Welcome home, Sonic!

So, yeah.  I blogged publicly that I wouldn’t get a beagle.

Um… <ahem>   Oops!

“Sonic” is the latest addition to our family.  He’s an 8-year-old, overweight, lazy, very lovable beagle.  And my daughter and I just love him.  The son is out with boy scouts today…will meet him tomorrow when we pick him up.  That should be a surprise!  Peace, all! – Karla

Dog Advice?

We had a great visit with my mother-in-law and her 3 generation of female descendants this weekend.  And another female tagged along for the ride:  an elderly rescue chiuhuaua. (sp?)  The visit was a lot of fun, but spurred fresh sadness in my almost-8-year-old daughter, missing our own doggie who died almost two years ago.

Hubby and I have been thinking it might be time to get another dog anyway.  This pushed that pondering process further to the front of my wonders.

Do you have strong opinions, advice about a family dog?  We did not do the greatest job of getting Betsy out for frequent walks.  She was a Springer Spaniel mix and probably would have liked them a great deal.  She was a VERY happy dog, being mistaken for a puppy until nearly her last few years.  I remember he tail wag would involve her entire back hip section, in joy to see me come home from work.  I was the “alpha dog” in the family, despite my husband’s more ongoing continuous presence, Betsy seemed to prefer me.  Oh, that expression/prayer, “God let me be half the man my dog believes me to be” – that was sure the truth with me and Betsy!!!

We got Betsy at a no-kill animal shelter as a puppy.  I want to adopt from a shelter again, but I’m not determined to get a puppy this time.  I’m more interested in taking my time to get the right breed (i.e. adult size is hard to predict in mixed breed puppies sometimes!)  Well, anyway, let me spell out some of our family preferences, and see if you can give me your two cents worth?

• Want to adopt from a shelter.  I don’t care if adult or puppy.  Kids would prefer puppy.  Kids will not be part of selection process til some serious (practical-minded) narrowing down by me.  Probably will leave hubby out of process for same reason!
• Would prefer low-shedding dog.
• Would prefer dog with low exercise requirements, but big enough and energetic enough for games of fetch in our reasonably sized city back yard.  We didn’t do the greatest job of walking Betsy as regularly as she would have enjoyed, but boy did that dog love to play fetch, especially with a fleece frisbee or old ratty tennis ball!
• Would be unhappy with a yappy dog.  NO BEAGLES!!!!!!!!  I don’t know what it is about our family attracting beagles for neighbors…  Let me say it again, no beagles.  Period.
• We enjoy cuddling a lap dog, or barring that due to size, hugging and petting a medium sized dog.  Betsy was a medium sized dog, who still enjoyed getting up in our laps.  She shed a LOT though.  Lap dogs that shed little would be preferable – and my definition of a lap dog is pretty liberal…just needs to enjoy being cuddled, and (mostly!) fit in a lap.  A little overlap is okay…  <smile>
• Daughter would prefer a “cute” dog, but since her participation in the selection process will be limited to the end of the process, my preferences above would override cuteness.  And low-maintenance grooming, please!  Poodles or those bichon frise?  Not so much, even though they’re otherwise quite cute.  Some kind of low-shedding short hair breed that will be a lover – that’s the family dog of my dreams!

Thanks for your input!

Belated Ash Wednesday Ponderings/Confessions

Hey there! I have Episcopal readers, and I have some evangelical readers I think. If you’ve been with me a while, you may be aware that I was raised Roman Catholic. We Catholics “do Lent.” Episcopalians also “do Lent” though not quite to the same legalistic degree as the Lenten observances I was encouraged to as a child. But I wouldn’t abandon a Lenten season, and I see more Protestants are observing Lenten piety than ever.

Just now I made a page with the entire pre-Eucharist Ash Wednesday liturgy, as it occurs in an Episcopal church. You can find it here on my blog (and on the top margin, too!), with links to my original source material there. And I found a phrase of the penitential rite that was fitting for me, and my spiritual pathway of the moment. It is simply this:

…We confess to you, Lord.

Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those
more fortunate than ourselves,
We confess to you, Lord.

I appreciate the recognition and calling-out to our attention from our prayer book regarding this particular piccadillo as “sin” worthy of confessing, reflecting on, and repenting for. Okay, sure, envy of others is pretty obvious. One of those seven deadly ones, undoubtedly. But what of that first part: anger at our own frustration. How many “good” people work themselves into a lather over not being good enough, or competent enough, or perfect enough to be “worthy” to stand at their mere job or family position, let alone stand before the throne of (our merciful, forgiving, loving) God? (do I detect a little involuntary confessional head-nodding from my side of the computer keyboard???) And so often, these people (“people” equals me, too, of course; my bad!) believe this working of themselves into the lather to be evidence of their goodness and even a sort of repentant, sorrowful piety before an inflexible God. And yet, it’s just another twisted form of pride, isn’t it? Frustration that I am not perfect. <faux gasp!>

I missed Ash Wednesday services this year. I had a rough preceding week that made me part lazy, part exhausted, and part scatterbrained. Friday through Monday had me running from house to grandparents to hospital while my husband recuperated from an unexpected, slightly emergent heart procedure. (it is assumed to be a viral infection with greater than expected inflammation, and fluid accumulation…not likely to be an ongoing problem, but one that will require a few followup appointments with cardiology and hematology. Would welcome your prayers in that regard for a non-remarkable report after those appointments are complete!) Then Tuesday I had one of the worst days at work I’ve had in a long time. The new system contributed to my stress level. Some demanding patients, some legitimately so due to health status and/or disability, some unkindly so with no outwardly apparent explanation (but who knows what really goes on in their inner lives of course. <sigh>), added to my stress level. I was too busy to eat lunch, too busy to drink a sufficient quantity to even desire to use the restroom. Had to tidy up a few unfinished tasks after closing, and was late to a family function as a result. Just really didn’t feel like going to church on my much-needed day off on Wednesday.

Now I regret it though. I miss that “invitation, in the name of the Church, to an observance of a Holy Lent.” It’s just not the same in solitude as it is to be gathered in community as the body of Christ. But my missing it was the prompt for my reading over the liturgy here at home, sort of after the fact. It’s a good one. A rich and useful prayer, that is, this liturgy. No Ash Wednesday is complete without a prayerful meditation over Psalm 51 in my opinion. I recommend it and the rest of the Book of Common Prayer’s Ash Wednesday liturgy for your use or consideration.

But yeah, that whole frustration with self is a biggie for me at many times, and particularly right now with this new computer system at work. Must be patient with self. Must relax. Not easy.

Is there a part of these prayers that particularly speaks to you at your place in the faith journey/struggle as you’re experiencing it right now? Leave a comment, I’d love to hear from you!

I enjoy taking some time to wrestle prayerfully/thoughtfully with the spiritual and incarnational realities of our God during the season of Lent. Earthy, fleshy life and ministry with attendant joys and suffering. Spiritual, supernatural results and ripples of that ministry and resurrection life. Hmmm…. Much to pray over and ponder, no?

May you be blessed on your journey, whereever it leads you.

To the (very!) simple pleasures in life…

Karla gets book, “Getting Things Done” from the library.

Karla enjoys it. Picks up the (hindsightedly obvious!) organizational tip to use a tickler file at home. More of a duh moment, given that she has used one indispensably at work for YEARS, without putting together the cute name, or its immense applicability to home/personal life.

Karla bites the bait of the author’s advice to use a labelmaker.  A gimmick that should remove psychological barriers to necessary filing with its neat, typeset labels.  “I can’t explain it, but people invariably report that it works” the author relates from his past advice-giving experiences.  Fun perhaps, he muses?  Hmm.  <insert friendly, mild eye-brow raising skepticism>  All the same…

Karla orders said gadget from Staples….    …it arrives…

*****

Karla has (rather sophomoric!) fun labeling her family instead of IN ADDITION TO her manila folders.

Who knew a labeler could be such fun? Heart borders for the seven-year-old girl. More masculine borders for the ten-year-old boy. “Awesome Dad of the World” label for the hubby…

Yup. Having fun. Stay tuned & see if Karla actually derives home-organizational benefit from the gimmick of typeset labels. (hope springs eternal….)

Wii Outdoor Challenge Active Life

Just returned from our becoming annual event of Christmas in January with the stepson and family.  They got my kids the Wii game, “Outdoor Challenge” using the new Active Life Mat controller.  You jog, jump, row, & more -  you can play alone, compete with a friend, cooperate with a friend…

…you can play your children’s game and have the re-realization of what an out-of-shape couch spud you truly are!  Experiencing painful calves today after some rousing Outdoor Challenge games played yesterday…

(I gotta say though, it was genuinely fun!  No lie.)

Thinking this could become a (fun?) workout for me, the exercise-allergic?  I’ll keep you informed as I rack up my APs (Active Points)

Or not…if you’ve been with me any length of time you’ll well know not to hold your breath on THAT arena, don’t you?  (ha ha ha!!!)

(two of my personal faves are Mole Whacker and Jump Rope <smile>)

Snow DAY!

My city is (usually) well-known for its reticence to call school.

Today, I woke up early, in case I’d have to dig out.  But alas, the beautiful sound of no school called out to me.  There’d been a company email to listen to a certain radio station in case my employer closed.

I waited expectantly.  My clinic also doesn’t close often, but surely I thought, if the school closed, shucks, the whole city will close down, much like southern states that don’t have plows and budgets for salt.  It’s like a signal for the town to close down, right?

Wrong.  I guess the good news in it is that I was up early enough to drive nice and slowly…a husband who went out to snowblow…to live in a time when powerful snowblowers even EXIST…a road shared with drivers who were uncharacteristically considerate and careful.  Yay!

And then, surprise of surprises, our clinic closed early!  I got out at 3pm instead of 5:30.

And the kids and I played in the snow, while the wonderful hub finished snowblowing for me again.  What a nice guy.

And oddly enough, it was a pain, but I didn’t think it quite qualified for the storm of the century, from the snow volume or slippery roads standpoint.  Oh well.  Not one thing wrong with getting out of work early and playing outside with the little tykers.  Yippee.

Prayer with the Boy

Got an opportunity – and some work to do.

Okay, so when kids graduate from the intermediate elementary Christian Formation program at my parish, our parish presents them with a personalized Book of Common Prayer.  (“BCP”; the corporate prayer book of the Episcopal church.)  We have the books engraved with their name in gold print on the cover of a red hard-cover edition.  And inside, as the Christian Formation Coordinator, I and our priest write a few words for each child.  I’ve been doing this for a number of years now, and I’ve taken great delight in finding a special encouragement, word, or Bible verse or BCP page that’s especially suited to each child.

This past May I had a new experience: writing in one of these books that would actually be returning to my own home!  I’d often wondered how much lap time these books get – now my own son would be the proud owner of one.

Writing in your own son’s book ought to be the easiest of all, right?  Wrong!  All that time spent lovingly on words for other people’s children – this one that would be signed “love, Mom” not merely, God bless you, put a little extra pressure on me.  So, interestingly enough, I didn’t have his book signed in time for the public presentation.  I told him I needed it back so I could write in it.

He didn’t especially care.  That has been his modus operandi all his life.  Neutral to antagonistic to church life.  Mostly neutral, though the folks who are kind enough to supply salami or cheddar cheese when their name comes up for coffee hour….well, let’s just say those folks have been Christ for my son, and are largely, along with his friends, what keep him coming back without too much complaint.

Eventually I signed the book, gave it to him while saying good night, and invited him to join me in praying from it.  (always looking for the teachable moment, and the tender mom-son moment of any kind!)  He accepted, and we agreed to do it every night.

Well, I’m sure there’s no great gasp of surprise that that didn’t last forever.  No matter.  I’ve always tried to handle evangelism in general with a light touch – taking to heart the words attributed to St. Francis – preach the gospel always, use words if necessary.  Meaning, however imperfect, a life lived is more important than the right words spoken.

Imagine my surprise tonight, months later, when he opens the BCP up to my signed bit, and is unclear on my cursive letters, taking an interesting twist on the meaning I’d intended!  He asked me before doing so though, when are we ever going to read the bible together, mom?

Frank Guilt Admission time:  I rarely read the bible in front of my children and rarer still with my children outside Sunday school.  I was puzzled.  I soon realized he was referring to his BCP, and his memories of the family prayer service we had used together as a bedtime prayer routine for a time.

Explaining things to children is a wonderful exercise in achieving clarity.  I his usual pre-teen bravado, he blew off any distinction between a BCP and a Bible. “Same difference.”  <heavy sigh>  Well, no, they’re not the same thing.  The BCP borrows from the Bible, but whole stories and books of the Bible are not in the BCP.  It’s a wonderful book of prayers that Episcopalians have put together to pray together, but it’s not in the same importance category as the Bible, that all Christians treasure.

A door cracked open to pray and read the bible with my 10-year-old son?  God grant me the discipline, patience and the undoubted to follow joy to do so faithfully!

Heavenly Father.  Thank you for entrusting my children to my care and love.  Help me to guide them to know you and love you more and more each day.  Draw out their special gifts and show them the ways and places to share them with others.  In Jesus name. Amen.

my poor baby!

You are not going to believe where and under what circumstances I find myself blogging at nearly 1am. (ok, ok, maybe that hour of the night is not all that unusual for me.)

I’m in my daughter’s darkened bedroom, illuminated by the glow of a Disney princess lamp, sleeping in a sleeping bag on her floor. I was upstairs happily fiddling away my time, when my son came running upstairs to tell me that his sister was puking.

Poor baby.

She’s in second grade and she had a fun playdate this evening. Tomorrow would have been her 6th tumbling class. FINALLY I was going to be able to make one. We started her in gymnastics on a weeknight that I had free and I was always able to take her. She decided she didn’t care for gymnastics and she’s rather enjoying the tumbling class…the foam pit, the trampolines – all her favorite stuff. Trouble is, I’d made plans for several Saturday mornings in a row – five to be exact – that precluded me from joining her for her tumbling class. Two were for non-negotiable work-related things. (a regularly, but not frequent weekend shift and a mandatory training for new computer software.) Two were for church things. (one for a class that I’ll admit, I just really enjoy; one because I was a voting delegate at our church convention.) and the fifth I no longer recall, but it wasn’t negotiable either. What a drag! And now the poor little darling has a stomach bug.

She was so sweet. I had to scramble to re-create reasonably waterproof bedding for her. I grabbed some of her old crib waterproof pads as the nicer mattress pad successfully protected her mattress, but was in no condition to sleep on again. Her pillow protector didn’t fare as well. I covered her slightly dampened pillow with a plastic garbage bag, then used binder clips to hold the fabric pillowcase closed tightly so there’d be no plastic bags ending up over her face. Meanwhile, Ｉput Daddy on the slightly less smelly and messy task of helping her to shower and get clean jammies on. She was nearly too sleepy to make it back downstairs to her bedroom, but she made it, falling immediately asleep when her head hit the pillow. All the while she’s worried about her bed if she pukes again. I assured her that I’d be here, and I’d wash it again if I have to. That’s what mommies do for their girls. Your job is to lie down, be comfy, and let me tuck you back in.

I get these twinges of guilt when I run off doing church stuff sometimes. Particularly when I actually am enjoying myself. But somehow, this adorable little girl keeps me up on her virtual pedestal of parental adoration. I hope she fondly recalls these moments of nurture, and liberal doses of fun and laughter too of course. I hope she knows I’m saddened that we’ll miss tumbling tomorrow. I dearly hope I have chosen her first often enough – and that I have provided a model of being a loving (often doting!) mom, while following the inner person and track that I believe God has crafted me to follow. Mom always, but not mom only. (God has crafted me to be one complicated (sometimes endearing, sometimes annoying!) creature.)

Sleep peacefully, my sweetie.

Wonderful words for a young woman…

…courtesy of Real Live Preacher.

http://www.reallivepreacher.com/node/379

A couple tastes?  (but click and read the whole original…it’s awesome)

Your heart now rests in the hands of those who might hurt you. That’s hard for me, but it could not be any other way because you would not leave your heart in my hands. If I must give up your heart, then listen to my words.

Stand up. Stand out. Be smart and strong. It may be some time before you find the one who can appreciate who you are. So be it. Settle for nothing less. Because if your heart must rest in the hands of another man, I want him to be a man strong enough to love a strong woman.

(this part actually reminds me of my own sweet 10-year-old son.)

You are a tender young woman, compassionate and kind. You believe in goodness and work for it. You care about the feelings of others. You are a loyal and faithful friend. You are brave enough to trust others, and others are not afraid to trust you.

Peace! – Karla

Historic Election!!!

I’ve got a laptop, so for the first time my full geekiness can be displayed that I am watching the news on network TV and blogging at the same time; and through the magic of blogging, I can publicly display that geekiness for anyone to see!

But enough of that.

Whatever you think of politics, there can be no denying that this is a historic election. I had on CBS news when the projected victory came on. It was approximately 10pm, and we put our kids to bed around 9pm. (put to bed – falling asleep is sorta outside my circle of control….they’re rarely if ever sleeping that quickly, well, at least the 10-year-old boy.) I called out to the boy to come upstairs to watch with us. He recalled from earlier in the evening that 270 electoral votes were needed to win. He was hugely voting for Obama, so he cheered the likes of sports fans when he put it together in his mind and saw the 283 electoral votes streaming by on the screen.

I actually got teary-eyed. Okay, sure, I’m an Obama supporter; there, I said it, but again, regardless of your political views, just think about the changes our world and country has gone through, even in my short lifetime, let alone that of folks old enough to have been alive when Martin Luther King delivered his “I have a dream” speech. I mean, wow?!? The dream is coming true, in the lifetimes of those who heard those historic words. I cannot even begin to put myself in the shoes of those who suffered under segregation practices, and culturally accepted and at times enforced racism…these people seeing the world change so much, so very, very much that a black man was able to be elected to the highest office in the land, in a country that is closely watched by the rest of the world. What a time to be alive and to be an American. Things can change. Could we actually becoming a world where the color of your skin is not going to matter? By golly, it would seem we’re getting there. This white gal has some hope, after a lifetime of administrations that have largely deserved the cynical consideration directed toward them by those in my generation.

Okay, I haven’t said anything new or insightful here. You’ve heard it all from minds far wiser than mine. Time to sign off. (the boy got to hear the historic acceptance speech, and I think he’ll remember that his old mom ensured dad’s practicality didn’t overrule his getting to listen to it. He was pretty darned excited to be included in the moment.)

Peace all! – Karla

P.S. As an aside, thankfulness pouring forth for the mild, delightful weather for this Wisconsin November. ***70’s***** Cool, no WARM! Either way, yippee!!!