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Welcome!
You’ve arrived at home base for Monday FunDay, a carnival dedicated to swapping simple, amusing–maybe even silly–everyday ways you enjoy good, clean fun.
Monday FunDay
To participate in Monday FunDay, just post a story, idea, or explanation at your blog of how you and/or your family has livened up Mondays (or any day).
Then link up via Mr. Linky below (if you don’t have a blog, simply explain your idea in the comments) and we’ll collect all the ideas in one place. Again, please remember: ideas must be squeaky-clean, family-friendly fun.
First, here’s Ann’s Family Friendly Monday Fun:
The other day I saw this cute public service TV ad encouraging kids (and adults) to get up and play (with three LPGA spokeswomen introducing “Be a player”). It’s a campaign to address childhood obesity.
Here are all the videos in one place.
The LPGA video shows kids playing kickball and leap frog, spinning in circles, and jumping rope. It looks and sounds like so much fun, I plan to take their advice and go outside with the kids to “get up and play” for at least an hour. They can do whatever they want, of course, but I might suggest jumping rope (and try it myself).
The Smallstep Kids website offered a link to a site that had ideas to get started with jumping rope. The site uses some animated line drawings to explain some ”stunts” to jazz up the jumping, and include a page with rhymes to chant while jumping. Click on a rhyme and a play button pops up. Click on it to hear kids chanting it. I think that musical element adds a layer of fun to the activity.
The main point of the campaign is to just get up on one’s feet and move around, play, and have fun. That’s exactly what we’ll do on Monday FunDay.
What about you?
Instructions for the WordPress Mr. Linky (which is different than the ones you’ll see on WFMW and other Typepad or Blogspot blogs):
1. Write your post. Type up your Monday FunDay edition and post it at your blog.
2. Come back to this post and click on Mr. Linky. A window will pop up.
3. Type in your name (or blog name) and if you like, you can include a short “teaser” for your idea in parenthesis. Something like this:
Ann K (get up and play)
3. Paste in your url. Below the spot for your name, there’s another for the url of your own post. Copy the url for your own Monday FunDay and paste it in (including the http:// part of it).
4. Press Enter. That’s it! It should be saved by Mr. Linky.
To see what others have posted, click on Mr. Linky and pay a visit to the fun bloggers who have joined in!
It’s fun to have fun, but you have to know how!
[Check out previous Monday FunDays]
I snapped this shot of The Belgian Wonder’s niece standing next to some of our kids as they stared at the Heaven Room at the Billy Graham Center, where the “Hallelujah Chorus” plays continuously.
Our niece, a student at Wheaton College, walked us through the exhibit during a campus tour.
I wanted to post this while I was there, but had trouble with the hotel connection, which was maddening.
A blogger with no Internet connection?
Argh!
I’ll tell you one thing:
It’s not heaven….
Meredith at Like Merchant Ships sent her readers over to a post at Et Tu? that compared mommybloggers to women gathering at the village well.
Such a fascinating comparison–a well-developed metaphor to ponder.
Back in January 2007, I wrote a post wondering if blogging was something like sticking messages in bottles and tossing them out to sea.
I wrote, “I was struck by the sheer numbers of blogs and suddenly pictured them stuffed inside bottles, corked and floating in a virtual sea….Maybe we’re all just castaways, tossing out our ideas and thoughts in hopes that someone will get our message. Maybe everyone is scribbling, cramming, corking their messages and tossing them into the worldwide web…and no one is reading them.”
But I turned a corner in that post.
Or maybe people are reading them…maybe there are twice as many readers as bloggers, and they really are making an impact. If so, it’s a fascinating phenomenon. It’s surely changing us in significant ways: language and vocabulary, the concept of publishing and readership, communication, transfer and cross-fertilization of ideas. All of that is evolving into something new. Highly intelligent people who have never published a book or magazine article are sharing their insights. Average Joes and Josephines with profound life stories can encourage the world.
And since writing those words, I’ve seen numerous instances where heavily trafficked bloggers are more highly valued than some published authors. I’ve read powerful and profound life stories. I’ve gained from countless insights. I suspect we’ll see more and more new authors “discovered” because they blogged. Blogs are being read.
More metaphors came to mind:
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Are our posts like notices tacked on the community bulletin board?
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Are they like folded notes being read and passed around in high school biology class?
I did a search and found this 2007 post wherein the blogger asked for blogging metaphors in the comments. Many of her bloggers are writing for their businesses, not so much for personal reasons. Still, I enjoyed poking around to read their comparisons.
Some of the suggestions were (you can see them yourself in her comments–people wrote up their own metaphors and linked to her post) that blogging is like a conga line, a hug, a large city with hundreds of small neighborhoods, a city market, opera, baking a cake, a box of chocolates, a tapestry, fishing, and so on.
But I think one great way to start thinking about blogging metaphors is to pose this question (it’s what prompted the “city market” metaphor):
How do you explain blogging to your mom?
I’m pleased to say that my own mom is a regular reader, so she already understands blogging. But I still meet plenty of people who have no idea what blogging is. It’s handy to have a few metaphors on hand, to help them get an idea of what it is and why I bother investing in it.
Here are a few explanations I’ve tried out with these blog-ignorant friends:
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“When I’m reading other blogs, I feel kind of like I do when I spend an afternoon flipping through nonfiction books and magazines at the library, stopping to read a few paragraphs, then continuing to browse. I laugh. I learn something new. I see a reference to another book or author. It’s entertaining and informative and thought-provoking.”
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“My own blog gives me a place not to just store but also to share all the little questions and curious ideas that pop into my head throughout the day. Sometimes they’re insightful; sometimes trite. Somehow both the profound and the trivial are equally acceptable on the blogosphere, and I get to see what others think about them, as well.”
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“The blog is like a big party, where people mingle and move from one conversation to the next. In one room, there’s a gathering of folks by the fireplace in a lively discussion about philosophy or theology. In the sitting room, where lace curtains are gracefully framing the bay window, several women are discussing homemaking at length, eagerly swapping style and organization ideas. Out in the kitchen, a group of people are tasting recipes and discussing everything from crockpot oatmeal to high-end hors d’oeuvres. On the porch, people are kicking back and telling story after story about anything that comes to mind. And people are free to hang out in the kitchen indefinitely before excusing themselves to meander into another room and enter an entirely different conversation–both in topic and tone. It’s refreshing to realize that I have something in common with (or can learn something from) so many different people.”
All this talk of blogging and metaphors, I’d like to do the same as Liz and Successful Blog and propose an impromptu carnival/meme/writing exercise…whatever you want to call it.
It’s simple:
What’s your blogging metaphor?
Or,
How would you describe blogging to your mom?
If you write up a post, come back here and use Mr. Linky
Instructions for the WordPress Mr. Linky (which is different than the ones you’ll see on WFMW and other Typepad or Blogspot blogs):
1. Write your post. Type up your Blogging metaphor.
2. Come back to this post and click on Mr. Linky. A window will pop up.
3. Type in your name (or blog name) and if you like, you can include a short “teaser” for your idea in parenthesis. Something like this:
Ann K (like browsing the library)
3. Paste in your url. Below the spot for your name, there’s another for the url of your own post. Copy the url for your Blogging metaphor and paste it in (including the http:// part of it).
4. Press Enter. That’s it! It should be saved by Mr. Linky for others to come visit.
To see what others have posted, click on Mr. Linky and pay a visit to the bloggers who have joined in!
Or…just put it in the comments.
Over a year ago, I posted a brief explanation (after forcing readers to suffer through the details of the Valentine’s Day storm that snowed us in), but I’ve had so many conversations since then about the profound culinary pleasure of crockpot steelcut oatmeal that I felt like posting a more involved and detailed set of instructions.
I’ve tried to explain to friends and family how simple it is to cook steel cut oatmeal in a crockpot overnight, but evidently it’s hard for some people to visualize. So with the magic of digital photography, I have attempted to capture, step-by-step, the simplicity of this delicious breakfast option.
With only a few seconds of preparation the night before, you can awaken to steamy, creamy, perfectly prepared steelcut oatmeal. It’s like you’re suddenly transported to a cozy bed-and-breakfast where the hostess bustled around in the kitchen early in the morning in order to serve you this healthy breakfast treat at the moment you’re ready.
Steel cut oats are chewy and delicious, but they take a long time to cook on the stovetop–30 minutes! Instead of preparing them first thing in the morning, this overnight method basically turns your crockpot into a double-boiler; or, to sound like a more frou-frou B&B hostess, a bain-marie.
And that, my friends, is the the beauty of this method: by using your crock as a double-boiler, the oats don’t get all crusty and burnt on the sides of the crockpot, as they do when you cook the oats in the crock itself. Put the oats in their own bowl, and there’s no waste, no lost oats. No soaking and scrubbing afterwards.
Read on…
You can buy the well-known and somewhat high-priced McCann’s Irish brand, or you can buy a cheaper version. This is what we buy at Trader Joe’s:
My goodness. How blurry. So much for digital magic. I’ve got to take a photography class or something.
Okay, the label reads: ”Country Choice Organic Irish Style Oats: Steel Cut.” Be careful not to buy the quick-cooking kind.
Stick with the recommended measurements–the back of my can says 4 cups of water to 1 cup of oats will result in 4 servings [Updated: I have since used less liquid for a less creamy oatmeal; experiment to achieve the consistency you prefer--you could even substitute some milk for the water].
Find a bowl that:
1) Holds four cups of liquid
2) Fits inside your crockpot with the lid on.
3) Is oven-safe (this is not necessary, but may reduce the possibility of the bowl cracking–I’ve never had this happen, but people have expressed some concern)
When I first tried this, I used an older crockpot and was able to fit a fairly small, round, oven-safe white Pyrex bowl inside–the kind you might use to serve a side dish at dinner.
This new wider, deeper crockpot has allowed for a bigger and different-shaped inner bowl for the oats, and I found a pretty green-and-yellow one that works well.
By the way, it’s not a big deal, but the exterior of your oats bowl, because it will be sitting in water, might get a little white ring around it from the water evaporating, especially if you have hard water. It’s always come off in the dishwasher for me, but I wanted to mention it, so that you have no surprises.
Measure out one cup of oats. Pour that into the inner bowl. Add the four cups of water. Stir. Add a dash of salt, if you like (it’s not at all necessary).
Fill the crock with water to a little more than halfway. Set the inner bowl in the crock and see how high the water rises with the displacement. Add water in the crock if necessary–I usually try to match it so that the water reaches about the same height on the outside of the oats bowl as the cooking water inside, but I don’t think it matters that much.
Place the lid on your crockpot.
Set on low.
Go to bed.
When you awaken the next morning, your oats should have cooked to perfection overnight in the steamy bath.
Do you see how hard I’ve been working this new crockpot? The handle broke off. So much of my life is about brokenness…often literally.
I took this picture to try to show the water, because some people really can’t picture the whole double-boiler concept. But here it is, friends–the crockpot as bain-marie.
I snapped the above picture after The Belgian Wonder had already scooped out his morning serving.
You can add all your favorite goodies the night before and let them cook along with your oats–raisins, nuts, etc.–but the kids like it plain. So we add our goodies as we serve it up.
I keep a bag of frozen blueberries on hand, thawing a few of them in the microwave as needed, so that they don’t cool my oats down too much. One morning, as I pulled them out of the microwave, they made pretty, artsy swirls on the side of the bowl. So I tried to snap a little picture of them:
It doesn’t do them justice. They were so pretty, I almost hated to add the oats.
Almost.
But those oats are so good, I did it anyway. Blueberries and chewy, steelcut oats in the morning?
Maybe I should open a B&B?
Or maybe, now that you see how easy this is, you can.
Serve with some fresh fruit, or a soft-boiled egg, whole wheat toast, or, if you just want to wow your guests, set out a Trader Joe’s chocolate croissant to rise overnight and bake while you’re in the shower.
It’ll negate all the health benefits of the oatmeal, but believe me, your B&B guests will never want to leave!
For more great ideas, check out Rocks In My Dryer’s WFMW posts.
For more odd and quirky ideas, check out my personal collection of Works For Me Wednesday posts first, and then return to the normal folk at Rocks.
“I’m bored,” a child whines. Oh, no! Quick, pull out the paints or Playdough–heaven forbid the child actually sits with nothing to do.
In our entertainment-obsessed society, we almost panic at the thought of having nothing to do, at being bored. The world seems to want to fill every spare moment with productivity or fun.
But is boredom such a bad thing? Could boredom actually be…good?
This article in the Boston Globe about boredom explored the strength–even the joy–of boredom.
It quoted a professor of psychology and women’s studies at the College of Staten Island:
“Our society is perpetually anxious, and a way to alleviate the anxiety is to delve into something that’s very within our control, pleasurable, and fun…It feels like it has all the makings of addiction.”
I value creativity, so this quote stood out to me:
As Ralley studied boredom, it came to make a kind of sense: If people are slogging away at an activity with little reward, they get annoyed and find themselves feeling bored. If something more engaging comes along, they move on. If nothing does, they may be motivated enough to think of something new themselves. The most creative people, he said, are known to have the greatest toleration for long periods of uncertainty and boredom.
And this, too:
To be bored is to stop reacting to the external world, and to explore the internal one. It is in these times of reflection that people often discover something new, whether it is an epiphany about a relationship or a new theory about the way the universe works. Granted, many people emerge from boredom feeling that they have accomplished nothing. But is accomplishment really the point of life? There is a strong argument that boredom — so often parodied as a glassy-eyed drooling state of nothingness — is an essential human emotion that underlies art, literature, philosophy, science, and even love.
My friend S. and I have talked about the fact that our kids’ generation doesn’t seem to allow much time to just sit and think. They don’t have time to create. To solve problems. To wonder about the deeper issues of life.
That’s because they’re occupied with nonstop activities:
They’re online, on the phone, text messaging, watching movies, watching TV, playing games. I remember long car rides when I would just stare out the window and think. When today’s kids are on long car trips, they’re often playing handheld games or watching DVDs.
When is today’s generation of kids able to sort through the deeper questions of life, to develop a personal philosophy? Both S. and I grew up in settings that allowed for many hours of “down time” and alone time when we could think, uninterrupted, for hours. We’re not necessarily intellectual or philosophical giants, but we can sit down and talk about more than ”Dancing with the Stars”…although, I do watch that. Did you see Marlee Matlin?? Wait, where was I? Oh, I know. I was just wondering what will happen to our kids if they don’t get some of that “down” time–that “bored” time–to think?
“When we’re writing deeply, writing thoughtfully, we are often trying to communicate with ourselves and trying to communicate what ultimately can’t be communicated — the greatest mysteries of the world: what is truth; what is beauty; what is being?” said Eric G. Wilson, an English professor at Wake Forest University and author of the new book, Against Happiness.
To write like that, one must think about it. Ponder it in the quieter moments of a day.
Where are those moments?
Toward the end of the article:
Paradoxically, as cures for boredom have proliferated, people do not seem to feel less bored; they simply flee it with more energy, flitting from one activity to the next. Ralley has noticed a kind of placid look among his students over the past few years, a “laptop culture” that he finds perplexing. They have more channels to be social; there are always things to do. And yet people seem oddly numb. They are not quite bored, but not really interested either.
That means steeping in uninterrupted boredom may be the first step toward feeling connected. It “may take a little bit of tolerance of an initial feeling of boredom, to discover a comfort level with not being linked in and engaged and stimulated every second,” said Jerome C. Wakefield, a professor of social work at New York University and co-author of “The Loss of Sadness.” “There’s a level of knowing yourself, of coming back to baseline, and knowing who you truly are.”
Today’s Writer’s Almanac quoted Flannery O’Connor. Her words reminded me of this article, of being bored, of thinking and creating:
“The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.”
Boredom isn’t always disengagement, nor is it always unproductive–au contraire! Sometimes it leads to a new thought, an epiphany; a creative idea that requires our full attention.
Sometimes staring leads to story.
Next time your child looks up with a pitiful look and sighs, “I’m booorrrred,” just smile.
“Good,” you might say. “We need more boredom in this world.”
And then just wait. Don’t fill the time.
See what happens.
Happy Easter Monday to you!
And welcome to home base for Monday FunDay, a carnival dedicated to swapping simple, amusing–maybe even silly–everyday ways you enjoy good, clean fun.
Monday FunDay
To participate in Monday FunDay, just post a story, idea, or explanation at your blog of how you and/or your family has livened up Mondays (or any day).
Then link up via Mr. Linky below (if you don’t have a blog, simply explain your idea in the comments) and we’ll collect all the ideas in one place. Again, please remember: ideas must be squeaky-clean, family-friendly fun.
Ann’s Family Friendly Monday Fun:
Leading up to Easter Sunday, we use a set of plastic Easter eggs put out by Focus on the Family called “Resurrection Eggs.” Each egg contains a simple symbol representing one of the events leading up to the Resurrection.
For example, the first one has a little metal donkey in it, to symbolize the Triumphal Entry. There’s a cup for the Last Supper, a die for when they divided up Jesus’ clothes, and so on until you open an egg with a little piece of linen, another with a stone, and finally an empty egg.
Two years ago, the kids were taking turns opening the eggs and reading the little devotional with related Bible verses. Our youngest, The Boy, couldn’t read yet, so he could only open the eggs. An argument broke out over who would open the next-to-last and final eggs. The next-to-last was the stone, which was not only weighty when held, but also produced a satisfying thumpity-thump sound when shaken. The last one, being so lightweight and void of thumps when shaken, was not an option for our youngest. He threw a minor fit, and in the name of peace and Christian love, also prompted by some “looks” from Mom and Dad, the other person gave in.
The Boy would open the egg with the stone, and then she would open the last egg, the empty egg.
We read about the stone, and he opened it happily, turning the stone over and over in his hand.
Then it was time. We opened the final egg.
“Awwww, it’s empty!” the youngest complained. What a let-down. All the others had a little toy inside. He made a face and shook his head.
“That’s right,” we said, “it’s empty. Just like the tomb!”
“What?”
Everyone jumped in and exclaimed things like, “The egg is empty because the tomb was empty.”
“The tomb was empty because Jesus wasn’t there.”
“He wasn’t there because He’s risen! He’s not dead; He’s alive!”
His eyes grew wide as saucers and he gasped. Then he smiled and squealed, hopped off his chair and ran three times around the circular pattern through the kitchen, dining room and living room. As he ran, he shouted, “He’s alive, He’s alive, He’s aliiiiiiive!”
We were so surprised, we actually laughed–not at him, but at how wonderful to see someone respond with such childlike wonder and amazement to the Good News. We had just read about Mary, running to tell the disciples the good news, and then here was this spontaneous and related response from our own four-year-old.
Jesus said we had to become as little children in order to enter the kingdom of heaven. Seeing The Boy run with breathless excitement at the thought of Jesus being alive left the rest of us laughing and shaking our heads.
This year was more subdued. Two years wiser, The Boy knew that the last egg would be empty; that the tomb was empty and our Savior is alive. When I said, “He is risen,” The Boy didn’t get up and run, but he did laugh and say, ”He’s risen! He’s alive!”
That’s a really long story to lead up to my Monday FunDay idea. Thank you for humoring me.
We decided there were some critical scenes or moments left out of the Resurrection Eggs.
With gratitude to Playmobil for making very small, detailed items–small enough to fit inside an Easter egg–we have expanded the elements so that we can open more eggs.
More eggs = more fun!
What’s more, the fun doesn’t end on Easter morning!
It is the climax of the story, so we aren’t attempting to “top” Easter morning and the empty egg–I mean, tomb–but we thought it might be interesting to carry it on through to the Ascension.
For what it’s worth, here’s what we added to the collection:
- The pre-fab kit came with a metal donkey for the Triumphal Entry.
- We added a little brown table, for the cleansing of the temple.
- We added a teeny, tiny little coin and some bars of gold to represent the widow’s mite and the rich people’s offerings.
- We found a pretty little pitcher from the Playmobil collection to represent the jar that held the perfume with which Jesus was anointed. Matthew recorded the Lord saying that wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her. He made it pretty clear, so we thought we’d best add her.
- The pre-fab kit came with three metal coins to represent the 30 pieces of silver Judas took to betray Jesus.
- The kit came with a cup for the Last Supper.
- We added a little slice of Playmobil bread.
- We added a sandal for the washing of the disciples’ feet. For next year, I think I’ll try to find a tiny piece of terry cloth to look kind of like a towel.
- The kit came with praying hands for Gethsemane.
- We added a sword for when Peter cut off Malchus’ ear.
- The kit came with a leather rope, to represent the flogging.
- It came with a metal crown of thorns.
- It also came with a metal cross made out of nails.
- It came with one die to represent casting lots for Jesus’ clothes.
- For next year, we want to add the sign, “JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.”
- We added a cloth to be the curtain of the temple that was torn in two.
- EDITED: The kit came with a spear, for when Jesus’ side was pierced.
- The kit came with white cloth, to be the linen Jesus’ body was wrapped in.
- It came with the stone.
- And the empty egg.
- We’re adding a door–we think we can use either a LEGO door or a Playmobil door–for when Jesus’ appeared to the disciples, when they were afraid and hiding behind locked doors.
- A fish, for the miraculous catch as well as the fish that the resurrected but not yet ascended Jesus was cooking on coals on the beach.
- The girls suggested a cotton ball to represent the cloud into which Jesus disappeared when he ascended.
Clearly, we need two egg containers!
Anyway, that’s how we’ll be having fun this Monday–by extending the Easter story.
How about you?
Instructions for the WordPress Mr. Linky (which is different than the ones you’ll see on WFMW and other Typepad or Blogspot blogs):
1. Write your post. Type up your Monday FunDay edition and post it at your blog.
2. Come back to this post and click on Mr. Linky. A window will pop up.
3. Type in your name (or blog name) and if you like, you can include a short “teaser” for your idea in parenthesis. Something like this:
Ann K (adding post-Resurrection eggs)
3. Paste in your url. Below the spot for your name, there’s another for the url of your own post. Copy the url for your own Monday FunDay and paste it in (including the http:// part of it).
4. Press Enter. That’s it! It should be saved by Mr. Linky.
To see what others have posted, click on Mr. Linky and pay a visit to the fun bloggers who have joined in!
It’s fun to have fun, but you have to know how!
[Check out previous Monday FunDays]
In the beginning, God created trees.
It wasn’t the first or only thing He created, of course, but He spoke vegetation into existence by commanding the land to produce it. And there came the trees bearing fruit with seed in them according to their kinds. God saw that it was good, and then He closed out the third day. Done.
And to this day, we can think about trees, bearing seed according to their kinds: shagbark hickory, sassafras, dogwood and redbud. Apple, pear and persimmon trees; walnut, oaks, and ash. White pine, blue spruce, buckeye and willow. Beyond the woods of Indiana, there are palms and redwoods, orange and grapefruit trees; fig, olive, jacaranda and eucalyptus trees.
It’s amazing to ponder the miracle of a tree. They begin so small: an acorn, pine cone, sweetgum ball, a whirlygig from a maple tree. From seed, to sprig, to a shoot with an ever-widening root system, it branches out, and a tender young tree stakes its claim in the soil beneath and the sky above, pushing toward the heavens.
While it grows and changes, it faces seasons. With seasons, comes more change: from dormant winter to sap-rising spring, when buds, burgeoning, draw light from the sun to deepen through summer. Fall comes, and trees explode in vivid color before dropping their leaves to return to quiet, solemn, exposed outlines against the gray skies of winter.
A Creator worked seasonal transformation into the bigger change of seed to tree. Change is good, He might say. Without it, there could be no seed, no future trees, no possibility for growth.
Look at a tree if you can; study it, ponder it, sit under it, climb it, rub your hands over it. Then think of the tree and the change, the strength it develops as it lives through another season, another year, earning another ring deep within.
Jesus was present at Creation, His voice somehow joining with the Father and Spirit, speaking everything into existence.
What, then, was it like for Creator-Jesus to come to earth and be immediately placed in a manger, probably rough-hewn from logs cut from trees He Himself first sculpted? What was it like for Creator-Jesus to later become Carpenter Jesus?
As He grew, Jesus would have been surrounded by wood shavings and sawdust, as tables, chairs, chests and cradles were constructed from bark-covered logs stripped by His earthly father, and later, by Jesus Himself.
He would have learned what wood worked best for each piece, shaping it to fit His purpose: He may have carved designs into wooden chalices, whittled a knob for a drawer, and chiseled joints to form a solid bed that would bless some newlyweds. He would have known the earthy smell of freshly sawn wood and recognized a tree from the scent of its discarded chips and scraps flaring up in a fire warming His dinner.
Imagine Him walking the rugged landscape of the Holy Land, made Holy by His presence there, pausing to lean against a fig tree, or reaching to brush his fingertips against an olive branch, privately enjoying the familiar feel of wood, known so well to His rough hands. Jesus even sought the cool silence of trees in the darkness of Gethsemane, as He agonized over the Plan.
How did it feel, hours later, to be hauling His cross, the wood of a tree cut to destroy? The Creator, crushed under the weight of a tree. He felt it against His body, no chance or thought to run His hands over it with the pleasing realization that He had spoken it into existence. Nor would He have imagined it stripped of bark and smoothed into a chair leg or a spinning wheel. His mind was focused on other things, on a transformation He alone could understand…a transformation He alone could bring about.
As the Creator-Carpenter hung, nailed to a tree, splintered wood was the last thing He felt as He let the greatest transformation of all begin.
From that point on, true change, true transformation for each of us was possible. The Creator-Carpenter, as Christ…on a cross.
Let us think of that, as we ponder a tree.
©2002 Ann Kroeker
Yesterday we attended a Maundy Thursday Seder meal at our church.
The children remarked at the confusion–Monday? But it’s Thursday? I pointed out that it’s a near-homonym. Then it became a joke–Maundy? But it’s Thursday! Ha-ha-ha.
Yes, well, anyway, I tried to explain the basics of a Passover meal to my Gentile/Protestant kiddoes. We haven’t observed any kind of Christian-ized Seder meal as a family in our home, nor have we been invited to a Jewish family’s home for a traditional Passover meal. Plus, we’ve been traveling the last couple of years around Easter time and missed any kind of community celebration at a church.
This year, however, we’re in town. So we attended the one our church put together. It was an abbreviated version. Simple. Spare.
I kept thinking back to the one I attended years ago that was led by a man named Steve who grew up Jewish. He wove his own story and memories into the evening, making it very personal.
Evidently there are many subtle variations to some of the elements of a Seder. Steve told us that as the ten plagues were recited, each person was to dip his or her pinky into the wine glass, one dip per plague. He waited to see how many of us naturally licked our pinky and then grinned, “Did you put pinky to your mouth? You just took in all ten plagues!” He recalled how his family used to play that joke on guests.
Before Steve became a Christian, a friend of his had been talking openly with him about Christ. One year, Steve invited this friend over to share the Passover meal with him and his family. This friend sat through the meal astonished at the symbolism that flows throughout the ceremony–three matzahs, the middle one pulled out and broken, half of it wrapped in a cloth and hidden away to be found later by children. These details seem so clear to a believer in Jesus Christ. Father. Son. Holy Spirit. Son is the middle One of the Trinity, broken for us; His body wrapped in a cloth and hidden away to be found later–or rather, not found–by “children.”
The story from Exodus of the blood of the Passover lamb being applied to the doorposts is the symbol on which the entire event hinges.
Because of the blood of the lamb, the people of Israel were passed over by the angel of death. They were spared, not by how good they were or how righteous…only because of God’s plan and provision. Only because of the shedding of innocent blood.
Steve pointed to a hastily drawn doorpost that looked something like this (forgive my own haste and lack of artistic ability–the haste kind of goes along with the first hurried Passover meal, but I have no excuses for the childlish drawings):
He reminded us about how the Israelites were to sacrifice a lamb, take some of the blood and put it on the sides and tops of the doorframes of the house where they ate the lambs. He put up a drawing that looked like this:
[EDITED: I forgot that there should be blood at the bottom of the doorframe, too, that would have dripped down from the top--and that would correspond to the blood from Jesus' pierced feet.]
The places on the doorframe, he said, correlate to the blood of the Lamb as He was nailed to the cross.
And then he pulled over his drawing a clear overlay of a cross so that it looked something like this:
I was so moved by this realization–this connection in Scripture and history and through Judaism to Christianity to me today, that I was stirred to tears that night.
So simple. So clear. So powerful.
And so tonight, Good Friday, I will join again with whoever shows up for that service, to ponder the sacrifice of Jesus, the Christ, the Lamb of God, whose blood was shed for the forgiveness of sins.
John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29)
The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!
By His stripes we are healed.
What was horrible suffering for Him on that Friday thousands of years ago, brought total and ultimate good for us.
It’s a strange way to save the world…but it is good. Very good.
My tween-aged daughters appreciated this outside, objective source of advice for determining the modesty of an outfit from The Secret Keeper website:
“Truth or Bare,” a set of modesty “tests.”
Obviously, a reader’s personal standards might be much more or much less conservative than this, but it’s a starting point to discuss modesty standards, and why they matter. Ultimately, they need to flow from a personal faith in Jesus Christ and a love for Him and desire to honor Him in every single way…as a temple of the Holy Spirit, how does that affect the way we dress? These are important questions to raise with young and developing girls who are thinking a lot about style and boys.
Just to give you an idea of what the Truth or Bare tests are like, the first one is “Raise and Praise.” To see if too much belly shows, raise your hands and see how high your shirt rides up. “Bellies are very intoxicating,” the text says, “and we need to save that for our husbands.”
The suggested solution? Layers. It suggests getting a ribbed tank top or tank top from the men’s department to wear underneath.
It goes through several other tests to test for whether or not cleavage (or for some tweens–future cleavage) is peeking out, undies showing, etc.
It’s set up for the girls to go through themselves, with photos of real girls in that tween age-range, happily giving the test a try.
With swimsuit season upon us, the girls and I have been talking a lot about modesty issues and principles on which to base our decisions. This has been an excellent tool that’s worked for us and opened up lines of communication.
I hope it helps launch healthy discussions in other households, as well.
** UPDATED: These “tests” can be implemented when girls are very young, so that even little girls get used to thinking about coverage. They’re good for grownup women to consider, as well. I pulled on a pair of brown slacks this weekend, bent over and looked in the mirror. Sadly, they failed the pantyline test…I either have to lose a little weight or donate them to Goodwill… **
For more WFMW ideas, return to Rocks In My Dryer, or take a moment to peruse my previous posts via my Works For Me Wednesday category.
The kids knew that we were planning on a tea party in the afternoon, so as I worked on something else, two of them set the table with a blue cloth and prepared the treats. They artistically arranged Girl Scout cookies, Trader Joe’s Oreo-style cookies, truffles, and Andes mints on plates and pulled silk flowers out of the storage cabinet for a centerpiece.
The small white pot with flowers was filled with milk for the younger kids (we ran out of apple juice, which is, in our opinion, the ideal tea-substitute). For the one young tea-drinker in the family and me, they brewed a pot of PG Tips, currently my favorite black tea (a British import available at our Kroger grocery store–a little pricey, but imo, it’s worth it).
Over the years, my mom has located these gorgeous Royal Albert teacups in the birthday months of the kids:
October’s flower is cosmos.
Boy, is that out of focus. Well, December is decorated with holly and a Christmas rose.
April’s flower: sweet peas. And the owner of the April cup is a sweet pea.
We had a lovely tea, complete with British accents, slow sipping, and gentle reminders not to talk when one is crunching a Thin Mint. We also discovered that the Trader Joe’s version of an Oreo cookie, along with a truffle or two, turns one’s teeth black like soot.
A lovely effect for a tea party.
A bit like the Addams family, perhaps?
Too bad I didn’t get a picture.
(Then again, maybe it’s just as well.)
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