My BFF!

Every two years my office sends me south for a conference. It has been my extreme pleasure to stop in Seattle on the way home and spend a couple of days with my friend Lisa. Lisa and I have been friends now, oh, forever and a day (15 years). We are not the most likely people to grow attached to each other. She is thin, I'm...well, let it suffice to say that I am NOT. Lisa is amazingly talented in the musical department, I'm only mediocre. She is an extremely light and silent sleeper, while I sleep deep and "whiffle". She informed me that my "wiffle turned into a waffle" that last night and she tried to give me that devastating evil eye look she has so polished, but with her hair tousled and her sleepy look, I felt no threat what-so-ever! We both love reading though and exchange book ideas at every opportunity. She is my BFF!

Rich and Tom, our husbands, tend to look the other way when Lisa and I are together. They are left out of the private jokes, the hotel stay, long dinners and window shopping trips we share. They shake their heads when we return without packages from shopping and once again we explain it's not the shopping so much as it is talking and sharing.

The down side of our visit is leaving. After laughing and sharing for 48 hours solid, I miss her as soon as I get on the airporter (she hates goodbyes at the airport). Now it is emails and a stolen 45 minutes of telephone time if our families will allow. Carrumba! Only 23 more months, Lisa, and I'll be camping on your doorstep!

The Harvest

We are back in that wonderful season of crispy leaves, juicy apples and cool mornings! Fall! I love it! We have had several days of sunshine and we are relishing it since our summer was so cloudy and cool.

It's a great feeling to know that the raspberries are all picked and are either frozen or made into jam. There is something about harvesting and preserving that brings a real sense of satisfaction. Even though the urgency of the harvest is a pain, the cupboard shelves full of dark red jam makes me feel I'm prepared for the winter.

My husband, Tom, was born a Wisconsin farmer. The harvest is very unsettling for him. It made him crazy to see the raspberries ripening every day and no one running out to frantically pick them before they fell to the ground. I'm a more relaxed reaper. I enjoy being out in the backyard alone with my MP3 player on a Saturday afternoon when my household chores are done and the kids are all doing what they do on a weekend. I can pick a few for the bowl, eat a few, watch the neighbor kids at play, stretch, etc. Tom has the need to be out at the bushes when the berries are perfect, morning, noon or night! One evening he picked a bowlful of berries and left them on the picnic table to stay cool overnight so we could freeze them in the morning. Not the best idea, the camp robbers (black and white birds who's real name of which I haven't a clue) were chowing down on his hard earned harvest! Lucy, the watch dog, smiled at them as they feasted... We rescued the bowl of berries and added them to our store of frozen summer sunshine.

The harvest is a complicated time. I imagine that's why Jesus talked so much of the "harvest." The urgency of the harvest, caring for the harvest and preserving the harvest. Harvest season is definately not the time to rest, there will time for that when the snow lays deep over the fields (or raspberry bushes) and the darkness of long nights keeps us close to the home fires. We will be able to enjoy the satisfaction of knowing the fruits of our labors are safely where they belong.

Knitting on Spider Legs

Fall is here and I'm jealous of the children and adults heading off to school! I did sign up for a Homiletics course at my local AG Bible College. That helps some. I also signed up for a sock knitting class. Now that is FUN!

The yarn I chose for my socks is a self striping yarn and it is also very fine...skinny in fact. Due to the skinniness of my yarn I also had to use skinny needles....four of them! To top it off, the main color of my yarn is steel gray and of course my needles are, what else, steel! Add the skinny factor of my yarn and needles, the indistinct color of gray and steel, my middle-aged failing eyesight together and the total is trouble!

The next challenge I faced was using four needles on one project! I have seen this done and it looks deceivingly easy! First of all I had to divide 54 stitches into even groups of 4 on 3 needles. They didn't tell me it was also a math class and story problems always throw me for a loop. Once I got the stitches on the needles I was ready to get down to knitting business! Knit two, purl two, knit two, purl two...that I got down pretty quickly, it was how to hold all the needles pointing this way and that that made me crazy! It was like knitting on spider legs. I chanced a gander at all the other beginning sock knitters around me and noticed the strained and determined faces as they concentrated on keeping yarn and needles all straight. It was at this point that the teacher explained secret of reducing "4 needle stress", concentrate only on the two needles you are working on and ignore the other two! They will just fade into the background when you focus! What a deal! It worked! Suddenly foreheads unwrinkled, protruding tongues were pulled back into suddenly smiling mouths and peace reigned supreme at the knitters' table!

As I juggle work, home, church, class and even knitting, I find myself often feeling like my life is being knit on spider legs. I feel poked and tangled by the things waiting for my attention. I'm learning to focus on the "stitches" nearest me at the moment and the confusion of the "yarn and waiting needles" patiently wait their turn. Suddenly I can relax and even enjoy the portion of my day I'm concentrating on at the moment. My forehead relaxes and my smile returns...Sigh! It's nice to not be unraveled.

A Literary Moment

An afternoon at the Library is a lovely thing, especially if the day is rainy and on the chilly side, as most of Alaska's summer has been this year. My youngest son, TJ, and I have made many trips this summer, it's a great bonding time for us and you can take something home for FREE!

In addition to checking out the limit of books and movies, we always take time to browse through the discarded books that are looking for good homes. Once they were all of the science fiction genre, another time they were cookbooks. Today most of the free books consisted of "more power to the women" books, not of much interest to my 17 year old tough guy. He did, however manage to find a book or two to add to his home library as did I (Sketches, by Washington Irving...YES!!!). TJ and I carried our treasure out to the car, stopped for pizza and ice cream (I only had one bite...honestly!), and then home to review our booty! There stuck between the cover of my hard back book and a video was a small paper back. "TJ," I say, "I think I have one of your books in my stack, it's called...." To my surprise I noticed the unmistakable logo of Harlequin on the top of the cover and a ooh-la-la picture of a passionately embracing couple! "TJ!" I call as I hold the book for his viewing, "I'm surprised you want to read The Spaniard and the Pregnancy Proposal (No lie! That was the name of the book!). "Mom," he coolly says, "That's YOUR book!" Well! I haven't read a Harlequin since high school! After all, I am an accomplished reader! I selected Washington Irving, not.....whoever it was that penned this little, dare I say it, trashy novel! As it turned out, I inadvertently picked up two other books that were in a stack that I had, I think, set MY stack on top of.

The dilemma here, as I see it, is what to do with the SPP book. I really hate throwing books away, but don't feel I can in good conscience send it to the good will with all the "good" books I have ready to donate, ...good taste and all that jazz... Hmmm. Well, until I decide I guess I'll just put it safely on my nightstand....Yawn! I think I'll take a little nap : )

Dreams, Hopes, Wishes

Dreams...Hopes....Wishes.... Words that thrust us toward the future. It seems to me that those words have been popping up on a regular basis lately. Our pastor preached about the dreams of Joseph on Sunday; we have been studying about the hope of Abraham on Wednesday night; and who doesn't associate the word wishes with a little green bug with a top hat and cane?

Suddenly I'm reevaluating my dreams. I have had those late night dreams that sort out my chaotic thoughts and feelings of my waking hours. My sister, Masha, helps me form them into plausible and sometimes hilarious interpretations. My hopes tend to run toward the usual: I hope I loose a pound this week, I hope our car holds out another year, I hope I remembered to turn the coffee pot off this morning. And what of my wishes?

• Starlight, star bright,


• first star I see tonight,


• I wish I may I wish I might


• Have the wish I wish tonight...

At this point I close my eyes, cross my fingers and mumble, "I wish to go on a three month cruise to the Greek Ilse." Even as I'm wishing I know it ain't a-gonna happen! I'm so sorry, but "when you wish upon a star..." more than likely your dreams will not come true. Yes, Jiminy Cricket lied...

As an adult I can deal with this truth, although it is rather disappointing. But that's where hope comes in.

Joseph's strange nocturnal visions eventually came to pass, but he had to wait for the cup bearer's (fortunate man) and baker's (poor man) dreams to come to pass. The coming of Joseph's dreams was also the result of Pharaoh's two dreams. Of course Abraham's dreams were waking visions bringing him a hope of children by the dozens! Although his dreams came true, he never actually saw the heirs too numerous to count, except from Heaven's shores. And what of Pinocchio's wish to be a "real boy"? Well, in fairy tales dreams do come true, and he became a real boy, loved by his creator, Gipetto.

I'm not sure where my dreams, hopes and wishes are taking me, even at this semi-late date in my life. I do know there are things I want to accomplish, places I want to go, things I want to see, but wishing will not take me there, somehow my hopes are linked to my faith, and my dreams will come about by the grace of God, blessing my efforts.

So..., I will make a move toward pursuing the dream, in hopes of fulfilling God's plan for me, and please...wish me well!

Bumping Behinds

It's a beautiful day in Anchorage, AK, so I jumped at the chance to take a deposit to the bank for my office. I have never been entrusted with this much coveted task since I am somewhat of a lower end employee, but since most of the office is on vacation I had my long awaited shot! I took the very important looking black bag and hid it behind my purse to discourage any pick-pockets that might be lurking in the shadows for an unsuspecting, important employee, such as myself. With heart pounding, I checked out all the cars in the parking lot of the bank to determined that no one suspicious was watching and darted toward the double doors. Once inside the pleasantly cool lobby a voice interrupted my visual sweep of the perimeter, "May I help you?" she asked? "Yes," I answered in my most efficient, business like attitude, " I would like to make a deposit." Amazingly, the teller counted my funds, tip-tip-tapped a secret code on her computer and the deed was done. Having felt like I had accomplished an important task, I casually strolled back to my car and began the process of backing up.

Do you know that sickening feeling when you come to the top of the worlds tallest roller coaster and zoom towards earth at a heart stopping speed? It's the same feeling you get when you feel a spine jarring jolt and hear that "WHOMP" sound of two bumpers slamming together. Suddenly that very important, accomplished feeling I had a split second before vanished and there I was, an idiot in a parking lot who didn't bother looking twice in the rear view mirror. I did what all good Christian girls do at that moment, prayed, "Oh God, please don't let that person swear at me....!" Thankfully, it was a little elderly lady with perfectly white hair and a little powder blue, polyester pant suit who was backing at the same time I was. She exited the other car and obviously had been praying the same prayer I had just prayed. We checked out our "bumped behinds" and quickly determined there was no damage except for some dust knocked from the bumpers and a dent in our pride. We exchanged smiles and "good days" instead of insurance info and carefully drove away from the parking lot.

Funny how that little quote from the Good Book is so true, "Pride goes before a fall (behind bump in this case)." I am happy to report I am back to my comfy lower end employee position and my pride has been sufficiently deflated, for the moment.

This Hallowed Ground

I had the honor of speaking to a women's group the other night. My topic was in reference to suffering and my scripture text was from 2 Corinthians. Paul lists a whole plethora of things our suffering does for us, but one that caught my attention was how suffering makes us revere those who have suffered honorably.

November, 1863, several months after the battle of Gettysburg (July 1-3), President Lincoln was invited to make a "few appropriate remarks" at the consecration of a cemetery for the Union war dead. It was delivered at the dedication of the Soldiers National Cemetery in Gettysburg, PA, on the afternoon of Thursday, November 19, 1863, Lincoln delivered a speech that was only three minutes in duration. The following is an excerpt from his Gettysburg Address.

“But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.”

Lincoln sensed that it didn't matter what he said, he could not consecrate what was already made reverent by the suffering of Union and Confederate soldiers dying in horrible pain for what they believed to be freedom. If you were to visit the Soldiers National Cemetery this summer, that same hallowedness would still permeate the atmosphere and you would hear people hush their voices, remove their hats and lower their gaze in honor of those laid to rest on that battlefield, and hopefully realize it was done on their behalf.

The elements of Communion are sacred because of the suffering they represent. The bread-the broken, crushed Body. The wine-the freely flowing Blood. As I hold them in my human hands, I am amazed at their holiness made available to me though the suffering of Christ, done on my behalf.

Today, I think of someone I would honor who has suffered for the things he has believed in, but I cannot make holy the "ground", for his suffering has already accomplished this task. However, to you, I do give my heart felt regards and undying respect.