annoying song.

Each one of them has a scenario where some guy doesn't quite have the perfect lifestyle because he didn't check with freecreditreport.com to be sure his identity hasn't been stolen, or his fiance has perfect credit, or can only get a broken-down used vehicle instead of the latest dream machine. The latest of these has some guy "going green", not because he was being environmentally conscious, but because the only thing he could afford with his credit was a bike.

Now I haven't quite decided if this series of commercials implies that men are really too stupid to make reasonable credit decisions, or men are the only ones concerned about how their credit is perceived, or that women are so smart about this that we don't have to market to them, or that women are too stupid to even begin to understand the concept of keeping track of one's credit rating.

The only time a woman gets mentioned is when the fiance neglects to mention a credit default, so they have to live with her folks instead of in a home of their own. Now, I'm not completely nuanced in this stuff, but, as I understand it, that's not particularly accurate.

In any case, I'm not planning on using their "free" service anytime in the near future, just on general principle. The reality is that men and women need to check this stuff out and keep some kind of track on it. The other reality is that there are truly free ways of checking with the credit report companies, without getting rooked into joining a "service" which does the same thing you can do yourself.

Now if I could just get those stupid jingles out of my head!

Rant

2008-07-29T08:55:00.002-05:00

When the cupboard gets bare and the world has been a bit frustrating, I occasionally head to Mickey D's for breakfast instead of scrounging and scraping something together from the depths of the cabinets. Besides I deserve a splurge from time to time, don't I?

So.... this morning I headed to my nearby junkfood outlet and placed my order at the box. Simple order: Sausage McMuffin (no cheese) and small OJ. The voice through the box asks if I want the meal. What the heck! It won't be that much more, so "Sure!". Then he announces that'll be $4.76. WHAT!!!!! "Could you please redisplay the ticket on the screen?" "No, I've already cleared it and will have it corrected at the window." *very large sigh*

Drive around the corner and get to window only to be informed that the cost is indeed $4.76. Now, let's stop and think a moment. The Sausage McMuffin is listed as $1.89 on the board. The small OJ is $1.00. I hadn't looked at the price of the hash browns (what makes this a meal), since I wasn't originally planning on getting them, but even at their worst it's about $1.00. $1.89 + $1.00 + $1.00 = $3.89 (plus tax - which is nowhere near 20%). Shoot! Even the Sausage McMuffin WITH EGG meal has a price of $3.69 before tax.

Nope! Wasn't buying that figure. The clerk at the window doesn't see anything wrong with the total. After all, the computer said it. It must be right! I grouse. The assistant manager comes to the window and pushes keys on the computer to come up with $4.65. Nope! Wasn't buying that figure either.

They get the manager. HE tried to convince me that my plain-Jane McMuffin was a big seller and that's why it cost more. Again. I'm not buying. I even had to tell him that the price for what I wanted was $1.89 on the board AND where it was located in the vast array of choices out there. I also groused that there wasn't a "meal" price available on the board, so there was no quick and easy way for me to tell him what the "meal" price should be. ('Though the guy SHOULD have known all of this, if he's the manager. I know! I know! My expectations may be set a bit too high.)

I think the guy saw that I was about to explode and take my business elsewhere, so he said "How would $2.05 be?" Well, DUH! Of course I agreed. I truly had no desire to take advantage of the situation and wanted to pay what was fair. However, there was at least one car waiting behind me and I didn't want to start arguing that I'd be glad to pay $3.50, which was about what I had expected it to be.

While I'm irked at this particular part of this particular Evil Empire, I think what irritated me more was the realization that there'd be a fairly large number of people who would not even think twice about the incorrect amount originally quoted. Far too many people trust that the computer must be right, that there could be no human error OR no internal calculation error on the part of the computer.

Even the manager ultimately didn't see what was wrong with the numbers. He was just placating an irrate customer. I'd kept a basic estimate of the cost running in my head and knew immediately that something was wrong. How many people wouldn't even have thought, or been able, to do that much?

Computers are wonderful tools. But they aren't perfect. If we don't have the skills to double-check their calculations, even through rough guesstimate, then we are leaving ourselves vulnerable to being overcharged (in the case of financial transactions) or even harm to our lives or death (if one considers the possible miscalculation of medication dosages or even the fuel consumption of an airplane).

I'm so glad that I was taught how to do basic arithmetic without calculators or computers!

Will It Ever End?

2008-07-21T14:18:00.002-05:00

Close. Oh, so close!

Mondays aren't usually bad days, and today is no exception. Meandered out to the mailbox after the Penster had a minor conniption fit because the mailperson dared to walk across our front porch. What did I find?

A check! Unopened, I thought "I'm finally at the end of dealing with the hurricane repair work! La-la-la-la-la!" After dancing my way back into the house, I opened the envelope. They got it almost right. The mortgage company is still holding $2,000 hostage.

When I got hold of a very helpful customer service rep, she told me they were still waiting on the "waiver of lien" and "completion of repair" certification! I mailed those puppies, next day mail, almost a week ago! OUTRAGE!! Turns out I picked the wrong address from the forms. The mortgage company had received it. It just didn't think to tell the part of their company that cuts the checks about it. *sigh*

The last of my buckos should arrive sometime later this week. At least, that's what I'm hopeful of. Still, I'm wondering. Do you think all this will ever end?

Let the Dancing Begin!

2008-07-14T08:15:00.002-05:00

Just this very minute the final inspection of the repairs to the hurricane damage was finished and the work declared 100% complete!!!!!

It only took 2 3/4 years to get to this point.

Let the happy dancing begin!!

That is all. We return you now to your regularly scheduled programming.

Peripheral Damage

2008-07-11T10:00:00.003-05:00

It's been what? Four weeks? since lightning struck the neighbor's tree and wrought minor havoc to my house?

I've had several people tell me to check out my appliances and such because lightning has this weird habit of affecting electrical stuff in the vicinity. Of course, I think refrigerator... tv... computer... printer... phones. With minor previously mentioned exceptions, those things are all working just fine, thank you.

I get back from my trip and the son says, "Mom. I think the DVD player is broken." I decide to tape a tv show and the VCR is acting all wonky and won't let me program it. Then it refuses to even tape the show I'm watching. This morning, I decide to have some toast and the toaster refuses to do more than dry out one side of the bread while not even heating the other side.

Didn't even think of checking out the minor appliances after the storm. I believe I'm experiencing the further aftermath of that "stroke of luck".

At least my can opener still works!

A Funny thing Happened on the Way to ...

2008-06-28T12:20:00.002-05:00

General Assembly.

Well, not really, but it seemed like a good title. *chuckle*

A chapter in my life ended this week. I attended my last General Assembly as a member of the General Assembly Committee on Representation. Well, at least, this time around. While it's always possible that I may serve on the committee again, it won't be for some time. *sigh*

Much has happened since I attended my first COR meeting about 8 years ago. The committee has grown, and so have I. And my work on the committee has been instrumental in my own personal growth.

Funny thing, that. I wouldn't have particularly considered myself a rabble-rouser prior to this. A minor agitator from time to time, but not a rabble-rouser. However, there was something about this committee when I got on it that wouldn't let me stop poking at the assumptions being made and the opportunities for an impact on our denomination that slipped by.

For those who aren't up on their Presbyterianism, the Committee on Representation was established as a part of the Articles of Agreement, which led to Reunion in 1983 of the United Presbyterian Church in the USA (northern stream) and Presbyterian Church in the US (southern stream). There was great fear that leadership in the denomination would revert to the majority culture, since the selection of leaders would come only from geographic bodies, not from groups that were made up of minorities. There was a fear that racial/ethnic leadership would be lost, leadership which was just beginning to come into being at the time. Thus, the Committee on Representation came into being - an accountability group to report on how well the leadership of the denomination reflects the makeup of our members.

When I attended my first meeting, I kept seeing situations that cried out for comment being left behind on the floor. Mind you, it wasn't members of the majority culture letting these things slide. Those of the racial/ethnic minorities kept saying, "no, we'd better not". In the years since reunion, this committee, which could have had a major impact on the makeup of Presbyterian leadership, had sidelined itself into obscurity.

Three or four of us got together and griped and groused and complained our way into the committee beginning to take positions on issues of importance. All that hard work may have finally paid off.

This year, our denomination was presented with a new Form of Government (part of our denomination's "operating manual") for review, comment, and, perhaps, acceptance. There is much that is positive in the proposal; however, while it didn't eliminate a call to diversity and inclusiveness, it did eliminate the Committee on Representation. To be fair, it also eliminated every other committee that is currently required by our denomination. It didn't say that the varying levels of the church couldn't have them. It just didn't require them.

When I first got on the Committee on Representation (COR), we probably wouldn't have said "Boo!" and the committee would have quietly faded out of existence. Not now. When we got the first edition of the changes, we made a case for continuing the COR to the Task Force assigned the duty of revising the document. In response, the language was changed to "may establish a mechanism for ensuring diversity and inclusiveness". (that's the gist of it, I don't have it in front of me)

Although it was a concession, we didn't stop there. You have to understand that "may" and "shall" are super-significant words when it comes to polity. So, when the final version went to the General Assembly Commissioners for their study and, ultimately, their vote, we drafted an "advise and counsel" statement encouraging the commissioners to amend the final version to include COR's. In all the years I've served on the committee, this is the first time we've ever taken such a bold step on any issue! [Yes, in the past, the COR has taken a solid stance on some issues, but they are few and far between ... and, up to this point, it hadn't happened once in my 8 years on the committee.]

At the General Assembly, I had the opportunity to speak on behalf of the COR before the committee which would make a recommendation of what would happen to the revision when it was presented to the entire General Assembly. The final outcome was that the whole document was referred for study and tweaking for two years, with a comment made that the concerns of the COR be addressed in the revisions. YAY!!

And, you know what? Eight years ago, I was still a fairly shy person, having to build up my courage just to drop one of those 'tweak of the nose' comments into the conversation on any issue. Now, I'm able to jump into the fray and state my position with the best of them! OK - I still get shy when it comes to large groups, but eight years ago, I wouldn't have been caught dead speaking at a General Assembly, for any reason! "You've come a long way, baby!" YAY!!

On Father's Day

2008-06-15T07:01:00.002-05:00

My dad was a quiet, tall man. A mathematician. A scientist. Hugs and "I love you" were not part of his parenting vocabulary. He did the best he could with the tools his parents gave him. Took me a very long time to figure that out.

The family story is that, after dad's graduation from college, I followed him around like a lost puppy once Mom and I caught up with him when he moved to Texas before us. What I do remember is "helping" Dad with his experiments as he tried to create a way to scavenge clean water from the air around us. The apparatus was hooked to a vacuum cleaner and never quite worked as he hoped, but I was a part of it. I never learned until after he died that he had several patents. NASA owns them, but they are in his name.

Dad was an atrocious punster. He'd get a twinkle in his eye when he caught someone using a phrase that he could turn into a real stinker. Only once in my entire life did I ever get him back. At a family Thanksgiving dinner, he let off one that absolutely reeked. I turned to my aunt and, doing a takeoff on an old Prell commercial, said "You'll just have to excuse him. He just washed his brain and can't do a thing with it." In time, I learned that the only way to hold my own with him was to staunchly remain silent, pretending I already had the answer, when he snuck up to a zinger. It frustrated the heck out of him! And I usually found out where he was going anyway, because there was generally one sucker in the room who'd have to ask Who? or What? or Why?

Our entire family roller skated competitively. Not roller derby, but like the artistic ice skating competitions. Dad was a hard taskmaster and expected us to work to improve. Yet my fondest memories are of the times he skated with me as his dance partner, and when we did the 14-Step with him doing the women's steps and me doing the men's. What fun!

I was well into adulthood before I realized that "What needs to be fixed?" and "I've noticed 'x', let me get my tool box." actually meant "I love you." When I was a child, I desperately wanted to learn to play the piano. Dad, a fine craftsman, was building a bookcase/desk/cabinet unit into the family room wall. He left a piano-sized space in it for a time when we might get a piano. Later on, when we did, it was just precisely the right size for a small upright. He almost got skunked on it, though, because most pianos at the time were about 1 inch taller than the space he'd left.

On the day that my world went to hell in a hand-basket, Dad was the one who said, "We'll be there as soon as we can. Will you be all right 'til we get there?" The time I left Houston for Austin and forgot my purse, Dad decided that they ought to drive it all the way to Austin instead of sending it via UPS. No cell phones in those days!

In the year before he died, Dad was afraid that he soon might not be able to say some of the things he wanted to. So he wrote me a letter, which I keep in my fireproof safebox. It is very precious to me.

So, on this Father's Day, I want to say, "I love you, Dad, and miss you very much." I'm pretty sure he heard that.

Can't Win for Losing, Part 2

2008-06-12T15:35:00.002-05:00

Well, the insurance adjustor just finished his thing and .... TADA! Even at the top limit on the numbers, I come out $65 less than my deductible in repairs. Somehow that's not a total surprise. Frustrating, though. Ahhhhh, well! It could be MUCH worse.

Can't Win for Losing

2008-06-10T19:05:00.003-05:00

What a wonderful day! (*she said sarcastically*)

This morning about 10am a nasty chunk of a storm came through. It hadn't started raining and wasn't particularly windy, but all of the sudden there was a huge KA-BOOM! It was mighty close and the critter decided that it was worthy of getting worried about. At least, she didn't try to sit on my head!

As I left the house for an appointment, I happened to look up and see this:

After the appointment, I came back home and got ready to go to the office. Just as I was getting ready to go out the door to my car, I hear another KA-BOOM! Nope. Not lightning. The top of the tree landed on my garage and driveway.

The good news is that my son's car was not in the driveway or it would have been smushed. Another good thing is that my car was in the garage, so it wasn't damaged, even though I can't get out of the garage until someone cuts the huge limb into little pieces and hauls them out of the way. The other good thing is that I didn't really have to go anywhere this afternoon.

It was the neighbor's tree, but, since there wasn't any negligence, guess who gets to pay for fixing things. Ayup! Right on the first try.

Just what I needed right now. Another deductible to come out of too shallow pockets.

Not only that, but I ended up spending waaaay too much time trying to convince Time-Warner Cable that the too close lightning strike did a number on my internet connection. From their end, things were working just fine. From my end, I couldn't get either of my computers to actually speak to the internet. "Try this." "I did that already." "Let's try this." "I did that already." "Let's try one more thing." "I DID that already." After we went round and round, I bailed and talked to my computer guru friend and got enough information to be able to speak intelligently and affirmatively that the problem was my modem and I wanted to swap for a working one.

When my son got home, we made a trip to the local office and I'm online!

Someone just suggested that I oughta get my house exorcised. I was actually planning to have a house blessing once the last vestiges of hurricane damage were repaired. Guess I waited too long!

Under Pressure

2008-06-06T08:51:00.002-05:00

Hurricane season 2008 has arrived!

How do I know that? Well, the annual ritual has begun. Promptly on June 1st, the Chronicle Hurricane Guide arrived with the newspaper. The Beaumont Enterprise neglected to follow suit, which I think is a big mistake. The Houston paper cannot adequately cover things like SE Texas evacuation routes and local resources. Plus not everyone currently living along the coast has ever lived near a coast nor knows what's involved in preparing for the potential hurricane. Besides, everyone needs to have a brand-new, pristine, official Hurricane Tracking Chart, don't they?

The Enterprise hasn't totally ignored hurricane season, since they've had articles about hurricane season beginning and Her Horribleness' affect on insurance and (one day later than the Chronicle) an article on how building codes in Texas haven't been modified to address updated innovations that might make a home more secure the next time a hurricane strikes the state. They've even had one of their weekly Lifestyles columnists do a piece on whether he'd stay in town or go the next time a hurricane headed this direction. (He'd GO!! Not quite so much because of the storm itself, although that would be a factor, as because of the discomfort in the aftermath. But still, at least it was an article advocating evacuation.)

Anyway, back to how I know it's hurricane season.

The Weather Channel has begun its "Tropical Update" at "ten 'til" each hour, with tips on preparation, lists of hurricane names, explanations of what the science currently knows about hurricanes, possible patterns for this time of year, and so on and so on. Actually I believe they do a fairly good job of providing pre-hurricane information and tracking updates from the moment there's an iffy area lurking out there. Sure, they get a bit hysterical when something begins to head to land. But then, if you're broadcasting 24-hours a day about the weather, sometimes you just have to find something, anything, to keep you (the weathercaster) awake.

But do you want to know how I really know it's hurricane season?

It's hurricane season because I've started watching the barometric pressure again. That's right! Six months out of the year I apparently don't even see the barometric pressure listed in the "Current Conditions" of "Local on the 8's". But once, June 1st rolls around, I'm suddenly aware of that number and whether it has an S or up/down arrow next to it.

Guess you could say that hurricane season is enough to put one under pressure.

Eep!

2008-06-04T09:18:00.002-05:00

A momentary chuckle: It's evening. It's dark. The dog decides she really needs to go out. I head to the curtained sliding glass door, unlock it without pulling the curtain back very far. PLOP! hmmmmmm... Plop? Dog actually jumps backward. I think to myself, "Snakes don't go "plop", so what is it?" There on my side of the door is a nice, plump frog. I gently encourage the frog to return to its favored environment, which it politely did. Do you think the dog would go out after that? No Way! Silly dog.

Preach It!

2008-05-25T09:56:00.002-05:00

I've been out of touch with most of the world this past week while attending the Festival of Homiletics in Minneapolis. It was a week of worship and lectures on preaching given by some of the big names in the reformed tradition. I think I'm about "worshipped out".

Don't get me wrong! It was great to be in a setting where about 2,100 pastors were listening to and learning more about their craft. The presenters did an awesome job. But 10 worship services in 4 1/2 days? It's a good thing I'm not preaching this Sunday!

As I drove home on the last leg of my trip, I suddenly realized that not a single one of the pastors who preached, and only one of the workshops, used powerpoint. Just the spoken word was powerful enough to get their messages across, and they did it in a way that kept your interest.

Occasionally, someone tossed out a $10 word, but then, they were preaching to pastors who should be able to understand them. However, what was most compelling was the vivid, descriptive language and the ways they shared the "old, old story".

It's funny, but most of them stayed in the pulpit, too, with only a couple of them wandering about the chancel area. And not a one of them walked out into the congregation as they spoke. I didn't even pick up on that until just now.

Of course, the big-name lecturers, people who teach people to preach, managed to contradict each other about some things. That really didn't surprise me too much. One said "every pastor must preach without notes". Another said "it just depends". And about half of those who led worship used manuscripts and half didn't. *chuckle*

Guess we'll all just have to continue to hone our craft, do the best we can before God, and preach the Good News with all our hearts and minds and souls and strength.

The Secret

2008-05-04T07:41:00.002-05:00

It's baaaaaaa-ack!

The Power of Positive Thinking, that is. Sure it's wearing contemporary clothing and wrapped in the scientific language of quantum wavicle theory, but it's back nevertheless.

I was at a meeting this weekend and there was a segment on "The Secret Isn't a Secret". Time was spent going through the wavicle theory and how the observer interacts and affects the outcome of whatever's being observed. Well, DUH! This isn't a new concept! It's been around for quite some time.

Then the presenter gives a recent personal experience of thinking she's about to be fired from her job, and Lo! and behold! ... She's fired.

Please don't get me wrong. I've been involved in community and individual prayer for positive outcomes and been ecstatic when incredible outcomes occur. I've known people who've gotten their lives back together by changing the way they approach the experiences in their lives. I'm not saying that a positive approach to life isn't a good thing.

Yet ... I can't help but see the fallacy in this approach to life. While we were watching the associated video, I kept thinking of the person blind from birth whose positive thoughts were of being able to see, and nothing happens. Then the family dealing with Alzheimer's unrelenting path to lost and befuddled death, putting positive thoughts out into the universe while their loved one continued to die bit by bit, day by day. Do we tell the amputee that if they just think good thoughts long enough, that prosthetic will somehow become real?

If this kind of message comes from a religious person, are we not telling those whose dreams and visions are not (and perhaps cannot be) fulfilled in this life that God has rejected their requests, and, thus, the person themselves? It seems to me that if putting positive thoughts and visions out there were the solution to all of life's ills, that Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane would have been "Father, I've envisioned this wonderful, peaceful way to bring your kingdom into being", and he would have been spared the suffering and death of the crucifixion.

Of course, I guess you could also look at Gethsemane as Jesus putting out the negative vibes and then getting what he deserved. Hmmmmmmmmm.....that doesn't seem right either.

"Not my will, but Thine" is the prayer of relinquishment Jesus prays. That's the harder prayer to pray, and may be why we're drawn so quickly to the "happy talk" prayer. Guess I'm just getting cantankerous in my *chuckle* 'old age'. I find myself being drawn to that Gethsemane prayer: "God, I'd love for the wonderful, positive thing to happen ... my definition of the perfect vision to occur, but God, I relinquish all that I have and am to you and am willing to trust you with it. Not my will, but Thine, O God!"

In the Mail

2008-05-02T11:31:00.002-05:00

When I moved back into my house, I made some well-considered decisions regarding my telephone, tv, and internet. Because I am a pastor, I really need the reliability and confidentiality that one can get on a landline telephone. Of course, the only secure landline is through AT&T, so guess who supplies my telephone service.

I've done the satellite tv bit before. Not only did I consistently lose the picture whenever there was a significant storm (one of those times you really need tv reception), but the satellite provider significantly changed the service they provided without notification. No more satellite for me! How does AT&T provide tv service? You've got it! Satellite! So, I get my tv service through cable.

Before the storm, I had dsl service. It was good, but not the fastest service for the price. So, when I got back home, I decided to go with Roadrunner.

All very clear decisions. Each particular choice told to the particular company with the reasons why I made the choices, and the fact that I would not be making any changes was particularly noted.

So, why is this post titled "In the Mail"?

Today's mail contained an advertisement from the phone company offering all sorts of incentives for me to shift my tv and internet to them, AND, an advertisement from the cable company offering all sorts of incentives for me to shift my phone service to them.

*sigh*

It'd save them all sorts of shekels in postage and ink and paper, and it'd save the environment too. Why won't they listen to their customers?

Quite a week!

2008-04-20T13:47:00.002-05:00

I may someday catch up on this week's newspapers ... possibly, and am only stopping in here because I don't want to abandon things completely.

Besides the multitude of meetings that were scheduled for this week, one of my oldest members died. It is quite an honor to be present at that point where one passes from this life to the next, and this was a gentle transition. She had lived a long and full life and things were becoming difficult for her, so this was a blessing.

She had done some thinking about her funeral and had several things planned. First on the agenda? "No eulogy." So I didn't, but I couldn't leave her unmentioned. I snuck in a few memories in one of the prayers. *teehee*

The ladies of the church did an awesome job of preparing munchies for the visitation after the funeral. Her sister only wanted something to drink and some cookies. This crew doesn't do "halfway"! I told her sister to just accept an enjoy their gift. Once our crew gets started, even an armored tank couldn't stop them! There were homemeade sandwiches and cookies and punch and fruits and veggies with dips.

Such amazing people! My life has been truly enriched by getting to know them.

Now my feet are tired, and my brain is fried. I think I'm going to take a nap. It's been quite a week!

Whimsical Thought

2008-04-09T20:05:00.002-05:00

If one believes that God created the earth and humanity and all creatures great and small, and declared it "very good" (Genesis 1:31, NRSV)

AND

If one believes that our beloved pets are welcomed into God's kingdom along with us humans,

THEN

are there mosquitos in heaven?

A Momentary Harumph!

2008-04-08T11:09:00.002-05:00

Static! That's about all I get on my phone. Static! And it's no fun for either end of the conversation.

My AT&T payment includes the In-Line Plus that means the repair people can track down problems inside the house as well as outside without costing an arm and a leg. Everything's covered, right?

Call the repair center. "We've a longer than normal wait time right now. Why don't you try the website?", the voice message says. Ooooo-kay.

Get on website. Begin report. They do their magic via the computer generated testing thingy. Nope! No problems we can see. Here - go do these things first: followed by a list of steps which includes taking a screwdriver and opening some box on the outisde of my house.

WAIT A MINUTE!! Aren't I paying you so many buckos a month to do all that stuff when I have a problem?

I just clicked on the "been there, done that" button and am going to let them come out and tinker with it. HARUMPH!

Holy Carp!

2008-04-05T12:39:00.002-05:00

For much of this week, I've been away from technology at the annual clergy retreat. So, only today have I caught up on reading my newspapers. Two thoughts arise from this marathon paper-reading: (Well, there's more than these two, but ...)

First thought -

In Houston this past week, the Catholic church has been celebrating the opening of its new co-cathedral. Okay. A reasonably big deal if you're Catholic. A one day wonder if you aren't, or at least that's the way I see it. The Houston Chronicle has had some kind of whiz-bang article at least four times since Sunday and three of those articles have been Section A, if not front-page. SHEESH!

I don't recall quite this much splash and bother over Joel O'Steen's church opening in the old Reliant Stadium. I certainly don't recall it hanging around on the front page for days. Even the new Buddhist temple didn't get this much coverage. Of course, I will admit that my memory isn't perfect and I didn't do any research to back up my impression.

However, I truly wonder if there would be such hoopla if the Presbyterians or Methodists or whatever denomination or religion built an equivalently brand-spanking new facility. Somehow, I doubt it. Ah, well! Such is life!

Second thought -

In today's paper, there's an article about insurers pulling out of insuring homeowners, if another hurricane blew in along the Texas coast. And mentioning that the current Texas Windstorm fund doesn't even have enough buckos to cover the cost of repair/replacement of insured buildings in Galveston County, if the next big one roared through there.

Here's what totally angers me - Insurers are upping their rates as much as 20-25% along the coast, for less coverage, and making huge profits in spite of whatever losses they may possibly have exprienced in 2005, and they're whining that "if another comes through, we're out of here!". ARGH!

OK, I believe in capitalism about as much as the next person; however, there's this part of me that wants to take all for-profit insurance companies and legislate them out of existence. Let the risks be shared across the country for whatever catastrophic weather events may cause damage of mega-proportions. There's not any part of the country that's totally immune to floods or tornados or hurricanes or wild fires or earthquakes or landslides or drought or whatever.

It probably wouldn't be ideal, and would likely increase rates as well. Yet we wouldn't be held hostage to companies whose main reason for existence is not repairing damage but making sure their shareholders reap profits. Of course, this isn't going to happen any time in the near future, if ever, and there would probably be as many glitches and angering experiences as one might expect in dealing with another bureaucracy. I just wish we could come up with a better way of sharing the risk of natural disaster without bankrupting those who try to plan ahead for when disaster occurs.

State of Health

2008-03-29T23:20:00.003-05:00

I just got back today from a meeting where various state organizing groups were discussing what impact they had had on their local healthcare systems, and what action they might take to further "fix" our terribly broken system.

For the most part, these are groups that have been at it for several years and, while significant in their own way, have pretty much been successful at making only miniscule changes to the system: managing to get local governments to raise the threshhold of "indigent" from 21% of the federal poverty level to 25% of that level (mind you - that's the equivalent of working for 7 hours at minimum wage/week), raising awareness of how local governmental entities will "sluff off" their indigent care responsibilities onto other agencies, that kind of thing.

We heard stories of how varying segments of the healthcare system, through willful neglect or ignorance or just plain idiocy, caused harm to those present, their family members, friends, or others they had contact with. The stories are powerful witnesses to just how broken the system is: those with no insurance paying the "full" cost of care (that amount that medical care providers have to charge in order to receive adequate reimbursement from insurance companies or governmental entities), care denied for a breast tumor the size of a golf ball because "it wasn't an emergency" and then reaming out the patient because she didn't come in sooner for treatment once it had finally reached the size of a peach and then denying the prescribed chemotherapy/radiation treatment because, once again, her condition "was not life threatening", medical doctors in various specialties refusing to participate in government sponsored programs for indigent care because reimbursement rates didn't even begin to cover the costs (occasionally that excuse sounds like a base cannard, but when you start figuring in all of the costs of staffing and equipment, sometimes it's legit), paperwork and bureaucratic red tape causing children to be dropped from programs they qualify for and then taking too long to rectify the problems (Texas has been struggling with some vast red tape problems), and on and on.

I truly admire those people who can organize groups and write-in campaigns and work the system in such a way that politicians and appropriate executives are embarrassed into making things right for large numbers of people. I realize that I'm not one of them. My strong suit is more along the lines of agitating in the background, poking and prodding at things and lifting up the stuff that gets missed. For example, one of the things I noticed at the meeting was a lack of representation of those affected by various disabilities. Don't you think they might be prime candidates for advocating for adequate healthcare for all? But I digress ...

I think it's fairly obvious that our healthcare system is broken. My mom's biggest fear is that healthcare will be rationed if we convert to some kind of universal healthcare system. It continues to bug me that I'm not able to convince my own mom that rationing is already taking place. It's just that we ration according to one's ability to pay. At which point I cry "Not fair! Not fair!" Yet she worries incessantly if one of her kids or grandkids is in a position where they don't have health insurance. *shakes head*

The one thing this meeting convinced me of is that the system is quite broken. Oh! I knew that, but hadn't seen all of the pieces together at one time. How can we fix it? Lord, I don't know! But I'm not convinced that the only way to fix it is piecemeal with one portion of this huge state getting a concession here and another getting a concession there. It seems to me that if enough people put their heads and their petitions and their voices together, comprehensive change could become a possibility.

The one thing they said over and over at this meeting was that local people have power. What if we all began a campaign to push and prod our elected officials to change the system for the good, regardless of who's lobbying for what? You get enough people on the bandwagon, the number of votes might cancel out the effect of the lobbying dollars lurking in the shadows. I wonder what it would take to start a national initiative for a change in the state of our health. Any suggestions?

Riddle Me This

2008-03-22T01:20:00.002-05:00

I realize I haven't posted in a while. Poor blog! The creative juices have been focused in other areas recently.

But this just plain begs for some kind of comment. I finally got around to reading the Houston Chronicle front page. Below the fold, there's a man standing on the hood of his vehicle using a cellphone. OK - slightly odd, but not totally beyond the realm of possibility.

His vehicle is halfway submerged in flood waters and he's a good football field length away from solid ground!

Why on earth would anyone drive around a barricade to drive through water that's obviously more than a couple of inches deep?

Does this person NEVER watch tv and has he NEVER seen vehicles floating downstream on even relatively small amounts of water over the road? This kind of thing just totally bamboozles me! What the heck was he thinking? I sincerely hope that the government rescue units that were required to get this idiot back to solid ground have a way to charge him an arm and a leg for his stupidity. Perhaps that, plus the major expense of repairing his vehicle (if the darned thing doesn't end up floating away downstream and getting destroyed in the process), might make him think twice before trying that stunt again.

Feed the Hungry

2008-02-04T20:11:00.000-06:00

Improve your vocabulary while helping to feed the hungry. There's a website where you test your vocabulary and for each word you get correct, you donate 20 grains of rice through the United Nations to help end world hunger.

This site is insidious and educational. Yesterday over 91 million grains were donated. This is a program that apparently started in October and has already given more than 17 billion (yes, that billion with a b)grains.

Hey! Why not take a few minutes out of your day, improve your wordpower, and help the world? Seems like a good plan to me!

Betrayal of a Meltdown

2008-02-04T11:08:00.000-06:00

To be clear up-front - Britney Spears generally isn't high on my news radar and I don't particularly intend to make any change in that position. However, as I was scanning the papers this morning I noticed the articles about her stay at the psychiatric hospital being extended for an additional 14 days. What caught my eye was the phrase "according to a source who asked to remain anonymous because they were not authorized to release the information" (or something like that - I don't have it in front of me right now).

Excuse me! I sincerely hope the hospital tracks down that leak and fires their sorry ass ASAP!!

It's obvious the poor woman's life has spiraled out of control and she's in need of help. But if her name had been Jane Doe or Jack Roe or any other essentially anonymous person, no one at the hospital would have even acknowledged that a person of such a name even existed.

It's hard enough to undergo psychiatric treatment without having every glance, shrug, sigh, tear, or tirade plastered across the world-wide media. Then to have some lowlife who wants a little bit of "secret" notoriety, to be able to snicker behind their hand to themselves that they were the one to expose the poor woman at her worst, blab that more help is needed (as if that wasn't obvious) ... well, isn't it called "piling on" in football?

It's safe to say that the longer I type, the angrier I'm getting. What this person has done is actually a prosecuteable crime, one which rarely is followed through on, but definitely should be. If there were clear consequences for the perpetrators, it would be less likely to happen when someone with a famous name is involved.

It wouldn't surprise me that somewhere in the addled brains of those who need help, especially celebrities, there's this truly skewed desire to completely melt down in public rather than risk someone revealing the secret psyche that must be revealed in order for healing to happen. I'll acknowledge that sometimes it's the visible meltdown that leads to getting essential help; however, once there ... LEAVE THEM THEIR PRIVACY!!!!! The broken trust perpetuated by the person who blabbed, and the media who chose to share the news, is often what keeps celebrities and non-celebrities from getting the psychiatric help they need.

I also admit that there are much more significant problems in the world today that need to be addressed. Yet there are so many people who could legitimately benefit from counseling and treatment, who might be among those who would harm themselves and others, who might even be open to addressing their psychological issues, if they were reasonably certain that their lives would not be bared to the entire world. Perhaps if we were able to address some of these issues in the confines of a counselor's office or a treatment center, some of the violence and hatred and inhumanity to others could be eliminated and our society as a whole become a more wholesome experience.

Recovery Con't.

2008-01-29T10:59:00.000-06:00

They finally got around to it. Two and a half years after Her Horribleness roared through the area, and I'm not sure quite how long it's been since the federal government allocated the buckos, the state is finally - get this - getting ready to accept applications for local residents to apply for funding to repair their homes. They haven't quite finalized the criteria and what the grants will be, but are expected to start the process around the first of February.

Mind you - the buckos won't actually be available until around September. THREE YEARS after the devastation. The funding is for the low income, elderly, and disabled families in the area, those without resources of their own or insurance to repair their broken homes.

During this time, non-profits have been doing their best to help these families, and some 1600 homes have been repaired. For some of these homes, repairs were begun, but not yet completed, due to sufficient resources not being available.

There was actually a first round of funding which apparently only repaired 13 homes in the year since the funds were released. Ridiculous! The way the contract was written, it has become more feasible for the contractors to declare the cost of rehabilitation as being too prohibitive, so demolition and replacement became the modus operandi.

In one case, the local non-profits had already spent $13,000 toward repair of the home, and the contractors deemed it beyond hope, demolished it, and are building a replacement. Giving the contractors the benefit of the doubt, it may have been an appropriate decision. However, no one even checked to see if any repair work had been done on the home or to see if alternatives might have salvaged the $13,000 already spent on this home. As it stands (or doesn't), that's $13,000 which could have been allocated elsewhere. *very deep sigh*

For this round of funding, the state is currently allowing a maximum of $25,000 in repairs before deeming the house unsalvagable and tossing it to the contractors to demolish and replace. Sorry, but any house sitting with significant hurricane damage repairs for over two years will require more than $25,000 in repair. However, it may still be possible to repair the home for less than the cost of demolition and replacement.

Which would be the wiser use of what are admittedly limited resources? Repair of homes which may be possible through a combination of funding, donated resources, and volunteer labor at less than replacement cost or destroying and replacing homes? It seems to me that before completely writing off the possibility of repair that repair shuld be the FIRST option, especially if it frees up resources for additional families in the area.

Another aspect of repair over replacement, when possible, is the psychological boost that such a choice could provide. I've gone through all sorts of interesting responses to this situation while my home was being repaired. However, being back in my own home has been a triumph over the devastation that Hurricane Rita wreaked in my life. We've battled back to wholeness, the house and I. There's something empowering in that accomplishment.

I don't think that watching my house being razed and then starting over would have quite the same effect. Could be wrong, though, especially if I were the one to decide on what the replacement house would be like (within limits, of course).

That won't be true for these families whose homes will be demolished and replaced. Those decisions will be completely out of their hands. These are people who have already experienced a huge chunk of their lives being taken out of their hands by Her Horribleness, then living in limbo for over two years. Can you imagine how devastating it could be for some anonymous contractor coming in, declaring your best and most valuable asset hopeless, then telling you that the decisions regarding your future home is in some anonymous else's hands?

So much good could be accomplished with these recovery funds. I hope that it comes to pass ... but I'm not counting on it.

Mush for Brains Season

2008-01-18T21:19:00.000-06:00

It's that time of year again. Allergy season. Bleah!

Almost every year about this time, as the weather vacillates between almost spring and maybe winter, my sinuses gripe, grouse, and complain. First, they get really busy and my head stuffs up. Thinking is much like trying to bat my way through piles of cotton and wool. It's a frustrating feeling to know that there's a thought or idea rumbling around in there and not be able to catch up with it. Mush for brains, part 1.

Sometimes it's possible to short-circuit the whole process and divert the sinus machine from its task. Not this time. When you get to the point where a head-ectomy seems like a wonderful idea, it's time to bring in the pros.

I go to a wonderful doctor who is great at helping me fight off the periodic infections that send me into mush-for-brains-land. This year has been especially bad and the usual medications haven't kicked those bugs out of my system. This time he's had to add a different antihistamine/cough suppressant to the bug-killer cocktail. It's helping, but is one of those that produces a brain fog, so driving and thinking while using it is not a good plan. Mush for brains, part 2.

I'll be so glad when Mush for Brains Season is over. If it's ever over in this neck of the woods. *sigh*

The Magical Mystery of Appliances

2008-01-07T09:47:00.000-06:00

What is it about appliances?

After the enforced idleness of two years of waiting to be used after Her Horribleness blew through and wreaked havoc, I had to replace my washer, dryer, and dishwasher. New equipment was purchased and duly installed by the appropriate installer persons. Upon installation, all worked to factory specifications. Well, that is, all except the gas dryer which required a somewhat unique fitting that the installer person didn't have, since I was switching back to the updated (by a licensed plumber) gas connection.

While getting the house back to liveable condition, I washed all of the dishes in the dishwasher. And washed. And washed. And washed. And washed. .... Okay, the stupid thing got stuck on the wash cycle and wouldn't go to dry. Let's get real! It doesn't take over two hours for a load of dishes that needs only light cleaning to go through the whole cycle. It's under warranty, so I call out the repairperson, who comes the day after Hurricane Humberto hit town and we're without power. Apparently, having the repairperson park in the driveway of the house was sufficient. It now works perfectly.

Next on the sick list was the dryer. It dried. And dried. And dried. And dried. ... Yeah, I know! This is becoming a habit. Three hours for a gas dryer to dry a relatively small load is highly unusual. It's under warranty. Call repairperson. This time the guy made it into the house. Turns out that several centuries of lint was stuck in the exterior vent. (I'd had the foresight to completely replace the flexible part.) Gas dryers have a safety that won't let it heat up too much if the lint thingy isn't working exactly right. Remove lint. Machine works perfectly. (I'll admit - this repair call was actually legitimate and a cry for help by the dryer.)

THEN, the washer decides to go on the fritz. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Shoot! The person on the repair line even heard the beastie making its annoying metallic sound. The repairperson arrives at the house this morning, turns on the machine, and ... You've guessed it! NOTHING!! Not a single abnormal sound to be heard. It's working perfectly at the moment.

What is it about appliances? (and copiers and computers ...) Sometimes it seems as though they simply want someone who understands them to come by and hold their hands. The microwave and stove came with the house, and the stove has been having conversations with my handyperson friend. I suspect we'll finally get that thermostat problem fixed one of these days.

My refrigerator is old enough to have settled into the routine and hasn't required the tender ministrations of a repairperson since the first couple of years I owned it. I'm afraid it may get jealous and decide to act up! Shhhhhhhh! Don't let it know that I'm seeing the repairperson!

A New Year Already?

2008-01-02T09:14:00.000-06:00

2008 snuck up on me. It can't be 2008 already!! I mean, it's still just a couple of days past Christmas, right? Right? ... Not right?? Rats!

It's not like I really want it to still be 2007. Much of 2007 was spent longing to be back in my own home, a mission now accomplished. Guess I'm busy "should-ing" on myself, and that's a pasttime worthy of being left behind. "Should-ing" will only bang your head against a brick wall of futility, especially when it comes to the things one "should have done" last year!

While there are only about 6 somewhat little things to be accomplished before the mortgage inspector's happy with the tasks completed and willing to let go of the last umpty-1,000 of the insurance money, they require skills and abilities I just don't have. Well, I can paint, and probably will when the exterior conditions coincide with free time to accomplish said painting. I'm also hoping to enlist the slave labor of my son for the painting task, which may or may not be an exercise in futility.

Today is a totally beautiful day - bright blue skies, sun shining gloriously! But it doesn't look like the temperature is going to be above about 50, and the internet paint gurus strongly recommend that the temperature be above 60 if you're going to paint outside. *sigh* The Weather Channel seems to suggest that THAT might happen on the weekend ...

...

...

wait for it ...

when it's supposed to rain! So much for the weather cooperating on getting the painting done.

*very deep sigh*

Some day the confluence of weather, working conditions, and volunteer slave labor will be perfect for the completion of the tasks. I'm hoping it's soon. It'd be really wonderful for the new year to see the completion of all the house repair tasks related to Her Horribleness. I have plans for a House Blessing this year, but I'm not a-gonna do it until I can include a "Goodbye" to all of the hurricane scars on my house.

Perhaps that'll help with healing the hurricane scars in my soul.

I'll Be Home for Christmas ...

2007-12-24T19:41:00.000-06:00

...not only in my dreams!

Somehow, being back in my own home this year is truly making this year a special Christmas. Not perfect, mind you, but special in a comforting sort of way.

I've always enjoyed the Christmas Eve service, and the same held true tonight. Part of what I enjoy is that, as pastor, it's a "low maintenance" worship service. There's no sermon or meditation to prepare, just Scriptures and hymns to choose and the standard Communion liturgy to prepare.

There's something incredibly appropriate about this service being so simple. There is simplicity amidst glory in the birth narratives. So, I like to let the whole service bask in the simplicity of members doing the readings and the congregation singing the Christmas hymns. This year, we even ended up doing the service a capella, since our accompanist had to work this evening. There are plenty of strong voices in the congregation, so it went well.

There are always the unexpected glitches that make things special, too. When it came time to serve Communion, we had four elders come to the front and we only needed two. How beautiful that all of them wanted to participate! One of our youth dropped his piece of bread before it was dipped in the juice. So, he reached down, picked it up, blew on it, and dipped ... to chuckles throughout the sanctuary.

One of our members got a brand new puppy for Christmas. She snuck her into the service in a large handbag, and she behaved so well. I think I only heard something out of the pup once. One of our church matriarchs made it to the worship service tonight. She doesn't get around very well, or hear very well, but there was no way she was going to sit in her seat and have Communion brought to her! So, with help, she made it up to the front (after grousing quite loudly that she wasn't going to wait). *smile*

And, then we sang Silent Night as the candles were lit, to the accompaniment of a guitar. Beautiful! Simple! Uplifting!

So, now I'm home. Enjoying the moment and looking forward to tomorrow, 'cuz I'll be home for Christmas this year ... and it's certainly not a dream!

Merry Christmas, Everyone!!