Benediction/Invocation of too many to-do's, not enough time, and life, Lent

Much to mull over, consider, pursue--
more than I humanly can.

Lord, help me discern,
decipher and delegate,

decide the dogged:
"to do or not do?"

And then...
Deem the ream of to-do's:
Redeemed!

By the Father of time,
Son of "the hour has come," and the
Spirit of truth in lending--

for truly,
my time is but lent.

As the time of Lent approaches,
reproaching me for frittered minutes:

"Teach me to number my days aright,
that I may gain a heart of wisdom."

Amen.

Truth on a grocery list

I was tidying up our main living space this morning, muttering to myself about the incredible accumulation of crumbs, paper scraps, raisins, M&Ms, and broken bits of crayon on the floor I’d just swept yesterday. I was breathing sighs of gratitude for hardwood, not carpet; and I was mentally churning over the array of chores and errands available for my attention today. 

I need to make a list! I realized. Grabbing the nearest scrap of paper littering the living room, along with a Halloween-themed pencil, I scribbled, ironically: paper. The stack we keep by the computer—the one that gets raided regularly for craft projects and ends up in pieces on the hardwood floor—was gone. Next, toilet paper. Then juice, cheese, chocolate chips… (Some people would be grossed out by mixing grocery items with toiletries. Not me…not after living with infants and children for nearly 12 years.)

“What are you writing?” Pearl the master mess-maker inquired.

“Making a list of things we need,” I mumbled back, trying hard to channel the household deficiencies I’d noted recently onto the (literally) crummy piece of paper.

“Like toys?” she asked eagerly. My eyes scanned the kaleidoscopic collection of plastic entertainment cluttering our kid-friendly home.

“Of course,” I agreed, not wanting to lose focus to explain to her the meaning of “irony.”

Toys, I jotted on the list.

Satisfied, she went back to her mess-making. About a minute went by. I kept scribbling, she kept crafting.

“Did you write ‘Jesus’?” she wanted to know.

“Huh?”

“You should write ‘Jesus’ on the list,” she insisted.

“But I can’t buy Jesus at the store,” I said, very grown-up-like.

“But Jesus is definitely something we need!”

Amen, dear child, amen.

The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.  And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind. — C.S. Lewis

Words fail

These are dark, dark days in A-Town: Suspect could face first-degree murder charge. Since Saturday, when the news broke, I’m finding it hard to sleep, nevermind write. I know that such horrific things happen daily throughout the world, but this is the first time it’s happened a block and a half from my house. Heaven help us.

On codes and chemistry and endeavoring to comprehend and commune with the Creator

When I was a young chemist…ha! When I was a junior in high school, eeking my way through the science of atoms and elements and moles that were, in fact, beasts to be slain…I discovered that I could kind of cheat my way through with a completely clear conscience.

The trick I learned was to learn the formulas. Find out the secret codes that real chemistry students knew, convince one of the insiders to decode the formulas for me, and then store the classified information in my noggin. Hold it…hold it…hold it…until exam time.

At exam time, the moment the papers were distributed, I would scribble down all the formulas I had surreptitiously stored in my mind and then rummage around the test to find places I could apply the codes—the ones I had managed to comprehend and commit to memory. It was a brilliant plan. I couldn’t tell you a single one of those “codes” now, but what I learned was that I could get by; I could be resourceful; I could ascertain enough information to “make the cut”; and, by gum, I could rely on my short-term memory. All of these lessons have served me well in life.

And, by the way, I scored 80% on my Chemistry Regents exam; certainly not my highest grade ever, but considering my relative cluelessness about the subject matter, I count it among my most significant scholarly accomplishments.

I won’t dare say I have found a way to cheat my way to spiritual enlightenment (!), but I will say that the right resources sure do help a wretch like me. Case in point, The Guide to Prayer, a collection of prayers, hymns, readings and retreat plans edited by Rueben P. Job and Norman Shawchuck. I received the GTP as a gift from Northeastern Seminary when I graduated from there in 2004. Unlike the multitude of other devotional books that haven’t held my attention, I find myself returning to this one, again and again. My spirit is repeatedly enlightened by its contents, by its kaleidoscopic manner of graciously ushering me in the direction of the Source of all wisdom and strength. I highly recommend it.

A recent nugget gleaned from GTP (which coincidentally contains the term ‘code’):

“Obedience is indispensable. Not to a static code, however helpful it may be at times. But obedience to God, who is present with us in every situation and is speaking to us all the time. Every obedience, however small (if any obedience is ever small), quickens our sensitivity to him and our capacity to understand him and so makes more real our sense of his presence.”—From The Captivating Presence, by Albert Edward Day

Defying the doldrums

Hark! The February

funk encroacheth!

Resist, resist!

I shall not retreat

from my mundane itinerary—

I shall seize it!

Fold the laundry,

Make the meal,

Comfort the coughing baby, tenderly

~ tenderly ~

carry on with my ordinary life,

finding life itself

Extraordinary.

Hindered health among baptismal blessings

Yesterday, in a sweet ceremony attended by some of our dearest friends and relatives, our Lia was baptized. I thank God for the beauty of the day and the spirit of love that surrounded us. (Not to mention my blessed relief that attendees refrained from sparring with me regarding the sacramental significance of infant baptism. I simply wasn’t up for that, seminary education or not.)

Lovely as it was, I spent much of the morning feeling like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I could barely speak, afflicted with laryngitis or some such vocal chord impediment. I croaked out a little testimony about Lia’s name and the gift that she is to our family, but after the service I felt seriously hampered in my inclination to “work the room” (the church fellowship hall, in that case). I had invited the two dozen extra people who showed up in our support, and they happily meshed with the rest of our congregation for the so-called Loaf-n-Ladle Luncheon afterward (thus dubbed, no doubt, to duck the theologically dubious term “potluck”). I wanted to serve as hostess, but about all I could do was sit in the corner and smile, hunched over a homemade bowl of white chicken chili sprinkled with fresh cilantro (“cheers” to whomever brought the fresh cilantro).

In a way, I suppose my hindered health was also a blessing of the Spirit. Anything that suppresses my false notions of being in charge and/or the center of attention seems good for my soul. Humility accomplished (an oxymoronic benediction).

Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust, nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender, how firm to the end,
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.

Can you say, “Keen-wah”?

I don’t know if she coined the term, but my sister accurately labels the following phenomenon: You find out about something for the first time, and then, over the next few days or weeks, it keeps popping up—conversation at the gym, magazine article, radio reference, grocery store…it can get a little eerie. B calls the experience “déjà new.”

My most recent case of déjà new is called quinoa, a plant valued for its grain-like seed that’s also a complete protein. Oh, I think I’d seen the word in recipes in the past, but when Real Simple magazine identified it as a superfood that can solve all your problems in life (okay, they didn’t actually say so, but they implied it), I perked up and paid attention.

Presuming I would not find such a specialty item at my first-choice discount market (which is not Walmart), I looked for it at the A-Town Tops. “Excuse me,” I optimistically interrupted the stocky teen-aged stock boy. “Do you happen to know whether I might find something called ‘quin-oh-uh’ in this store?” “Uhhhhh…what is it?” he understandably replied. (I’d like to interject here to say that my own dear dad is a stocker at the B-Town Wegmans. When I related this story to him, he said he’d have told me I could find the mysterious product in the pharmacy dept. Dad’s humor.)

Three stock boys and 2 managers later, I discovered there’s no quin-oh-uh at A-Town Tops, but they do have it at the M-Town store. Well, that’s fine, and M-Town is only 12 minutes away, but I just don’t drive in that direction very often. So, instead, I sought out the miracle food at Dad’s B-Town W, where I learned it is pronounced “KEE-nwah” and it is Gluten Free. Bonus. (Lately, I have taken to fantasizing that perhaps I am lactose- or gluten- or nutrient- intolerant, and that is the reason I am having so much trouble shedding pounds…not anything at all to do with my over-consumption of Cake Mix Cookies and other carb-rich comfort foods.)

The very next day, I eagerly put my new friend Keenwah to the test and whipped up (“painstakingly plowed through” is more like it) the following recipe, which had been posted by a Facebook friend as part of the déjà new quinoa experience:

Quinoa-Stuffed Peppers

Quite possibly the most complicated recipe I’ve ever attempted, but also quite possibly the tastiest, healthiest meal I’ve ever served. Maybe my problems didn’t mysteriously disappear with consumption of this concoction, but, by gum, I’m pretty proud of myself for the effort. And a little boost of the spirits, a tad more culinary confidence, plus a whole lotta vitamins, sure help stave off the doldrums!

(Incidentally, my peppers turned out just like the photo, which reminded me of the Cheesy Bells A-Town entry of old. What goes around, comes around. I think I’ll dance the Hokey-Pokey today.)