One Kind of Work

For over 2,000 years Christians have tried to do the work of the Lord. Usually that work involves organizing worship experiences, teaching the Bible, and caring for those in need, for example. Occasionally, however, the work of the church has been something a lot less pleasant.
One has only to think of the Crusades to begin to understand that what the Church considers “work” can be in the form of battle. And those who founded our country understood that work for Christ involved much hardship and change. We may be in for that kind of work again.

We have grown complaisant in our Christianity. For over 200 years Christians in our country have been free to worship God in peace. There have been occasional trials and tribulations, but for the most of us, being a Christian has meant going to church on Sunday (or not), saying our prayers, supporting charitable causes, studying the Bible, and generally acknowledging that we are followers of the Christ.

There are days of turmoil, change and conflict on the horizon. Other religious and political movements are growing rapidly, and they don’t adhere to the same rules as we are accustomed to. Their goal is to subdue the whole population of the world, and there is no room for Christianity in their plans. What we do about the situation is a conundrum, one that requires much thought and prayer.

It reminds me of the story of the peacock and the dove that was told to the class of Psychology 101 at Bradley University in 1956. Professor Smith was explaining to us freshmen that different cultures behave in different ways. He told about an experiment that was to pit two aggressors: a peacock and a dove (The dove being the symbol of “peace.”) In peacock culture, when one is getting the worst of a fight, all one has to do is to lay ones neck out on the ground, and the aggressor recognizes the signal as crying “uncle!” Doves don’t have the same rules of warfare. When the two birds tangled, the peacock finally had enough of it, and he laid his neck out on the ground. The dove pecked him to death.

We try to be peaceful people just as Christianity has taught us. There may come a day, however, when our work will be to stand up to those who would eliminate Christianity in our country and in the world. We need to do some work toward figuring out just what we will do and just when we’ve had enough….before we stick our necks out on the ground.

High Style

I’ve been told that it is no longer fashionable to wear pantyhose (or any nylons, for that matter). I hope it isn’t true. I see lots of young women with bare legs, but I still think they look like heck. It's a rare leg that is tanned to the correct degree. Also, my feet stick to shoes when there’s no sock between skin and shoe, and I can’t see how it could be any different for other women. Very uncomfortable.
I wear pantyhose every single day of the year. It started when I was teaching and felt I had to wear them. Then I retired and didn't like shoes without socks, and I HATE the look of old women with anklets on! I don't like knee-highs, because sooner or later (if you're wearing a skirt) the tops of them are going to show.
When I had to start wearing compression knee highs, I found out that a pair of panty hose over them worked just fine. Now I'm so used to wearing the things that they don't even make me feel hot. My temperature-adjusting features are all above my waist anymore.
I put on my hose first thing in the morning and don't take them off till bedtime. I guess I’m the one out of fashion: I "dress up" every day with make-up, earrings and hose. As soon as I leave my bedroom, I’m ready to do whatever comes up…except go swimming or sunbathing. The only concession I've made to style is that I now wear "walking shoes," instead of flats.
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It's a Sad Day!

Oh, what a sad day! This is a day we will remember forever! Gidget, the Taco Bell chihuahua, died! He was the most famous dog on the planet, and now he's gone. Life will never be the same. [I wonder if he had a doctor in attendance and drugs percolating through his system like another famous male recently-dead.]

Blessings

In youth, we know for certain that we are fully alive and a good life stretches out endlessly before us. In our middle age, we know that we are living the way we are supposed to live and most of us feel that we are on the righteous path. We work in and for the church; we give to the poor; we honor the old in our midst; we take good care of our children, and we’re generally certain that we’re doing the best we can. The senior years, however, bring a new certainty, the positive knowledge that until now, we didn’t really know anything.
It is when life has removed some of our capabilities from us that we fully appreciate the blessings they were. When we can no longer get around freely, we understand the richness of unaided, unpainful movement. When we can no longer see well, we “see” that sight is one of our richest blessings. When our hearing fails and we’re deprived of easy communication with others, we recognize that good hearing is a pearl beyond compare. When our friends (and sometimes our kin) die, we know the importance of life, friends and family.
It’s no fun growing old, and it’s difficult to grow old gracefully and without complaint. Visiting Marie and being unable to communicate with her because her hearing aid is lost brought a frustration to us, and we couldn’t help empathize with her. But what she said to us was, “I’ve had a good life!” As powerless as she was to talk with us, she still had a smile on her face and happy words on her lips. Now, that’s the wisdom and blessing of age!

Vacations

Age 5-21: Trip to visit someone I like.
Age 21-35: Trip to visit family that doesn't live close.
Age 35-65: Trip somewhere, anywhere
Age 65-70: Trip I'd rather not take.
Once in awhile I do get that urge to take to the road, remembering the good old days when it was thrilling to start on a vacation. A sudden happiness wells up in me and I'm really happy about driving somewhere.
But it's gotten so I would much prefer to stay home. My bed is comfortable (and doesn't cost $70 a night); the food is cheap and it's what I want to eat (not what the restaurant has to offer); I can water my flowers and bring in my own mail and papers, and most importantly, all my "stuff" is handy.
I hear others waxing poetic about the vacation they're about to take, and they just can't wait to get away. I may have felt that way one time, but now I have to MAKE myself want to go. I enjoy the trip while I'm on it, but if I didn't go, I'd be just as happy. The only really good thing about "getting away" is that the telephone doesn't ring all day with telemarketers.
Actually the trips I would like to take are all relatively short ones: to my daughters' homes, to visit my favorite cousin (100 miles), and to my brother-in-law's place in a nearby town.
You'll hear me rave about how much I like to "get away," but I lie.

Michael Jackson's Dead

I can't let Michael Jackson die (yesterday) without registering my opinion.
Talk about media hype! Talk about inane celebrity frenzy! Talk about ridiculous statements as to MJ's fame! I actually heard a Fox News reporter/announcer/whatever say that "this day will go down in history as one of the saddest ever!" And "Michael Jackson is the most famous man on this planet." And "Everyone will remember what they were doing when they learned that MJ was dead." (I'll bet Mr. Obama disagrees with the second of those quotes!)
Aw, c'mon! MJ was an entertainer, for cripes sake. He's no more famous or memorable than any of the other greats, and who can even recall them after a few years, let alone a generation? I remember where I was when I learned John F. Kennedy was dead, and my parents remembered where they were when they heard the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. But Michael Jackson is far from being important enough to merit such memories from the majority of people on this planet, let alone this country.
There have been oodles of famous, wonderful, important people who have died in my lifetime, but to say that MJ was the greatest is absurd.
People who think MJ's death is such a tragedy that they have to drop everything and go mourn need to "get a life!"

How I Got Religion

So, how did you learn your religion? I’ve heard of people who got theirs from Sunday School and a few who had parents or grandparents who read the Bible every evening. But I think I got my grounding by singing hymns and carols.

One of the first songs I learned was “Jesus Loves Me,” and I’ve discovered that my little Sunday-schooled grandchildren have learned it also. When I played the piano at a nursing home, everyone, no matter what their age or mental state, could and did sing “Jesus Loves Me.” I still believe that He loves me, and nothing that has happened to me in life has disabused me of that belief.

“What a Friend We Have in Jesus” was popular at our Sunday School, but it was also one that my grandmother played and sang. I have no memory for poetry, but I know most of the words to this hymn, and it’s theology hangs in my head even when people tell me that God couldn’t possibly listen to what all us myriad people have to say.

Grandma loved “The Old Rugged Cross,” and I do, too. There’s something haunting and yet satisfying about the words, and the music is just right. She also sang “Abide With Me,” “May the Lower Lights Be Shining,” and “In the Garden.” I think they are universal favorites.

Until recently every school child learned Christmas carols at school as well as at church. “Silent Night” is the most oft recorded song in the world, and the picture it makes of Jesus’ birth is just “how it was,” as far as most are concerned. Where was Jesus born? In the little town of Bethlehem, of course. Who came to see him? Harald angels, shepherds watching their flocks by night, and wise men traveling from afar.

When I was 14 I started taking piano lessons from Miss Johnson who was the music director and organist at a Christian Church in my city. She got me into the youth choir, and for four years I sang choir music, even participating in Handel’s Messiah four times. (I still think the alto part is the tune.) One of the songs we sang was “For God So Love the World,” and I loved that song! I can sing it today, albeit with the alto as melody.

One of my most embarrassing moments came when I was quite grown and had been “out of the church” for 13 years. One time some of my church friends kept mentioning John 3:16, and I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. Finally I demanded, “What IS John 3:16?” They looked at me like I was a yokel, couldn’t believe I wouldn’t know it. When they repeated it, I said, “Oh, I know that one!” And I did. From singing it as an anthem.

I’ve had a lifetime of studying the Bible and theology, but I think the basis of all my religion is what I learned by singing with others the hymns, carols and anthems of our faith.