Life in Academia

In the 45 minutes before the next class. . .

2011-11-03T11:21:00.005-05:00

here is my November list of small things I am thankful for:

the alum that just walked through my door to pick up his yearbook. His compliments to our school have put a smile on my face that won't be fading anytime soon. Interesting--he was not one of my students.
the ability to be creative. I love teaching, but my real creativity comes out when I work in the arts.
my cleaning person. When I go home this evening, my house will be spotless, so I can concentrate on being with my husband and preparing for guests this weekend. I won't be frazzled by having to make sure the house passes the white glove inspection.
facebook. While facebook may make our lives too transparent, it has given us the ability to stay in contact with people we don't see regularly--but would like to.
my iPod. It has to be on my list of those unnecessary possessions I would hate to live without. Right now, Brahms is playing in my office.
interruptions. Since I obviously can't prevent them, I'll try to enjoy them. One of the reasons God gave us the church was so that we would be connected not just to Him, but to each other. Every interruption is a chance to connect with another person, usually a brother or sister in Christ.
ears that work. For most of the last month, my ears have been plugged up, so my hearing has been distorted. I am appreciating being able to hear with clarity.
new friends--and old ones. New friends are always exciting, since there is so much to find out about the other person. Old friends know you and your flaws. There is no awkwardness, since your flaws are already known, and you have the joy of a shared history.
the Coffeepot of Consolation (the Keurig machine in my office). Sheldon Cooper might joke about offering a hot beverage to someone who is depressed, but being able to be hospitable in a small way is a great joy. There are not many more pleasurable activities than sharing tea (or coffee, or hot chocolate, or chai, or--you get the idea) with someone along with a conversation. It's even better when there's a little leftover Halloween candy in the drawer.

May you all find small things that enrich your life.

The Path Back

2011-07-30T21:42:00.000-05:00

I have not always been a good money manager. If it weren´t for my husband, who is good at money, and the radio advice of Dave Ramsey, I'd be far worse off than I am. But through hard work and discipline, I can say that the family funds are pretty healthy right now. Discipline is not pleasant; our culture preaches the value of immediate gratification, and credit cards make purchasing our "wants" now all too easy. Eventually, though, the day of reckoning will come, and the hard choices have to be made--and they will be even more painful since we have become used to living beyond our means.

If a household is spending more than it takes in, there are really only two choices: cut spending or increase income. Digging out of the financial hole will be quicker if you do both methods at once, but even with a second job, you're in for an austere time. Instead of eating steak, it will be Aldi's brand Chicken Noodle soup, with generic peanut butter on no-name bread. No eating out, no vacations, no new clothes, no luxuries until the bills are caught up.

With this in mind, I would remind our elected officials--who have been spending like teenagers with a new credit card, paid for by Daddy--that the bills will come due. Our national debt is disgraceful and dangerous to our security, and we must mend our ways. Unfortunately, this means cutting spending and/or increasing revenue. Since no one in Washington seems to grasp this concept and put forth a plan, here is mine:

Immediately chop the budget of all departments 10%, across the board. (Note that 10% is in today's budget, not the expected increase in the budget.) Each department head decides where the 10% comes from, whether to lay off employees, reduce salaries, or turn off the air conditioning.

Eliminate pension benefits for all federal employees under age 45. They will have the ability to use IRAs just like the rest of us. Pensions for those between 45-55 will be only 1/2 the current amount. Those over 55 will receive whatever pensions they have today.

No new federal programs--for anything--unless a federal program is eliminated, and the savings must meet or exceed the cost of the new program.

Every wage earner must pay federal income tax, with a new minimum tax rate of 5%. When all pay, fewer people will clamor for benefits paid for by others.

Every federal worker must contribute, out of pocket, to his/her own health insurance plan.

Pensions for congresspeople, and senators will be prorated, based on 20 years of service. Anything less gets a smaller pension--just like the rest of the working world. Their pensions will also be subject to the pension rule above: if you're under 45, you don't get one.

Forget "prevailing wage" rules. Contracts go to the lowest bidder, and if that means carpenters made $25/hour instead of $30, so be it. We can no longer afford "Cadillac" payouts.

This is obviously not a complete plan, but it is, at least, a start. As I tell my English students, it's easier to revise something that exists, so get something down on paper and go from there.

My Life Right Now

2010-06-10T14:21:00.002-05:00

Reading: churched: one kid's journey toward God despite a holy mess, by Matthew Paul Turner. This is a gift from my daughter and son-in-law, who know I enjoy funny books about religion. So far, it's sarcastic--and depressing. The idea that some of us have to come to love God in spite of our church is just sad. But the writer's style is enough to keep me reading, even though I don't really want to see myself or my church in what he writes.

Enjoying: The Daily Audio Bible, read by Brian Hardin. This is strangely addicting. I've read the Bible over and over, but this is really the first time I've heard it. Free podcast, available on iTunes. Check it out.

Hearing: The Priests. They have a couple of albums out now, both of which I have. 3 guys, singing sacred music, most of it classical.

Drinking: Celestial Seasonings English Breakfast Tea, from Professor Perrey's Coffeepot of Consolation. This may be the only coffeepot with its own facebook group.

Planning: Meaningful assignments for the fall semester of Reading, English Comp. I, and College Study Skills.

Knitting: a shawl of variegated pink silk and gray sparkly mohair, and a baby blanket of blue acrylic that I wish I liked better than I do.

Forgetting: Lunch, again. Sigh.

Wishing: for vacation time. Maybe the end of July?

The Winter of My Discontent

2010-02-03T16:20:00.002-06:00

I’m not sure that 2010 has had much to recommend it so far. Bitter cold, rain, fog—the whole month seemed to be one long, dank ice cave. And then it got worse.

I tripped over my own feet coming out of church and fell down. A mighty boom it was, with an impressive owey. I fractured the head of the radius up near the elbow. For the 98% of us who don’t know what a radius is, let’s just say I broke my right elbow. Instantly, my life changed. Simple things like dressing and eating were now difficult. Fixing my hair was impossible—as was dressing without assistance. Turning the page of a book was agony.

Now, a week and a half later, with 3 physical therapy sessions, I am better. Not great, but improved. I can dress myself, and if the fork is long enough, eat. I can knit and read, but not without pain. Vicodin and I don’t get along well, so I don’t fear turning into the English professor version of Dr. House, but I understand how chronic pain can make sunny tempers turn thunderous.

So now, the great lessons (for what good is life experience if you can’t draw lessons from it?):

· Pain can, indeed, draw you to God. It’s much easier to find time to read the Bible when the only thing you can do is read (or listen).

· You’ll be surprised at who cares about you—and who does not. At the church I’ve served week in, week out for more than 20 years, only one senior staff member called (or facebooked or emailed or snail-mailed) to check up on me. Facebook friends have been free with their prayers, as have students. The church where I play the piano once a month, though, sent a card signed by nearly all the regular attenders.

· It’s OK to ask for the help you need.

· Your safe, secure life can be turned upside down in an instant.

I’m looking forward to spring, which the groundhog assures me is only 5 weeks and 6 days away. May it be sunny and warm, and may I learn to walk upright (without training wheels).

Angry Conservative Rant

2010-01-20T16:50:00.001-06:00

I am an angry conservative. Maybe I’m a little less angry today than yesterday, but angry nonetheless. I am more than tired of being ignored, and when I can’t be ignored, belittled and treated as though I am too stupid to realize my ideas don’t matter. I think it is past time for politicians to wake up and remember that they are public servants.

Yes, I said servant. That means that my elected representatives are there to represent me and my neighbors—to serve our interests, not to determine them. When we can no longer call, email, or write our elected representatives and get any kind of response, favorable or not, the servant has forgotten his/her position. Our public servants are absolutely convinced that they have become our masters, and now want to tell us what we must or must not do. We must buy certain kinds of insurance (but not too much, lest we have more than our neighbors). We must not resell children’s toys, furniture or clothing (because manufacturing rules have changed, and we are not competent to determine what will be unsafe for younger children—who must be more fragile than the children who preceded them). We must allow them to spend ever more of our money for nonsensical things and not say a thing. Should we whimper about the injustice, we are condescendingly reminded that it is our duty to support those who have less, whether or not their poverty is the result of poor choices.

It is time to remember Joseph, the biblical example of the good servant. Though he was involuntarily a servant, the Bible tells us that he served so honorably that his bosses (Potiphar, the jailer, and finally, Pharoah) had no care because Joseph was in charge. He could be trusted to deal honestly, wisely, and to his master’s benefit with everything under his care. Our current public servants must be watched like unhousebroken puppies. When out of our sight, they will tear up the furniture, sleep on our pillows, and then pee on the rug. When discovered, they will put on the innocent face, hoping we will love them anyway.

Sorry, Congress. You’re not a lovable puppy; puppies can eventually be trained. You are the corrupt sociopath who has no conscience. You will do anything to maintain your own power and further your own agenda. So do not be surprised when your masters—us—find you revolting and throw you out.

And be glad you’re not a puppy. Untrainable, aggressive dogs get put to sleep.

Ask a Grown-Up

2010-01-01T11:20:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I heard an ad for Dial-a-Psychic, giving a sample question. It occurred to me that what the caller needed was not a psychic; any competent adult could have given him decent advice after asking a few logical questions. A better service could be provided by eliminating the psychic component and renaming it Dial-an-Adult.

So many problems could be fixed with just a little Adult advice. Dating issues, child-rearing problems, and budget troubles could all be cured with a little input from someone with her head screwed on straight. Take these examples:

Caller: Joe isn’t the kind of guy I’d want to marry, but it’s OK to have a couple of dates, isn’t it?

Adult: And what is the purpose of dating if not to find a marriage partner? Don’t waste your time (and maybe your life).

Caller: I don’t understand why my kids won’t behave. I love them so much, and I just want to be their friend.

Adult: Kids don’t want parental friends; they want PARENTS! Get up and discipline them. Use time-outs, deprivation of favorite activities, and good, old-fashioned chores. If your children don’t behave, it’s probably because you were so concerned that they wouldn’t like you that you abdicated your role as the grown-up in your household. You must consistently, lovingly, and sometimes physically assert your dominance. They may tell you they hate you, but somewhere down the road they will thank you.

Caller: My credit cards are maxed out, and I just don’t know how I’m going to provide Christmas for my kids this year. Can you recommend an agency to help?

Adult: Sorry. Sometimes the best lessons your kids learn are hard ones. You messed up your credit? Too bad; your kids won’t have a Toys-r-Us Christmas. This year, you will have to do your Christmas shopping at the thrift store and garage sales or make items from what you have on hand. If your budget is underfunded, have a family meeting and let your kids know that sacrifices have to be made by everyone. Then cut up those cards and begin to pay your debts.

Adult advice could help many people. Unfortunately, most people don’t want to behave like adults because responsible living means self-denial, delayed gratification, and hard work. Dial-an-Adult is a great idea which will never work. It’s easier to call a psychic.

Anybody need a mint?

2009-12-04T14:19:00.002-06:00

Several weeks ago our church hired a new senior minister. The getting-to-know-you phase is almost over, for which I’m sure everyone is grateful. One of his first sermons dealt with making the most of evangelistic opportunities, and he encouraged us to invite someone we knew to church. To remind us, we were handed Lifesaver mints with instructions not to eat the mint until we had invited one person.

I thought this was a hokey idea, and my first inclination is always to balk at orders, but I saved the mint, and it looked at me in silent reproach each time I opened my change purse. You see, between working here at the college and volunteering at the church, I know almost no one who isn’t already a Christian and active in a home church. Even my next-door neighbors on one side attend our church, and the ones on the other side have made it pretty clear that they don’t like to be repeatedly invited. So, I kept the mint for a month and finally tossed it out; it was pretty hairy-looking, even through its plastic wrapping.

But the idea wouldn’t die. Last night I went to get my hair cut and the grays covered. The stylist was very busy, and we started late. I thought my hair was almost done when she sighed, exasperated, and said, “This is just unacceptable—we’ll have to do it over.” My stubborn gray roots had not processed correctly, so I knew I was in for another hour at least, dashing my hopes of stopping by Kohl’s to see what was on sale. I made an offhand comment about my husband being at Journey to Bethlehem practice so he wouldn’t mind if I were late. At that point the conversation turned. My stylist said she and her family had come to Journey every year since she was 12, and she was looking forward this year to bringing her boyfriend and their little boy. I waited for my hair to process, and she went on to her next clients, a little girl and her mother. I sat in the next chair while she turned the girl into a princess, and began to get excited as she invited the girl and her family to attend Journey.

After they left, she went back to finishing my stubborn hair. By this time, the salon was empty, and she became more serious. She had not had any religious training as a child, and she said the first time she heard the Christmas story was at Journey. Now that her son is 2, she is looking for a church where she can find out more about Jesus, a church where her son will be welcomed so that he won’t have to wait for a pageant to learn about Christ. I explained the many opportunities for Bible study at our church, and made sure she had the service times. As I left, I wished her a Merry Christmas and told her I would see her in January. She said, “No, I think you’ll see me Sunday.”

Sure wish I had a mint.

My Thankful List

2009-11-17T10:05:00.002-06:00

When I ask my students to name things for which they are grateful, they are fond of giving Sunday School answers. They are thankful for Jesus, for safe travel, for the college’s free tuition, and so on, but I wonder if they—and I—forget the small, ordinary blessings we have, those things which escape our attention until we don’t have them. Now, before I have them make their lists, I will make my own.

These are the small things I am thankful for:

1. An inviting house to come home to every night. It’s even better when my husband gets there before me and has the fire going and candles lit. Getting Pug Therapy while relaxing in my Happy Chair makes the trials of the day fade.

2. My Kindle. I hate to be bored, but I just can’t take enough books around with me to be sure that I will have a book with me that I want to read. My Kindle holds an entire library and fits in my (grandmother-sized) purse.

3. Sunsets over Creve Coeur Lake. The sun sets at just about the time I go home, and the colors of the sky over the lake and the Missouri River remind me that God still has all of the crayons in the celestial crayon box.

4. Watching students spontaneously stop to pray with one another. They are building friendships with each other and growing closer to God.

5. My iPod, with its semi-custom fitted earphones. Christmas music in your ears does wonders on a gloomy November day.

6. The ability to make things. I love to give gifts, particularly gifts that are spontaneous. My stash of stuff helps me turn out cards and projects quickly.

7. Starbucks instant coffee. Ready when I need it—usually about 2 in the afternoon.

8. My car, the Reverend Mother. It’s not small, but it gets me where I need to go, comfortably. I don’t want a new car as long as this one runs.

9. The DVR. We can watch shows without having to endure the temptation of commercials, and the shows consume less time. We can go to bed at an earlier hour without feeling we are missing something.

10. Podcasts. The ones I listen to are free, and range from the best parts of Prairie Home Companion to Bible study to knitting. I put in my earbuds, press a button, and get education and entertainment while I accomplish something else, like knitting.

My list could continue, but ten items are enough for now. Enjoy the small things in your life, and remember that God doesn’t just give us the huge blessings; he cares enough to let us find joy in small things, too.

Eight Years Ago Today

2009-09-11T13:00:00.000-05:00

Eight years ago today dawned bright, clear, and beautiful—the perfect September day. My family busied itself getting ready for the day, just like any other normal Tuesday. I remember curling my hair, listening to the radio reports of a plane flying into the World Trade Center. I had visions of a tragically off-course Cessna, and hoped no great damage had been done to the buildings. During breakfast, my son and I watched TV coverage, and realized that the hole in the building was much too large for a private plane. About that time, we saw the second plane hit the other tower. (I did not realize at that time I was watching the sister of one of my internet friends die; she was a passenger.) My son and I looked at one another as the reality of what we had seen dawned on us: this was a planned event, and the United States was under attack.

Unable to discern the best course of action would be, I headed off to work, listening to my car radio. A reporter inside the Pentagon described a loud noise, then said he had to get off the air. He was being evacuated. A short time later, the radio announcer reported that all airspace was being closed and no civilian takeoffs would be allowed. My college was under the flight path for planes using Lambert Field, so you could always see contrails overhead. That morning, one by one, those contrails dissolved into the clear blue sky and were not replaced. At that point, I realized how accustomed I’d become to sounds of planes. Suddenly, it was quiet.

Lacking any directives otherwise, I went to my class, but no teaching was accomplished. Instead, I answered what questions I could. My students, all 18-20 years old, wanted to know about the draft and whether I thought it would be necessary. They knew, immediately, that we were at war. Students who were members of the National Guard and the reserves received orders to make ready to report for active duty.

After class, we watched replays of the towers crashing. We would watch the same scenes, over and over, for days, still trying to process the idea that this was real, not cinematic special effects.

The rest of the day was a blur. No one knew who had attacked us, or why, or even how many planes were involved. We knew there had been 4 crashes; we didn’t know if there were more. Reporters, lacking confirmed information, repeated any rumor they heard. What we did know was that we were terribly proud to be Americans, and we grieved the loss of all as though they were our own family.

I was the faculty advisor for Campus Crusade for Christ. The members of the club sensed what was needed on campus, and went about arranging a prayer service. That day, the whole campus—students and faculty—came together to pray for the families of the dead, the leaders of the country, and ourselves. That day, the small gathering of Christians on a secular campus was the church—unified and loving. That day, we all remembered to say “I love you” lest we not have another chance.

No one hopes for another tragedy. Too bad tragedy was what it took to realign our values. Let’s not forget again—be the people we were 8 years ago today.

Today's Gratitude List

2009-08-26T14:17:00.002-05:00

Picture of a smiling granddaughter as my computer wallpaper. She’s happy and healthy, and we are blessed.
Better than expected papers from my English class. We won’t have to spend as long on the beginning steps, so there will be more time to learn to write well.
Good attitudes from students, which make it easier to maintain a positive outlook myself.
My dinner menu is planned, and I have everything on hand to make it. Now we can eat and still have time left to enjoy the evening after dinner’s over.
Not even one person has asked me a computer question today, so I have had time to do my own work uninterrupted.
The shuffle feature on the iPod works well. I’m not even skipping the Christmas songs today.
My dogs still love me--especially when I have bones in my hand. I think my husband loves me, too, though I don't tempt him with bones.

Perspective

2009-08-11T12:05:00.002-05:00

I lost a friend yesterday morning. She died, too soon, of a malignancy that all of the skill of the doctors couldn’t stop, in spite of all the fervent prayers offered on her behalf. She had accomplished all that God had for her to do, and he took her. She now has no need of faith, for she is in the presence of the Lord. Since there is no time in Heaven, it seems to her as though she has always been there, and this thought comforts us.

We were young women together. For the first couple of years we knew each other, one of us was always pregnant. We started a church together. I helped start a Christian school; she and her husband established a Christian daycare. Another friend and I gave her a baby shower for her second son; she threw me a party when I had my own surprise baby a year later. She sang in the choir; I played the piano. We sang in a trio together, and watched our children grow. Our church grew, too, and she worked in children’s ministry and continued in the choir. We attended Bible study together. Her husband helped mine lay my kitchen floor; in May, my husband returned the favor and helped lay the hardwood in her hall. We commiserated through remodeling projects and bought hot tubs. We drank pots of Nicaraguan coffee over after-church desserts. Once our children were all grown, we would meet in Branson for vacation. We shared an amazing night last Christmas watching the Silver Dollar City tree lighting show, and then closed down a restaurant in town (in Branson, that happens at 8 p.m. in December).

Last Easter, we went to church, where her husband, dressed as a high priest, served as a visual aid for the sermon. Afterward, we all went out to dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant where we laughed over the live goat that was part of the service, and then the conversation turned to our middle-aged aches and pains. She complained of a backache, which we all thought was because of a fall at Jazzercise. We swapped names of chiropractors. Ordinary meal, ordinary conversation—we just didn’t realize it would be the last time on this earth we could sip hot tea and linger over a meal. By the next weekend, she was deathly ill.

If we were younger, her death would be looked upon as a tragedy. She did die too soon—but not unusually young. For those of us in late middle age, losing a friend is a circumstance we will face with increasing frequency, until we keep our own appointment with eternity. If we live long enough, our circle of old friends will grow smaller and smaller, and there will be fewer and fewer people who remember us before our faces wrinkled and our hair turned gray. Our task now is to remember how short our time together on earth might be, and to appreciate each moment we spend. We have great and precious promises, and eternity will indeed be grand. I look forward to it with all my heart. But for now, I miss her.

Defriended

2009-07-14T10:38:00.001-05:00

Dear (former Facebook) friend:

It has come to my attention that you “defriended” me on Facebook. This is surprising, since we have been friends close to 45 years, and a friendship of that long standing should be able to take just about anything. I am confident that I did nothing to offend you; rather, one of my family members responded critically to one of your posts. You probably think I agree with him. I do agree with his sentiment, but he was harsh. To be fair, you were commenting about recent events at my church, which used to be your church, too.

Understand, friend, that I love my church. My family has sacrificed 28 years of our lives to establish and build the body of Christ in our area. We have spent time, money, and treasure, and prayed and wept over it as much as over any member of our family. We don’t always agree with the decisions of the elders, but since my husband has served as an elder, we understand how difficult some decisions can be and how much soul-searching goes into the process. We also understand that the elders are our God-given leaders, and as members of this particular body, we must submit to them as a spiritual discipline. Unless the elders do something in conflict with scripture, submit we will. If we feel they have handled a situation poorly, we are to handle this as any other conflict—privately.

You have chosen to publicly criticize our body, and you’ve obviously reacted rashly when you were called out for this. I urge you to temper your comments with good will, since you still have friends (including me) at this church. Wish us well, as we wish your church to prosper. We may no longer worship at the same place, but we still worship the same God, and I expect to spend eternity with you. I’m just sorry, that for the time being, we won’t be practicing fellowship now.

So Long, Michael

2009-07-06T23:13:00.001-05:00

Michael Jackson will be buried tomorrow, and the world is fascinated. Fans and the merely curious have submitted their requests to attend the funeral, and the lucky (?) have been chosen, most to honor someone they had neither met nor seen. The hoopla over the “services” strikes me as odd at best, pathetic at worst. Yes, he was a public figure. Sure, he influenced pop music for years. Of course, we are saddened—50 is too young to die, especially when you look backward, not forward, to 50.

But I am not mourning his death. MJ was a decent musician. He could carry a tune without a lot of electronic processing, but much of his music was hardly uplifting. He was a talented dancer, but his costumes and movements could be found under the dictionary entry for “lewd,” especially in his later years. His personal conduct was hardly admirable, with multiple accusations of pedophilia, a couple of sham marriages, and less than stellar parenting methods. He should have been rich beyond counting, but he did not manage his fortune and was deeply in debt. If news reports are to be believed, he also had a problem with prescription drugs, and seemed to be obsessed with transforming his appearance from black male to white female. He was most definitely not a role model for our children.

Our reaction to Michael Jackson should more properly be pity, not admiration. We cannot judge what his ultimate eternal destination will be, but we cannot reasonably say that most of his adult life brought glory to God or caused his fans to think of anything that was true, noble, right, pure, lovely, or admirable. He had great potential and squandered it along with his fortune. The willful waste of his life is the real tragedy.

In Praise of Followers

2009-06-10T10:32:00.006-05:00

I heard a commercial yesterday for a large private university near here, advertising their mission of producing exceptional leaders. My own college's mission statement is similar, proclaiming that we will produce servant-leaders, a mission I wholeheartedly support, since we are in the business of training ministers and leaders of ministries. But the commercial did set me to wondering whether or not we really want everyone to be a leader, not to mention that making everyone a leader is contrary to the word’s definition. I think the time has come to get a dose of reality and train people to be educated, discerning followers.

All of us have to be followers. All people have some authority over them--yes, even President Obama. All of us have to learn to submit and obey. Most of us will exercise leadership only within very narrow limits, perhaps only in our own homes, so we will spend considerably more time following instead of leading. Hence, understanding the characteristics of a good follower is important.

So what makes a good follower? First, understanding that a follower is not the leader. The follower must submit to the authority of the leader. This does not mean that the follower is the slave; rather, he is the supporter and helper of the leader. The leader will go nowhere on his own, and opposition will slow or halt progress for all.

The follower, though, has an obligation to make sure the leader is heading in the right direction. Blind following may lead to an undesirable place. Therefore, the follower has to use discernment in choosing which leader to follow, and must be ready to speak his mind and advise the leader of obstacles. Good leaders rely on their helpers and will listen; poor leaders will find themselves leading no one.

So we must learn to choose leaders wisely and to hold them accountable for their leadership. We must pray for our leaders and do all we can to make the pathway smooth for all of us. But if our leader is leading us in the wrong direction, we have an obligation to stop following. We need to remember the saying we heard from our mothers: “If ____ told you to jump off the cliff, would you?”

The Aftermath

2009-05-27T11:11:00.000-05:00

Our daughter got married last weekend. She married a fellow we really like, and they are very well suited to each other in terms of intellect and interests. Weddings are always stressful affairs for the families involved, but I think we managed to make it through without too much difficulty. There were glitches, but the end result was achieved: a new family was formed, with much rejoicing.

This is our 3rd child to be married, so we are familiar with the range of emotions that we can expect. This time, though, the son-in-law has lived with us for almost a year, so we didn’t just lose one person from the household; we lost two. So we scramble to find a new, temporary normal—the “baby” leaves for college at the end of the summer. Then, after almost 33 years, the husband and I will be alone again.

Do we dread this? No, not much. We enjoy our adult kids, and we also enjoy our freedom. If we want to eat dinner at 4:30—or at 8:30—we can. I can run around in my pj’s after supper and not care if my sags and bags are apparent. We can eat food our kids still find disgusting. We can rediscover what we saw in each other B.C. (Before Children). We can take hot showers (hooray for a huge water heater and only the two of us).

So here’s to the natural order of life. My spouse and I intend to enjoy our “golden years” while we can, preferably with lots of grandchildren (hear that, kids: multiply!).

My New Career

2009-04-18T22:13:00.003-05:00

Apparently the Department of Homeland Security has decided that my next career is that of right-wing extremist. Since I believe abortion is evil, all immigrants should be legal, the Second Amendment is still valid, big government is dangerous, and Tax Day Tea Parties are just an exercise in the right of free assembly, I definitely fit DHS's definition of extremist. Oh--I also belong to a conservative religious group. Oh, well. I've changed careers before, and I guess one more time before I retire won't kill me.

Hey, Janet Napolitano--you are invited to my office for a tea party. Have a seat on my couch and I'll brew you a cup of tea and maybe feed you a scone if I have any left. Enjoy the lilac candles and the classical music playing on my iPod. We'll talk. Maybe the tranquil atmosphere will calm you down. If not, I have a Hallmark panic button for you to press. Get to know me, and you'll see just how extreme I really am. I'm about the least likely person to pose a physical threat to you, but I might just threaten your own left-wing extremist view of me as a danger to the New Society. Maybe if you left your insulated Washington hideout and met real middle Americans you wouldn't have such a phobia about us.

So Janet--see you on my couch.

My New Hero(ine)

2008-09-04T14:05:00.003-05:00

I watched Sarah Palin's speech last night at the RNC. I usually abhor political speeches; they're generally badly delivered, cliche-ridden propaganda pieces, and I flatly don't trust any politician to tell the truth. Maybe Palin didn't tell the truth either, and her speech had its share of old jokes and awkward pauses, but I like her. She has strength of character.

Since she was named as the VP nominee, Palin and her family have undergone nothing short of persecution. The media made sure we knew about every possible flaw: pregnant daughter, violent ex-relatives, her husband's 22-year-old DUI, special needs son. Oh--she also goes to church and urges graduates to pray for the country's leaders! The audacity! When the media begins to comment on the candidate's dress, hairstyle, and "twangy" voice, you can be sure of one thing: they are afraid of her. Since they can't find any substantive failings, media pundits resort to personal attacks.

Through all of the attacks disguised as reporting, Palin stood tall. She treated the media barbs with all the respect they deserved: she ignored them. She upheld her family, including the pregnant daughter and her gutsy soon-to-be son-in-law, and then got down to the business of making her potential boss look good. She fulfilled the traditional attack dog role of VP with well-placed barbs, all the funnier because she pointed out the truth.

The sexist attacks on Sarah Palin anger me. I, too, came of age in an era where women's roles were changing. Growing up, I thought my life would be a stay-at-home mom, not because I wanted it, but because that's what women did. I am grateful that we can now have whatever career suits us, provided we are willing to make the sacrifices. I resent deeply the intimation that Palin cannot raise her children properly without being at home. No one asks whether or not Obama or Biden should seek office because it might take time away from the kids. Palen's husband seems to be supportive and ready for a role reversal. His opinion of her running is the only one that matters.

In the words of a famous book, "Go, Sarah, go. Run, Sarah, run. Win, win, Sarah."

Emails, IV's, and a Logic Exercise

2008-08-19T19:22:00.004-05:00

We got the coolest email yesterday from our son and his wife. He had recorded their latest doctor's visit on his iPhone, and sent us a recording of our grandchild's heartbeat. In the background you can hear the doctor explaining which heartbeat belonged to Mom and which to the baby. My daughter-in-law is only about 11 weeks pregnant, but the doctor says very plainly, "And the faster one is the baby's."

Our admissions director at the college is also about 11 weeks pregnant. She's having a bad time, and came to work over the weekend dragging an IV to keep her hydrated and fed. Even though she feels ill most of the time, she smiles when she speaks of "the baby," and says, dreamily, "It will all be worth it."

Notice: both babies (embryos, fetuses, buns in the oven, etc.) are babies. Not just to their mothers, but to everyone around them--including the doctors. Both young mothers have endured unpleasantness. Pregnancy is neither easy nor romantic.

That got me thinking. Last week the Obama/McCain town hall debate asked when a child was entitled to full rights. McCain answered definitively, "at conception." Obama waffled and said something about that being above his pay grade. For someone who wishes to be the most powerful person in the world, he should know that there will be no one above his pay grade, so it is his duty to make up his mind. I fear what he was trying to avoid saying was that human rights are to be reserved for the convenient, the wanted, and the perfect. To acknowledge that view would be to acknowledge that he doesn't really believe in human rights at all, if the one needing the rights would cost time or money. To Obama, "All men are created equal," but apparently there is debate either about what constitutes a human, or when, exactly, creation of said human has reached enough maturity to be deemed complete. Such uncertainty about definitions ultimately leads to no definition at all. The age at which one becomes eligible for rights could be redefined at will, so any given characteristic could mean that one was not really human. Such was the logic that allowed the Holocaust.

Obama needs to go hear a few ultrasounds.

Here's to welcoming new babies--born and unborn!

Renewable Energy

2008-08-04T00:09:00.003-05:00

The lights went out at church today, midway through the 3rd service. We had just finished one set of songs, and we were about to begin another, more worshipful set, when there was the "pop" of electrical gadgetry suddenly silenced. We were left with only the dim lighting of emergency lights--several hundred people with no sound system and no video screens. In a church the size of ours, you come to depend on technology for sound, lighting, and climate control, but there would be no modern conveniences today. The worship leader shifted gears in midstream, and I was glad my parents taught me to memorize hymns (both words and music). Instead of our carefully practiced worship set with band accompaniment, we had just one singer, one piano, and a congregation relying on long-remembered hymns like "Amazing Grace."

While staffers and interns scrambled behind the scenes to find enough candles to shed light on the minister's Bible, the minister relied on his memory of the Word. There was quiet in our building as all concentrated on hearing one voice in a place built for a thousand people. Once in a while you could hear a baby's cry, but mostly what you heard was the silence of people straining to hear a godly man proclaim his next-to-last sermon after 60 years of preaching.

In the dim silence, God began to work. People sang old familiar words with their hearts. Though no one asked the congregation to stand, many stood, raised their hands, and worshiped. At the end of the service, many came to ask for prayer. Communion time was the most meaningful in recent memory. At the conclusion of the service, people were reluctant to leave and stayed in their seats, praying. The lights came on as we were dismissed, but the church was slow to empty.

All in all, this power outage made heavenly power visible.

Here's to darkness that reveals the light--the true source of renewable energy.

Incurable Optimism

2008-07-31T15:03:00.004-05:00

Tuesday I parked my car in the supermarket parking lot and noticed the car in the next space. It had clearly seen better days. It was dinged, dented, rusted, and old; one of its fenders didn't match the rest of the car. This car was in such bad shape that the owner didn't even feel the need to roll up its windows and lock it. Nevertheless, optimism reigned in the heart of its driver. Swinging proudly from the rearview mirror was an air freshener--New Car scent!

Spiritual Gifts, Spiritual Disciplines

2008-07-28T09:51:00.004-05:00

Yesterday our beloved minister announced that he had taken a bit of grief over his statement last week that he feels some Christians give too much weight to the issue of spiritual gifts and not enough to the fruits of the Spirit. As a participant (victim?) of a couple of spiritual gifts inventories and the professor of students who take these same checklists, I see our preacher's point. Some students are dismayed to think that they might not be spiritually gifted. Others quickly become puffed up and attempt to use their gift (forcibly, if necessary). They are much like a toddler in one of those battery-powered cars--he thinks he's driving, but he's not.

I've had people tell me that I should pay attention to them on certain matters because these topics fall under the purview of their spiritual gift. Sometimes I pay attention, but often, I don't. Why? Because spiritual gifts are only as good as the spiritual maturity of the person with the gift. Spiritual gifts, like any other gift, can indeed be misused. If the "gifted" Christian is relying on his perception of his "gift" and not studying what God says, more often than not, the gift will be misused. Without knowledge of what God thinks about good and evil, the "Discerner" might substitute his own judgment, informed by popular culture rather than scripture. Yes, one might have the gift of evangelism, but without a good grounding in the word, the "Evangelist" is just about as reliable as the used car salesman down the block.

So how do we know whose spiritual gift to trust? Look at the person's fruits! Is he joyful, good, loving, kind, peaceful, gentle, patient, faithful, and above all, self-controlled? If not, do not trust his gifts. The person who is truly controlled by God cannot help but show his maturity by his actions.

Back to the (almost) normal

2008-07-20T17:48:00.003-05:00

The dear husband and I have returned from our short foray to the Land of the Thousand Putt-Putts. We managed to spend an entire 3-day vacation in Branson avoiding musical shows. We thought of going to see Noah, but the TV clip I saw dissuaded me; I just don't think Noah would do a hoe-down while taking a break from ark-building. And if he did, he probably wouldn't have thought it would be worth nearly $50 a person to see it! Somehow, Noah: the Musical just doesn't seem to treat the destruction of the world with the sorrow it deserves, even if people seem to rave about the show.

We fulfilled one of the items on my bucket list--we rode the Ducks. The ride was every bit as hokey as you'd expect, but I picked up some interesting tidbits of local history I hadn't learned in my many, many visits to southwestern Missouri, and I don't think I'd ever been on Table Rock Lake. We made good use of our camera. Shopping on Branson Landing was fun, too, and a deceptive way to get exercise and sunshine.

But mostly, we relaxed. Hubby read, and I knitted--all without being interrupted a single time by the telephone. I can remember wishing that my parents would do something--anything!--on vacation besides sit and read their stash of magazines, but now there is nothing quite as appealing as quiet reading time. We sat on the deck of our bed and breakfast, looked out at Lake Taneycomo below us, and listened to the birds and the distant bells at the College of the Ozarks. We brewed coffee in our room and snacked on whatever we wanted (Honey Nut Cheerios mix and pretzels). We took our time coming home, taking nearly all day to make a 4 1/2-hour trip.

So now, we begin the slippery slope to Christmas. School starts in 4 weeks, and there won't be a moment's peace until finals. I love the (organized) chaos of school, but I really needed this past week.

So here's to quiet--just not too much of it.

Where's the ACME Catalog?

2008-07-13T14:59:00.004-05:00

I miss Bugs Bunny. My brother and I spent many a childhood Saturday morning watching such classic shows as The Three Stooges (nyuk, nyuk, nyuk), Yogi Bear (where looking for an unattended picnic was a way of life), Mighty Mouse (Here he comes to save the day!), and my personal favorite, Bugs Bunny. I now realize we were learning some dangerous lessons:

Idiocy should be rewarded with a bop on the head.
Picnic food is good, and meant to be enjoyed occasionally--even if it is fried or loaded with mayonnaise.
Villains should be quickly dispatched, preferably with an uppercut.
Anvils and explosives are useful for temporarily dispatching one's enemies.

When our sons were small, Looney Tunes remained a part of our Saturday mornings. I let the kids think watching cartoons was their idea. Now I know I was teaching them the wrong values.

This past Saturday morning, I was working in my Stamp Dungeon and turned on my 5-inch TV for some background noise and maybe a couple of nostalgic laughs. I quickly realized that children's TV has changed a lot in the 10 years or so since I last tuned in. After skipping the infomercial on CBS (no sales resistance), I found what passes for preteen entertainment on another channel.

The first program featured live actors in a variation of Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney's "Let's have a show!" movies. The stars were producing a weekly cable show featuring crafts kids could make. The obvious theme of the show was saving money--but not for the traditional reasons: college fund, new bicycle, iPod, etc. Kids are now supposed to save money to send to the Cause of the Week, in this case victims of a tornado. Saving money for oneself was laughingly ridiculed.

The next program was animated, and I eagerly waited to see the villain's nefarious plans backfire. I must be hopelessly out-of-date. There was no clear villain, just a disagreement between characters which was solved with a negotiation session. Boring, boring, boring. This program taught that conflict is bad, compromise is good, and Negotiation Makes Everyone a Winner. At the end of my hour of kiddy TV, I felt like I'd been to church and heard only the sermon on the sin of Greed. Preachy, preachy, preachy.

After reflection, I came to a conclusion about these politically correct propaganda pieces: they are misleading, and therefore, wrong. First, it is not wrong to save money for your own purposes. It's not wrong to give your savings away, either, but you should not be compelled to "share." To be fair, the little girl in the show was following her heart in giving away her money, but the message of the show was clearly in favor of always giving away your surplus.

Secondly, there are some situations where compromise is just not possible because the issues are too important and involve moral principles. Negotiation is dandy for times when you don't agree on how to spend Friday night or which restaurant to patronize. But on issues like abortion vs. carrying the child, only one result can be chosen. And if some miscreant tries to do me harm, I'm not negotiating. Instead, I'm reaching for the nearest anvil (probably my purse) and bopping him on the head (or softer tissue more within the reach of my height-challenged arms), rather than trying to convince him of a win/win position: instead of killing me, he could get what he wants by doing me grievous bodily harm.

We do our children no favors by constantly indoctrinating them with this drivel. Baby Boomers grew up with cartoon violence, and most of us don't order explosives from ACME catalogs. We learned to share when we are faced with a compelling need, and we do, on occasion, negotiate and compromise. All the same, I think I'll stock up on Looney Tunes DVDs for my grandkids.

Random Observations

2008-07-09T17:45:00.003-05:00

I saw a dead armadillo on the road near my house this morning. I didn’t think they were supposed to come this far north because our winters are too cold for them to survive. Two possibilities: global warming is to blame (but this year is colder than last) or armadillos don’t read maps very well.

If you want to raise your blood pressure, watch The Baby Borrowers. This show attempts to convince teenagers wanting “real life” to start sooner rather than later that waiting might not be a good idea. The show gives pairs of teens real babies and real jobs for a couple of days. After a few days, the babies are given back to their parents and are replaced by toddlers, then teens, then elderly parents.

Weirdly, the girls are the ones who are gung-ho to start families, but the boys do a better job of holding their “families” together. A couple of the girls really needed to be taken aside—before their 5th birthday--and told they were not princesses. But alas, their mommies never disillusioned them, and real life doesn’t allow a great deal of time for pedestal-sitting. These bratty babes really made me want to reach out and touch them—with my pink hairbrush! This show is a Scared Straight for prosti-tots and makes me remember just how difficult it was to take care of small children.

I’m fighting my inner Momzilla with wedding plans. A trip through Michael’s wedding supply aisle plants all sorts of ideas in the mind of a future MOBs (Mother of Bride). Exactly when did goodie bags for wedding guests become a necessity? Do adults really think that just because others receive presents, everyone needs a gift or we’ll damage precious psyches? And are regular M&Ms OK for the favors, or must we order special ones custom imprinted with the initials of the newly-nupted couple? Please, save me from trying to stencil “Amy & B.J.: in love forever” on the aisle cloth!

Empty Nest

2008-06-09T15:43:00.003-05:00

There was a brouhaha over my head this morning as I took my walk. As I left the driveway, I heard a commotion just up the street, cutting into my “happy time” with my iPod. Birdsong is the normal accompaniment to any stroll in our neighborhood, usually enhancing my prerecorded music. But what I heard was not birdsong. The starlings were clearly in an uproar.

I looked up to see a flock of starlings chasing a larger bird from the yard of #12 to the oak tree of #15. The oak leaves shook with the turmoil, and then the chase was on again, this time toward the woods. No doubt the larger bird, which could have been a small hawk, had absconded with a young starling. The flock, alerted too late, could only give chase and voice its outrage. By the time the avian army arrived, the brief battle was probably over. All the birds could do was give chase and hope the predator would relinquish its grip so the victim could have a decent birdie burial.

As I walked past the Oak Tree of Certain Death on my next lap around the circle, I realized that even the mourning chirps had ceased. There was no sign of the battle that had raged just a few minutes before.

I could draw lots of lessons from this tragic scene, but somehow the forlorn chirping of the starlings after the lost battle reminded me that my own empty nest looms on the horizon. However, my nest will not empty tragically. In 14 months, give or take 1 or 2, the last two of our kids will leave home. Daughter #1 will move out on her own (I’m resisting comparing the young man in her life to the hawk), and we’ll help Daughter #2 explore the wonders of college dormitory living. Am I sad? A little, but such is the natural order of things. Soon after the girls leave, their dad and I will find our new normal, and life will go on. Actually, we’re looking forward to it.

Now, on to summer!

2008-05-19T11:27:00.000-05:00

My daughter has now finished her college education and is in the process of moving back home for an indefinite stay. Because she's an engineer, she had multiple job offers and chose one close to home. Her graduation ceremony offered some interesting contrasts with ceremonies at other institutions, particularly the one where I teach. Here, graduations are mostly dignified ceremonies, with lots of prayers and a sermon. No one would dream of writing anything on his cap, and no one could see it anyway; we don't have to use bleachers to seat the crowd. Graduates sedately process in, receive their diplomas, shake hands, process out, and go eat cake in the cafeteria. (Cafeteria food will, indeed, harm the waistline.)

At the public university my daughter attended, the circus music the wind ensemble played provided our first clue as to what sort of ceremony she would have. The graduates processed in, more or less in orderly fashion, but students in the ROTC programs wore combat helmets instead of mortarboards, and the new mining engineers wore mining headgear. The nuclear engineers had attached yellow paper with the radiation symbol to the tops of their mortarboards, and a few students had creatively embellished the tops of their caps for the pleasure (or mortification) of the viewing audience. The faculty followed the graduates in, but apparently graduation attendance is not mandatory for faculty, since there were only a few faculty members present.

The chancellor spoke the usual greetings with unusual poise, considering the beach balls that were volleyed about by his soon-to-be former students. The balls were quickly followed by a large inflatable sheep baa-ing her way over the heads of the graduates. My dear daughter, who was raised to respect formal occasions, managed to get her hands on the inflatable toys and deflate them. The sheep suffered a laryngectomy before her deflation (and yes, the sheep was female; it had been purchased at a Store of Ill Repute.) Eventually, speakers spoke, graduates were recognized, diploma covers were handed out, pictures were taken, goodbyes were said.

But for both groups of graduates, the hard part awaits. Book learning may be over, but the education is really just beginning. Former scholars will discover that much of what they need to know is not contained in books and must be learned on the job, where bosses will control the next paycheck. New friends will be necessary, for the friends of the last four or five years have scattered. Real life will begin, without the comfort of knowing that unpleasant tasks are only 16 weeks long. Many will find that adulthood is fraught more with responsibilities than pleasures. This last revelation will be a surprise, but not entirely an unpleasant one.

So one more chapter ends, and another can't wait to get started.

The End

2008-05-14T09:47:00.000-05:00

The last final has been given, and the papers are almost all graded, except for the obligatory student who "forgot" to bring his final paper to the final (10% late penalty). It's getting quiet around here again, so it's time to reflect on how the year went.

Some students don't belong in college, and those were pretty much the ones we had doubts about last August. Note for next year: if the admissions team questions whether or not to admit a student, deny admission. That would have saved us grief and wasted time trying to rescue those who don't yet want to be rescued.
Some students will pleasantly surprise you. Kids you thought were unlikeable will turn out to be your favorites. Some kids who initially look unprepared may be the most motivated kids you teach.
Cafeteria food will make you fat. Bring your lunch.
Choose teaching assistants wisely. They can develop romances with your daughter and hang around long after the year is over (and we're happy about that!)
Listen to advice. That means advices from colleagues, superiors, and your students. Even poor students may have valuable insights on what would motivate them and what might make you a better teacher.
Buy plenty of tea. Nothing is as good for a kid whose girlfriend has just ditched him as a cup of tea and a listening ear.
Thank the Lord for small victories, because they will add up to big ones.

I will miss graduation this year because my own daughter is graduating from college. The first night class I had here will get their associate's degrees. I am proud of them, because they had been denied admission until I could teach remedial classes for them. Most of them have remained, and they've done well.

So here's to next week full of meetings and then a summer of quiet with time for reading and writing. Y'all keep safe, and we'll be ready for August!

One Tough Week

2008-04-13T20:22:00.000-05:00

My week started with an every-ten-year visit from the college's accrediting association. We have worked hard over the last 9 months on the self-study to make sure that we found everything that might need improvement on our campus, from increasing graduation rates to equalizing teaching loads. While the validation team was cordial to us, we all know that the immediate future of our institution depends on the findings. We had several instructions for the first part of the week--stay in our offices, be ready to answer questions, and dress up. For months, I had planned to do a dance of joy around noon on Wednesday as I glimpsed the taillights of the van taking the validation team back to the airport, eagerly anticipate being able to go to work Thursday in jeans and a polo shirt.

Instead, suddenly the validation team's importance faded. My husband phoned just as I was ready to walk out the door to work on Wednesday morning with the news that a friend had died. He was one of my husband's running buddies, our pastoral care minister, and the son of our dearly loved, elderly senior minister. Mike just dropped dead while trying to get a little exercise on the treadmill. And no, this was not a case of an old, out-of-shape guy pushing himself. Mike was in pretty good shape and exercised regularly.

When anyone close to you dies, you tend to become philosophical. You are especially philosophical when the newly departed is close to your own age. So I began to wonder how I would spend my last day. Mike didn't have the luxury of choosing how he would end his life; nor will I. He got up Tuesday, went to the office and was apparently more himself than he usually was--a real cut-up. He joked with the staff and threw things (probably candy) at the secretaries. He went home, ate a good dinner, made some hospital calls, ate some more, then went downstairs to exercise. Then he met Jesus.

I'm not sure how I would choose to spend my last day. Probably I would choose to do just what Mike did: go to work, spend time with my family, take a little time for myself. Mike had an ordinary day. From all reports, an exceptionally good ordinary day. Then it turned out to be the best day of his life--he realized his reward.

The rest of the week for the rest of us meant that we dealt with the aftermath. There is a pretty big hole in our lives, but a much bigger hole in the lives of our friends. The funeral service was sad, but funny--just like Mike. I played the piano and a couple of Mike's friends sang. They were great to play for, and I hope Mike would have liked it (I surely did!). Our church pulled together and functioned like the family it is supposed to be. Everyone took extra care of everyone else. The building was full of people hugging, finally remembering to tell each other how much they are loved. It was beautiful.

The weekend church services had been arranged for some time. A guest preacher had been invited, the sermon topic and special music chosen. God, of course, foreknew that our large church family would be in desperate need of hope and comfort, and the guest preacher just felt led--a month ago--to prepare a sermon on heaven. He was marvelous, just what we needed. So after a tough week, this one has started off pretty well.

Here's to ordinary days. And--I love you.

Christmas? Already? And why do you ask me theological questions?

2007-11-29T12:50:00.000-06:00

We are on a Christmas decorating binge here on campus. We figure that Christmas is our holiday, so we should absolutely celebrate it to the utmost. I've scrounged my house and bought out Walgreens, but the learning center is decorated with a tree, my Christmas village, and strings of extra lights. My office sports a little tree, and my bookcases and door are adorned with lighted garlands. The candle warmer has a Christmas-smelling candle perfuming the air, and Christmas music is on my iPod.

It's good to remember that in the midst of budget cuts, finals, and deadlines, Christ should still be pre-eminent in our thinking. A student came to me yesterday to ask my thoughts on John 1:1-5. This was a bit of a surprise, since I am the English prof. and not one of the great theological minds around here. Fortunately, I've been studying the book of John so I had some thoughts to share with him.

One overwhelming thought I've had is just how difficult life was for Jesus. He epitomized the "No good deed goes unpunished" philosophy; every time he performed a miracle, critics questioned him. Most of the time they were willing to accept what Christ did, but they questioned everything else: his authority, his training, his lineage, and even his timing. I have been struck by just how bleak Christ's day-to-day life was, but yet he still chose to endure life on earth to save the very humans who constantly criticized and persecuted him.

So, as we endure minor hardships, let us not complain that our lunch prices have gone up or we have to work a little harder. What we face is trivial compared to Christ's trials, and even if our lives were smooth, they would still not compare to what awaits us.

Here's to celebrating Christ's coming!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2007-11-20T13:58:00.000-06:00

I am soooo ready for Thanksgiving. All those freshmen: they're just as disillusioned as I predicted. They're also demanding, maddening--and sweet. Dealing with them on a daily basis is exhausting, but it is, indeed, a labor of love.

This afternoon I will give my Comp. I class the task of selecting at least 5 "little" things they are grateful for. I got this idea from Joe Holleman's column in today's Post-Dispatch about things he enjoys. So, for the record, here's my list:

iPods: Music customizable to your own tastes. I know it's selfish, but I can have whatever music fits my mood, with none of the stuff that irritates me, like distorted electric guitars, commercials, and singers who can't carry a tune.
Tea: It makes everything better. It soothes, warms, and flavors most of my early mornings and late afternoons.
Wireless internet: How did our family communicate before instant messaging? It's pretty amusing to see 3 or 4 people in our family room, all typing to one another on laptops. Sad, isn't it? But convenient, too.
Friends who know when you need prayer: Thank God for their tender hearts.
Freshly tuned pianos: They make me want to practice. And the highs sound like bells--delicious!
Scented candles: I really should have been Catholic, with my love for candles and incense. I don't know of a more homey feel to a place than a good smell.
Fall leaves: Even if they're squished all over wet streets, I am constantly amazed that God used such an imagination in creating all the variations in pigments.
Students who smile when they serve your lunch: Even if lunch ticket prices are going up 150% next week, just seeing happy faces makes cafeteria food feel like a banquet.
Quiet offices: Solitude helps me think.
Dogs on my lap: Nothing like unconditional love, at least when they leave each other alone. As we move along toward winter, doggies on the lap also keep you warm.

Have a super holiday, and make your own list.

10, 9, 8, 7, ...

2007-08-17T09:29:00.000-05:00

It's almost here--freshmen move-in day. Oh, yes, we are excited, but the excitement is tinged with sadness because we know what's coming. We know the disillusionment when the realization sets in that college is still school, not 24/7 church camp. We know some students will show up in pink undies and T-shirts because they were trying to save money doing the laundry. They will find out that dorm food is not the all-you-can-eat gourmet fare they were expecting, nor is the cooking as good as Mom's. They will face learning to live with someone from another family with different ways, they'll get unexpectedly poor grades, they'll have disappointing love relationships, and they'll feel the loneliness of being without family in a new place.

We feel, also, for the parents. At our house, we've been through this 3 times, with 1 more to go. We know now that when kids move to college, you never quite get them back. Sure, they'll come home, but it will be as young adults with their own values--not the semi-obedient children who left. And the child who left will never again think of your house as his home--it's a cherished place to visit. Yes, most of the time, this good-bye is The Big One. And it's long anticipated. Once, college was "someday," then "next year," then "next month," and now, "tomorrow." You wonder if you've taught all the right things.

And in good measure, college success is determined by what went on 10 years before. Did he learn responsibility? How about delayed gratification? Is he frugal with his money? Can he hold his tongue? Self-discipline is essential; students without it struggle until this vital lesson is learned.

So we, the staff at college, wait. Tomorrow afternoon the dorms will be filled, the good-byes will be said, and the baby birds will fly (or be pushed) out of the nest. And it's OK--it's as it should be. For all of us, the separation had to happen in order for us to finish growing up. So--

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1--Here we go!

On Solitude

2007-07-24T16:23:00.000-05:00

In the summer we have a book discussion group at church that meets once a month. One of the ministers chooses a book, we read it, and then meet for lunch and conversation. Each year has a theme--this year's is spiritual development. So we've read A Mind for God by James Emery White and Sacred Pathways by Gary Thomas. Both books are really enlightening, but Sacred Pathways was surprising.

Thomas explained (finally) why some worship experiences leave some worshippers flat and unsatisfied. God has created them to worship him in ways that are unique to the person. He offers several "spiritual temperaments" along with suggestions on how your own temperament can be used to draw you closer to God--or not, if you succumb to temptations peculiar to it.

I had expected to fit the intellectual temperament, which I did. No surprise there, since I love to read, study, and discuss ideas. The tendency to fixate on small truths and argue the fine points of scripture fits too. What was surprising was that I scored almost as high on asceticism. Honestly, I am almost never alone--till now. My new office is in the basement of the college, and not many people venture down here unless they have an appointment. So I can work on my own, in the quiet. Amazing how much I love it.

So if I retreat to my own corner and close the door, I'm not sleeping--I'm worshipping!

Computers Are Our Friends

2007-06-18T17:41:00.000-05:00

I have been reminded all day of how much I would like to be a Luddite. I have just endured the fourth computer glitch in the last 6 hours--one of which I spent at dinner! The latest one will require a phone call to the company that runs the testing software we use, but that's a problem for tomorrow. I really don't have it in me this evening to call up a machine and talk to a person in Bangalore (best case) or yet another computer (by far the worst case scenario).

To be fair, some things are simpler with computers. It's easy to revise a document--assuming the server hasn't crashed and taken the latest draft of said document with it. Documents on computers are more secure--provided that the password you have been provided actually lets you unlock your file. And you can make nifty placards with word processing software and clip art; it would be lovely if the printer recognized your terminal's log-in and printed the sign.

I think I will leave the computer alone the rest of the evening. I'm off to enjoy a really low-tech academic tool--the book.

Y'all have a good evening. May all your glitches be minor ones.

Trinkets: The Rant

2007-04-03T21:39:00.000-05:00

Vacation is over, at least for the time being. Four days are not really long enough to forget the stresses of daily life, but better than nothing. If you go to a tourist spot, though, four days are surely sufficient to contemplate how many ways people have to sell you what you don't want. From billboards to promises of free money if you will just come see a timeshare, one is constantly enticed by glittering junk.

What is behind the urge to acquire still more things? Is it the desire to display our wealth by having more toys than our friends? Will having more stuff make us feel more secure? Yes, T-shirts with cute sayings may catch our eye, but would we really wear them enough to justify their purchase? (And will the messages written across our chests be so embarrassing that we won't wear them outside our houses?) Our refrigerators can only sport just so many magnets, and our present keychains are working fine, thank you. We'd like to think that we can join the jet-setters who own more than one house, but the house we have takes up most of our time and a goodly portion of our salary. We certainly don't need more, and much of the time we don't even want it after we have it.

This tendency to accumulate material possessions has led to a veritable explosion of storage businesses, so we can stash what we have bought but cannot accommodate in our houses. After 50+ years of living, I have come to the realization that unused items create clutter--both in our houses and in our minds. I am no longer feeling guilty about not supporting the American economy if I don't buy something. I've resolved only to buy things I like and will use. Maybe then my kids won't have to sort through the detritus of stuff I've left behind to find the meaningful.

Here's to letting go of the trivial--or not buying it in the first place.

Notes from a Vacation

2007-04-01T21:13:00.000-05:00

It's good to take vacations. Getting away from one's normal routine tends to put daily life into some sort of perspective, especially when you look out your window at mountains that have been here for thousands, if not millions, of years. Spring springing helps, too. So a few questions:

Why does everyone in a tourist town feel the need to eat at the same time? It's as though some celestial alarm clock went off and signaled the Universal Hunger Alarm.
Is there some universal company that controls all businesses in all tourist spots? You may find really neat handcrafted whats-its, and then find "Made in China" stamped on the bottom. And just down the street you can find many more just like them.
Why do ladies of a certain age in resort towns show an affinity for embroidered flashy clothing? When I reach the age of having to wear gold shoes and embroidered sweaters and sequined tops, all at the same time, please send me to my reserved room in Dr. Happy's Home for the Pleasantly Demented.
Why, when people are on vacation, do they find an uncontrollable urge to play miniature golf and drive go-karts?
Does anyone really wear the soft-porn T-shirts so easily found in tourist traps?
Why does the phrase "country gravy" set mouths watering? Would "city gravy" be as tantalizing?

I love vacations. The best ones end with us wishing they would last for just one more day.

Random thoughts...

2005-09-13T20:53:00.000-05:00

Why do large churches have such a difficult time getting people to volunteer? Our Wednesday night youth program needed 45 volunteers, and they only got 15 without begging. Even with begging, we are understaffed. So I volunteered to teach 4th grade boys, and dragged my hubby along with me, as well as a great woman from the choir. She and I will switch off at half-time so I can go to band practice. Frankly, I don't care if the church has to sing with no piano for nine months so long as the kids are taken care of.
There is nothing like flea-bathing a Golden Retriever puppy who loves you to take care of the blues. Adopting out kittens is fun, too. And the cats we got at the Humane Society from the hurricane are really cute.
Butterfly bushes really do attract butterflies. The monarchs are cool!
It's great to go to a Christian music concert where the performers stand up and sing without confessing all their personal failings. We went to a GLAD concert last weekend, and they kept the focus on Christ, not on themselves. Good music, spectacularly performed, and worship was had by all.
Never try to hold a Bible Bowl practice for teenagers after they have been bouncing on inflatable rides. If you do, get help--big, brawny help.

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

2005-08-17T20:07:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the Beatles said it best. The last couple of weeks I've learned how real friends act. They bring you food, they hug you, and they send flowers and cards, even if they know that you know they love you. The outpouring of support has been truly humbling.

Mom's funeral was just what we wanted it to be: some tears, but a lot of laughter and hope. I know that she would have been pleased, except for the bicycle pictures we put on the big screen. She is probably waiting next to St. Peter at the pearly gates, saying, "Don't you let those children in here!"

Seriously, I think we have received every sympathy card Hallmark makes, and enough flowers to clean out several florists. One friend sent a vase of flowers today, after all the other fresh flowers had wilted, just because she wanted to brighten my day.

In the future, I hope I will remember to send cards to people on the prayer list, and I won't worry anymore whether or not I knew the person well enough to attend the funeral. Every person who came reminded us of how loved Mom was and how much we are loved. Maybe this will be Mom's last lesson: to make us all a little less selfish and a little more giving.

Things I Learned From Mom

2005-08-07T22:23:00.000-05:00

My mom died of Alzheimer's disease on Friday. This will be read at her funeral tomorrow. She was a great lady, and I miss her. With Alzheimer's, I have missed her for a long time already...

Love God.
Obey Dad.
Practice. You may not like it, but you have to do it. You’ll thank me later.
If you say you will do something, do it—even if you don’t want to or think you don’t have time.
Regardless of what medicine tells us, children are made of soup. Mom threatened to knock the soup out of us at least once a week.
If your children aren’t getting along in the back seat of the car, it’s sometimes OK to let them work it out themselves. Make sure you have plenty of Kleenexes on hand for them to mop up any blood.
Don’t be afraid to have fun.
Memorize the hymnbook. You never know when you’ll need to know all 5 verses of “Just As I Am”.
Cooking is not rocket science. Sometimes recipe substitutions are successful.
Buy birthday cakes from the bakery if you don’t want your children laughing at you for the next half-century.
Love your husband.
Be hospitable. Entertain often.
Don’t be afraid to use the good dishes.
Enjoy all God’s creations, especially birds and dogs.
Be thankful that God gave us color.
Always look your best.
Wear a smile, even if your feet hurt.
Remember always that you are a LADY!
Treat your parents and your in-laws well.
Study hard, and do your best.
Check all place settings carefully before you serve your guests. Ice cream is best eaten with a spoon, not a butter knife.
When you work, give it your all.
Take lots of pictures. It helps if you label them.
Try new experiences. Eat new foods, climb mountains, raft down a river.
Cheer loudly for the Cardinals.
Play Christmas music all year round, so you can hear your entire collection.
Read lots of magazines. Always have at least two with you at all times. And you can always learn something from National Geographic.
The library is better than a bookstore, and cheaper, too.
Never miss a sale. Those green shoes have to match something. If you find something that fits and looks good, buy two.
Keep your old friends. Make new ones.
A big purse is a necessity, especially when taking popcorn to the Cardinals game. If it will hold the thermos of iced tea also, so much the better.
Memorize scripture.
Take your grandchildren places.
Doing some things cheaply is better than not doing them at all, and sometimes better than the expensive way.
Collect stuff. It gives you an excuse to go shopping.
If you collect stuff, make sure you have a big basement.
Encourage others. Send LOTS of cards.
Make things yourself. Food and clothes are both better homemade.
Remind your children that the important things are people, not things.
Prepare for eternity, because it lasts longer than life on earth.

And Through That Window We Go!

2005-07-20T14:52:00.000-05:00

My new college is great! I am now teaching only adults, and they are ready and eager to learn. It's a very nice change to see people take notes without being prompted, and NO ONE seems hung over. These people are in class because they want to learn, not because it's necessary in order to stay on a parent's insurance. In fact, most of them are sacrificing a lot of money to go to school, as well as tying up every Monday night for the next 3 years.

I'm taking my time adjusting to the new situation. Things that had been done by a secretary are now being done by me. I have no clue where my mailbox is yet, or how to access my campus email, but all in good time. I had to take the library tour with the students; policies are a little different, as are the hours. I have to remember to pray at the beginning of class--that would have been a firing offense at my last job. But my coworkers are very nice, and I have a long history with many of them--longer than with most of my previous coworkers.

God is good. The pain of leaving the community college is easing. I know that God is in control, and that he always has good in mind for those who follow him.

Close a Door, Open a Window

2005-06-15T10:05:00.000-05:00

So I have now left the community college where I have been for the last 11 years. I had vowed not to teach again unless someone called me up and threw the job in my lap--which they did. So I will begin teaching English at a small Christian college next month. This proves:

1. God will take you at your word. I had prayed that his will would be done in my job situation, and if that meant leaving the community college, then that would be fine. I did my best job there, and I don't have any regrets.

2. There is always another challenge right around the corner. This time I will be teaching adult students who should be much more motivated to learn. Smaller classes, too, but I will have to shift my focus from teaching reading to teaching writing.

3. All wounds heal with time. I am not happy that I won't be teaching 18-year-olds anymore, but I'll get over it.

4. If you say you're not in it for the money, it helps to believe it. I will now be making approximately half what the community college paid, so it's time to look at teaching as one of the gifts God gave me to use as he wills. God has always been faithful in the finance area, and I don't expect him to stop blessing us now.

5. No matter what happens with jobs, Christian friends still support you, your husband still loves you, and the pug thinks you hung the moon. 'Nuff said.

Lessons to Be Learned

2005-05-11T10:44:00.000-05:00

Lesson 1: If your teacher assigns a book report and you don't intend to read the book, don't pick a book the teacher read and enjoyed.

Lesson 2: If you are a developmental student, don't write a perfect paper.

Lesson 3: Even if your paper is perfect, don't use words you can't pronounce and can't define.

Lesson 4: Don't cheat off the internet. Google is an amazing tool for finding plagiarism.

Lesson 5: Don't whine when you are caught.

Lesson 6: If you get caught, pray that your teacher takes pity on you and just flunks you instead of giving you the grade for academic dishonesty.

Doing a hard task is its own reward--self-esteem is not given; it is earned.

Valentine's Day, a Little Late

2005-04-29T11:01:00.000-05:00

It's been a rainy, gloomy week here in mid-America, with lots of pre-finals stress. But on Tuesday there were young women walking around on campus carrying long-stemmed roses. One young lady said there was a young man in the cafeteria who had bought an armload of roses, and he was giving them out to every girl he saw. The girl who talked to me didn't even know the fellow's name.

For a few minutes, the last-minute gotta-get-it-done stress eased, and there were smiles, wondering what kind of young man would take the time to bring joy into his anonymous classmates' days. I hope he realized that he gave a smile to everybody, not just the lucky young women he gifted with flowers.

Take time to do something unexpected, and good.

The Kids Are Going to Be OK

2005-04-18T22:29:00.000-05:00

We had Karaoke for the students last week during Spring Fling. Most of the performances were not remarkable, and Simon from American Idol would have been most unkind. Still, it takes some self-confidence to sing into a mike in front of one's peers, and I didn't hear anyone jeering even the most awful performances. One fellow, though, was notable.

Our campus has some developmentally delayed high school students who come in and help in the library from time to time. The college students mostly take no notice of them, since there is nothing unusual about seeing them. However, one of these young men who happened to have Down's Syndrome decided to take the microphone and sing that 'NSync hit, "Bye, Bye, Bye." He was too shy to stand up on the stage, and so sang sitting down, so that you had to look closely to see who was performing. As the introduction began, I heard rhythmic clapping that began and grew, until I looked around to see what was going on. The young man was singing, and the conversation in the cafeteria had almost stopped. Students were looking at him, and rooting for him to do well. Honestly, he was one of the best performances of the day, but the encouragement in the room was almost palpable. When he finished, there was applause, which was missing for most of the "normal" college students' numbers.

I was very proud that the students took the time to cheer for a young man who has more challenges to face than most people. His instructor told me that he was very shy, and that this karaoke performance was a really big step for him.

Sometimes young people do the right thing all by themselves.

And this is the thanks I get

2005-04-14T17:58:00.000-05:00

I went to school yesterday after rushing around here trying to get some things done before I got to work. As I was walking into the cafeteria, I looked down and noticed that I was wearing 1 each of 2 different kinds of tennis shoes. (Both white and blue, at least) This was a precursor of bad things to come.

It was Spring Fling, and all clubs are expected to have a table manned, with give-aways, or at least things to sell. My table, Campus Crusade for Christ, had some books, CDs, baseball cards, and general information to hand out to anyone who was interested. I had been there maybe 15 minutes when a man walked up, and looked at our Campus Crusade sign (8 1/2x 11, green, with the name of the club) and said, "Campus Crusade...isn't that an oxymoron?" Being an English professor, I know an oxymoron when I see it, and it sure wasn't the sign. This fellow proceeded, for the next hour or so, to accuse us, as Christians of everything from child abuse, threatening Terri Schiavo judges, abortion clinic bombings, the war in Iraq, cutting Medicaid, teaching creationism in schools, global warming, and the election of George Bush. (No wonder I'm so tired--in only 50 years, that's a lot to accomplish.) Mostly, I let the campus minister deal with him, while I continued to deal with various students and their problems, chat with the Gay/Lesbian club, and greet other professors.

This fellow, a music professor, went on to say that he would know a real Christian by what he saw them do. Finally, I had had all my little Irish heart could take. I lit into him, and told him that for the last hour I had listened to him accuse Christians, and me personally, of all sorts of crimes, and that wasn't reasonable, seeing as how he had never met me. I then went on to ask him how many students had come to him and even greeted him in the past hour (none), and where he was when I was counseling at least 2 students with various problems, and if he realized that there was one student graduating this semester who wouldn't have even attended college had I not enrolled him, got him grants and a job and provided transportation! I told him that he didn't know me, or that I had worked food pantries and homes for battered women, and even volunteered one day a week at the Humane Society. Having no rebuttal to that, he then accused me of voting for George Bush (obviously, the most evil thing one can do in his world). I retorted that who I voted for was none of his business, and I wasn't going to tell him. Again, I reiterated that he didn't know me, and that by using his own logic, I could accuse him of being guilty of encouraging rapes, school shootings, suicides, and the murder of policemen, since he was a musician and some rap songs have those themes. He began wagging his pointer finger at me and going on about the Evils of Republican Christians. I said, "Do NOT point at me" and gave him THE LOOK. He retreated somewhat, and then decided that, since I was a Christian, I must certainly be against evolution, in favor of going back to the scientific middle ages, and stated that no scientist believed that God created the world.

And there I had him. I said, "Well, my son holds a Ph.D. in nanotechnology from the UMinn, ran their electron microscopy lab, and now researches alloys to go into the defibrillator that will resuscitate you when your blood pressure climbs too high. And he not only believes in creation, he can probably name you a dozen other scientists who aren't evolutionists, either." I helpfully spelled my son's name and suggested that he "google" him so that he could see that my son is, indeed a multiply-published scientist.Then he accused me of not believing in global warming. This was the coldest day we had had in a couple of weeks, so I told him that wasn't really a good time to make that accusation, and then I decided that it was time to invoke the Holy Grail of Academia--I told him that I was personally offended by his comments, especially since he hadn't made my acquaintance until the hour before. He said that he wouldn't apologize, and believed that a college was where we should be able to discuss any matters. I told him that I agreed with him, but I was still offended by his accusations. (And since he doesn't know me, he also doesn't know that I have lunch with his own department head once a week.) I encouraged him to hurry off to his class, and secretly prayed that he would have to spend the next hour explaining why Bach wrote "to God's glory" on all his compositions.

So today, I sent him a lovely card (handmade, with my stamps) and thanked him for the discussion and said I hoped he hadn't taken offense, and that I was looking forward to working with him.

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar...