I’m Going Home

I am heading for home. In every sense, because Monday night I am getting on the plane and flying into Northern Kentucky where I’ll get in a car and head to my mom’s house. So I really am going home. What am I looking forward to there? Well, duh… being home!!! Even though the house in Walton, Kentucky is not where I grew up or ever lived, it has my mom and that’s enough to make it home. And it has all my “mom” stuff that makes it look and smell like home. All those touches that are stored up on my memory banks, that make every house she has lived in be my home too. So I can hardly wait to hug her neck and throw myself on her couch and talk to her, my sister, brother in law and my nephew. Then, a couple of days later see my other sister and my niece and complete the circle of catching up. That’s what I’m looking forward to.

Now there are other little benefits I’ll experience, but they really are just “gravy”, because I would be excited about being home, even if all this stuff wasn’t part of the package. Lucky for me they are. What are those things?

Cool weather. Fall. Still a few leaves turning colors and falling. I love fall. Pumpkins and cranberries.

Driving an automatic transmission car in a relatively small place where the expected attitude is that of obedience to traffic laws. Ah……the little things of life.

Quiet. Dark. The silence of where Mom lives, as well as total darkness at night. Not waking to hear hammers over my head (my neighbors are remodeling right now).

Being me. Yip, my family knows me and loves me. I don’t have an image to keep up. I can just be me – not even having to wear make up, do my hair or wear decent clothes.

Getting my new Kindle up and running and READING lots of new books under the covers late at night.

Visiting Starbucks Coffee. (Yes we have them here, but not all the good flavors and ridiculously expensive – even my Starbuck’s standards!)Ah… Pumpkin Spice Coffee. I can taste it already.

Shopping. (I’ll not elaborate on that, nor mention all the stores I enjoy.)

Talking in English. Speaking “Smithese”, which is my family’s brand of shorthand, fill in the blanks, interruptions,  amd hoosier expressions that is our unique way of talking.

Eating out. Restaurants with a different variety of food than I have here. Restaurants where you don’t have to yell to carry on a conversation.

Did I mention I LOVE my family and can hardly wait to see them? While I’m home we’ll do my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas all wrapped up in one. We may eat too much, talk too much and spend too much, but we never love each other too much!

Sissy the Carpenter

Sissy the Carpenter

Today we finally got around to getting another bookshelf for João’s books that seem to be stacking up everywhere around the house, threatening to run us out of house and home. While at the store, we also picked up a bookshelf for Sissy. Since none of us are handy with a screwdriver, nails, or a hammer, we asked about them assembling them. The delivery and assembly charge was just ridiculous and they just kept assuring us of how easy it was. So to save $80, we stuffed it all into our car (I almost had to ride home on the roof), drug it all upstairs and then told Sissy she would have to put together her own bookshelf. She looked slightly panicked for a minute and then started opening the box. I separated the material for her and we figured out what the assembly would be. She was nervous about the hammering at first, but with a few pointers, she quickly got the hang of it and was assembling her very own furniture. She was totally successful as you can see by the photos. I thought you might get a kick out of seeing her work, although you might not understand all of our conversation. As you can see, the finished product turned out perfectly, as she is a careful, thorough worker, very different from me. I think quick, careless and dangerous might possibly describe my carpenter skills. Our biggest disappointment of the night was being unable to put together João’s new bookshelves as we somehow managed to get home without any of the screws to put it together and the store had closed by the time we realized that tiny little detail. Oh well, something to look forward to for tomorrow. ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Cactus in Rio

We have this cactus. What kind I don’t know, for I am no botanist. We acquired it when João was visiting a family and admired their cactus. They snapped off a piece and he brought it home and planted it the planter where my very dead palm had been. Since it’s a cactus I sort of ignored it and it stayed small. Then one day João planted a watermelon seed and it started growing. So I began watering it. Lo and behold the cactus took off growing (it starting growing about where you see the nick on the left side of the larger arm). And it grew fast for about a year or so. Then around the time of our vacation, it just stopped growing. It got a little mushy on the top and all brown and ugly. I thought it was going to die. Then about a month ago, these little yellow flowers appeared and gradually fell off. Two weeks ago we went away for a week, and upon returning, what had happened? The crazy cactus had grown, a lot! To top it off, it had put off two side arms and all these shoots on the top. All of the light green growth you see has been in the last two weeks. It almost seems like I can see it growing. It’s incredible. The only change I made was pushing it over to the corner of the balcony where it gets rain and southerly sun. ONLY… as if that was a small thing. Although it’s in a planter, it still likes being closer to more natural growing conditions.

Things just grow better with sun and rain. In a very loose analogy, I might add that I too grow better close to my natural growing conditions. This weekend, through a conference speaker at our church, I began to think about the whole process of sanctification – of spiritual growth. About real worship being worship that transforms, impacts, takes root in your life so that you might become saintly. I realized that I need even more of God’s Word and of prayer – my version of sun and rain. I have been a believer for 50 years and I am still so teeny tiny. So I guess I just keep trying to shove myself over closer to the source of life and maybe I’ll green up some, produce some flowers and others will see my growth. I crave that in my life.

P.S. My ever so patient sister scrolled through pages on cacti, to learn that this kind is a Cereus Jamacuru, or Mandacarú here in Brazil. Cool.

Bible Translation

I guess we all want to have heroes, but actually for the most part we don’t ever get to meet or know “real” heroes. Last night I had that very rare opportunity. Missionaries Guenther and Wanda Krieger spoke at our church. They have been missionaries with the Xerente Indians for 50 years now. They are both brilliant people and have poured out their lives in sharing the gospel with the people to whom God has called them. If that doesn’t make them heroes, what does?  And faithful they have been, as they have seen a tribe nearly decimated (around 400 people), be restored to strength (now over 2000) and be transformed by the Good News. They have totally invested in translating the Bible into the language of their people, which first meant writing the language! They have used these fifty years to learn the language and culture and be able to totally translate the “Word Given By the Supreme Creator” (as the Bible is called in Xerente). The New Testament has now been published.

They brought with them a copy of the Word of God that you see on the right. I felt I had the most precious thing I had ever seen in my life. Fifty years of love for God and his people.  I love the story he told about translating the flight of Mary, Joseph and Jesus, in that he translated the verb, “fled”,  in the plural. His consultant (one of his converts), told him it was conjugated wrong, since their language uses one conjugation for plurals and another for when there is one person and yet another when there are but two. The consultant told him that only Mary and Joseph fled, for Jesus was a baby and he was “taken” on the journey, but was not actively involved in the process. Fabulous! Years and years of tedious work to make sure it was accurate according to the Greek and Aramaic, and also to show it communicated accurately in Xerente. Wanda, his wife, (in the pink dress in the photo to the right) explained that the women have no rights at all and when she began to teach them read, the men told them they would never learn. They did, of course, since women usually have strong language/verbal skills and now the women read the Bible, out loud, in the worship services. I could have listened to their stories for hours as I sat enthralled. I drew a quick and dirty sketch of Guenther, which João says probably resembles someone somewhere, just not Pastor Guenther. Ha!

I am grateful to have met this wonderful couple. I am inspired by their lives. I am in awe of how God has used them. They are my heroes. Real heroes of faith. THEY deserve the Nobel prize, for they have sought to bring peace on earth where they live.

Friends!

Don’t you love being with friends? Old friends or new friends, it’s just great! Yesterday, October 12, was children’s day here in Brazil, in addition to being a catholic holiday, so we had the day off. João and I took advantage of that to drive over the mountain to the Barra and take Hilda Cowsert out for lunch. She and her husband were my supervisors (read: mentors) when I first got to Brazil. They did so much for me and made a huge difference in my life and ministry. Her daughter is a missionary here in Brazil and so she was in town visiting her daughter, since she is now retired and living in Florida. She came to our church Sunday night and I was so excited to see her. It was even better to be able to go out to lunch and have a good time of talking and catching up. She is still, at 81, so active in ministry! What a blessing in my own life and the lives of so many others. It was a great treat to be with her.

I am still enjoying the memories of last week and the conference. I am only sad because somehow I lost or misplaced all my notes and my ‘wonderful’ ideas for my blog. I am sure they would have been insightful entries, but alas I simply cannot remember them. I remember vaguely, but I confess that my ideas are of a very ephemeral nature, so that if I don’t jot them down, the essence flies out of my head like the fur falls off of Mia. Fortunately we ordered a CD of the messages and when I listen to them again, perhaps my ideas will be restored to me.

At any rate, what I really wanted to focus on here was the joy of being with friends at the conference. At the photo on the right (above) you can see Marilene, Gabi (my art teacher), and Bia (Mari’s daughter) at a park in Águas de Lindoia. I stayed right next door to Marilene at the hotel, so we had a nice chance to talk at the meals, visit the pool together and do some shopping.  To the left is photo of João and me with Roberta and Joel. Roberta studied art with me last year. Her husband is a Presbyterian pastor and although we are actually neighbors we never see one another. Surprisingly on the trip (eight hours) down to the conference we ran into each other at lunch and also at a gas station along the way. We joked that it was predestined for us to be together, since it turned out we were also in the same hotel. We ended up spending a lot of time together and getting to know one another. They are good friends’ of Marilene and Franklin and that made for some extra special community time. As you can see on the photo on the right (taken by Bia, who always seemed to have the best ideas for photo ops), we joked and laughed a lot around the table. That was good for us. Sometimes we get into a rut, and there is NO time to be with people outside our own church, so this was a great blessing. One of my constant struggles here in Rio is to make friends and to make time to be with friends. It’s easy to get so wrapped up in everything there is to do and forget about “be-friending”. I hope last week serves as a reminder to me of how important that is. Friends don’t just happen. You have “work” at being a friend. But it is fun work.

It’s a Done Deal

No thanks to you who didn’t share your opinion (with the notable exception of Elly!), I have made a decision about buying a Kindle. I am glad I waited on deciding. Guess what? The price was lowered again. And this time to sweeten the deal, they have launched an international edition. Yes, those of us poor slobs who live outside the US can now have access to the wireless network to immediately download the books. Do I hear a woo-who???? Someone? Anyone????

It is currently on pre-order status, but should be available by October 19th. Since I don’t arrive for another couple of weeks in the US, I have already preordered, so as now to lose out on this chance. For sure, this will be very popular. I don’t know what date it was first advertised, so I don’t know if I am far down on the waiting list, but I hope not too far. I am so excited. Are you excited for me too?

Home Again

It’s been a week since I’ve written, but what a week! I absolutely will NOT bore you with all the details, but now that I am home again and trying to settle back into a routine I thought I would say hi and fill you in on where I’ve been.

This week João and I have been in Águas de Lindoia in the state of São Paulo, roughly eight hours from Rio (by car) attending a theological conference. It was a terrific week. The speakers were great. Later this week, I hope to find some time to write some articles about some thoughts I had on what I heard. D.A. Carson (a Canadian who lives near Chicago) and Mark Dever (an American who lives in DC) were the main speakers, so it was a treat for me to hear English!

On the lighter side, look at my treats I got for my birthday. An orchid, a bromeliad (my very first in my life), and a fruit basket. It was nice to arrive home and find these treats. Actually, though, the bromeliad was waiting for me in my hotel room and I brought it home! In addition, one afternoon we drove over to a little town with a porcelain factory. About 26 years ago I had gone there and bought a pitcher I just loved. When I went to Canada, I sold it and had always been sorry, since I loved the pitcher. Anyway, we found the factory and I replaced my pitcher. João, generous as he is, also got me a teapot, cereal bowls and a vinegar and oil set. I just loved the blue and white dishes. They are artisan, so no two pieces are absolutely identical. If I ever go back there, I may decide to get a complete set of dishes. The the public square, there is a natural fount (this area is famous for the mineral water) flowing through this porcelain water bottle. The town is famous for these dishes.

While the conference was the main attraction, I just loved being there right next to Marilene in the hotel, as well as meeting up with my friend Roberta from my art classes and getting to know her husband. Everyday at meal time we all had lots to talk about and there was so much laughter. By the way, food was very good (and included with the hotel), so we all ate way too much – then spent the rest of the day sitting around listening to lectures. Not good for the waistline. Near our hotel was a “water” center, with the “radioactive” water for health treatments, as well as a natural mineral water spring, so one day we had to visit there and you can see Joel (Roberta’s husband) checking out the water. My friend Gabi (art teacher) was also there, but working so we didn’t have time together, except for a short time shopping and visiting a park.

It was a lovely little town tucked away in the mountains. We thoroughly enjoyed our time together there. It was hot when we arrived, but then it began raining and it was quite chilly. I ended up buying a red sweater, as the region is well known for the knits, that are really very inexpensive.  João, of course, brought home a trunkload of new books from the conference. Well… that’s an exaggeration, he only bought ten new books! But two of them are encyclopedias!

As you can tell, a good time was had by all, but as always, it’s also good to be home. We hit really horrible traffic as we arrived in Rio. since it’s a long holiday weekend. It took us two hours to travel 10 kilometers. Trust me, when I say our apartment surely looked grand to us when we got home.

Help me, I can’t help myself

Temptation is overcoming me. In fact, my whole problem really is I am not sure if it’s an opportunity or a temptation.  Those who know me, know that at least for my age I am a gadget geek. I love computers, mp3, digital cameras, etc. If it has blinking lights and something I can click on, I like it. Electronic books, however, never quite appealed to me. Unlike most people, however, I am not addicted to the smell, sound or feel of a book, but I do love reading a book. I like its portability. I like the possibility of being able to flip it open at random. I like being able to underline. I like being able to dog ear pages (yes, I know that’s a sacrilege to some folks) and also to be able to be open to two pages at once, glancing back at forth.

When Kindle was announced, I was skeptic. The more I began to “read”(what else would I do, being the reader I am?) on the subject, the interested I became. When we go on vacation we usually haul two boxes of books for our reading. In one small Kindle I could have 2000 books with me. When I have a hankering to read a book in English, I often have to wait 6 months or so, unless I have it shipped to me, paying an arm and leg and still having to wait a month. The very thought of wanting a book, ordering it online and having it in hand within minutes is very appealing to me. (I know that in Brazil I wouldn’t have access to the Whispernet, but I could download them my computer and then transfer them to the Kindle). I already have dozens of “free” books on my computer (classics that are in the public domain). I read them on my computer, but hauling around my laptop is not always so much fun. Everyone says the Kindle really feels like a book in your hand, and you can carry it so conveniently everywhere you go.

However, I resisted the price of $299. That’s a lot of money. You can buy a netbook for that much money. This week, however, the price of a refurbished Kindle 1 dropped to $149 and of a Kindle2 dropped to $219. That’s a pretty big price drop. From my research, I believe I really want a Kindle 2, mainly because the resolution is so much higher and some other features as well. So I put one in my shopping cart on Amazon. (I’ll be in the US in about a month, so I will have my purchase waiting for me when I get there.) My rule of thumb is always to wait 24 hours before closing a deal on Amazon, so that I avoid impulse buying.

So that’s my temptation. Do I spend that much money? Which, will lead, of course, to spending more money, for certainly I will buy more books! My dilemma really is if I am being a pawn in the hand of the merchandisers who have convinced me I need something I don’t really need, or if this will be a useful tool in my life. So “whattal” I do? While I am undecided, I will do nothing (and hopefully they won’t sell out of them – or maybe they will and that will settle the issue). What do you think?

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy

Because Sundays are “action-packed” for me, I try to leave things pretty organized on Saturday – from leaving the kitchen table set for breakfast to having all our clothes laid out, including “accessories”.  After I was pretty much ready, I put on (or rather tried to put on) my necklace I had chosen to wear. I had untangled it from another necklace the night before since I had dropped the jewelry box and there had been a gold chain collision. When I tried to put on the necklace, it was all tangled. I don’t know how that happened, as I had tried it on the night before and it was fine. But now it was a mess. As it is a very delicate 18k chain, I had to take it easy. When it didn’t untangle easily, I should have just quit and worn something else. But no, I am stubborn, so I went from the bathroom to the bedroom, where there is more light. Off went the glasses so I could see a little better, but the more I worked, the more tangled it seemed to grow. Is there some kind of jewelry tangler gremlin out there? I was quickly on the way to becoming extremely grumpy. While I eventually got it straightened out (although I was all sweaty and irritated in the process), I started thinking about all the things that “make” me grumpy. Do you have a list? Maybe it’s best not to sit down and think too much about such things, but I suspect all of have little things that push our “grumpy” buttons.

Here’s a list of some of my grumpy stuff:

1. People who take the last of anything (last roll of toilet paper, or carton of milk) and don’t replace it (like putting more milk in the fridge or more paper on the roll).

2. People in the grocery store check out (where you have already stood waiting for 30 minutes), who calmly place everything in their cart when the clerk has finished ringing everything up, and then and only then begin looking (very slowly) for their checkbook, or credit card, while I have to wait to begin my checkout. It’s not like it’s a surprise they have to pay.

3. People who want to talk to me, but insist that I drop what I am doing to go over to them. Why can’t they come to me if it’s in their interest?

4. Slow, slow internet connection, especially since I’m paying over $100 a month for the fastest rate possible.

5. Telephones ringing. Any telephone anywhere. But it’s especially irritating when I take the time to go to a store or bank and have stood in line a long time, and then the person who is at home calls and the clerk takes the phone call before helping me who has been waiting.

6. People who call me on the telephone and greet me by saying “Who is this?” I mean if they don’t know who they are calling, why are they calling?

7. Screaming children in public places and parents who do nothing about them.

8. Plastic containers (like tupperware) and their lids in my cabinets. What a mess. They always come tumbling out and I can hardly ever identify what lid goes with what container.

9. Messy bathroom sinks, or water splashed around the mirrors. How much time does it take to dry it off with a towel?

10. My cat (or any cat) kneading me when he/she needs the claws cut. Makes my skin crawl.

11. Anyone tapping on my shoulder, digging the hands into my ribs, etc. to get my attention. For that matter, people who hardly know me, who are all touchy/feely.

12. Emails with powerpoint attachments that say “This is so beautiful”, “this is useful”, etc. especially when I get the same one 4 or 5 times. Or for that matter, emails that pass along dubious or false information that the sender didn’t bother to check out.

13. Banging my head, toes, knees, shin, etc. on furniture.

And that’s all I can think of off the top of my head. I must be a very grumpy person. This has made me think, how very easily irritated I really am. I also realize I need to pray more about demonstrating the fruit of the spirit. And recite regularly, “Do all things without murmurings and disputings” – Phillipians 2:14.

And you, what turns you into Oscar the Grouch?

Paying the Price for Health

As I was reading about the demon possessed man from Gerasenes (Luke 8), I was particularly impressed by the fact that after the man was restored to his right mind, healed in mind and body (what a blessing!), his neighbors and friends begged Jesus to leave. They were terrified by what he had done (I imagine that it didn’t help that a herd of pigs went rushing headlong over a steep bank) in healing the man. If you had asked them, beforehand, if they wanted to see the man cured, I am sure they would have all said yes. However, they wanted that to happen without any sacrifice, any shocking things happening, without any rocking of the boat.

I can testify to the fact, that I too would love to have perfect health without seeing any doctors or taking any meds. I went to the eye doctor last week for my annual check up. She decided it was time for me to do some more serious testing on my eyes, due to my pressure being at the upper limits of normal (which has been the case for many years now). So I left her office with a ream of papers to set up appointments for a field of vision test, retinal mapping, pachimetry, and retinography. A half an hour later, I have all the exams set up. Not just for me, but for João as well, for he also has high pressure. And being Rio de Janeiro, can’t do it all in one place with one doctor on one day. So we have a slew of appointments set up to check out our eye health. I should be happy my doctor cares, that my health insurance pays the exam, that I live in a place that affords  me the opportunity to have this done. Ask me if that’s what I am thinking about? I am thinking about all the hours of my life that are going down the hole while I wait for these exams. I am thinking about the headache I’ll have afterwards (those drops for dilating my eyes always give me a skull busting headache). Oh joy…

You see, I just don’t want to pay the price. I don’t want to be inconvenienced. I don’t want my boat rocked. I don’t like going to doctors under any circumstances, much less going knowing I’ll have tons of tests that will require lots of time. And that, my friends, in my estimation, is the problem with most of our churches. We have lots of spiritual sickness, but we just want our status quo. We long to have a wonderful, healthy church, but we aren’t willing to pay the price for it. So we rest on our laurels of what was once a vital healthy body, trying not to look at the reality of a body that needs some serious healing. Who wants to spend all the effort just to get well? If we just wish hard enough, maybe everything will all be okay. You know, the ostrich head in the sand syndrome.

So we pretend all is well and we slowly waste away. Sad, so sad.

Is it for you or me?

I have been struggling with something and today I put my finger on it. As I was reading the book of Ezekiel this morning, I had an idea, a thought, about something I might write on my blog. Then I thought: “No, that wouldn’t appeal to my public”.  I think I’ve discovered that people like it when I write about things that are happening in my life, but my philosophical or theological discussions don’t hit a high note. That’s okay, for I am certainly no theologian or philosopher. Nor do I have any expectation that my every thought or opinion is all that fascinating. The real question is why I write my blog. Is it for my pleasure in writing, or is to communicate with you, my friends? If it’s just for me to write, then I should write about everything and anything that appeals to me. If, however, my purpose is communicate with you, then I need to consider my “audience” , or as I said once, me and my 35 readers! (Hey, it’s improving, as at one time I only had 8 readers.) I confess I write because it is a creative outlet for me, but the bottom line is I also want you to enjoy what you read. I am ever and always the youngest child of the family that wants everyone to approve of what I do and love who I am.

I mean, I’ve known that about me for years and years. What I realized today, is how that is connected with what is happening with me in my art classes. I have walked out the last two weeks, totally frustrated, to the point of ripping up and throwing out everything I tried to do. What I have always enjoyed, has become horribly stressful for me and I was totally ready to quit. The thing is we were working on learning composition and doing sketches. Sketches, or mine at least, look crummy. And drawing itself is not my strong suit. For a long time now I’ve been focusing on color and copying, and have forgotten how to really draw from life. I had gotten used to “producing”  something that looked good and could “compare”  favorably to what others were doing. I got addicted to being able to show what I had done and for others to like it. But I did that at the cost of no longer risking failure in order to learn. I originally took on art as a challenge to learn something new and suddenly it has become a competition to do better than the other students, as well as the need to “ make pretty” . No wonder it hasn’t been fun anymore. So today I took out a sketch book and decided I am going to start sketching. That means drawing what I see, very quickly and without accuracy or details. In my case, I have to take away the eraser to make me sketch and not draw. It’s like starting all over again. But I think I am on track. I still need to learn and I can only learn by failing – trial and error,  because different from my blog, my art is for me! and different from the gym, it really is true: “no pain, no gain”. So tonight during the Bible study I took out my pencil and paper and sketched. In about 15 min. or less I sketched João and the guy in front of me. Yeah! I did something fast and with NO eraser. I think I’ve started a new phase. Now if I can just learn to accept that it’s me who is learning and not compare my feeble efforts with my very talented cohorts (which is very inhibiting to me), I think I’ll make it to the next level. Sorry guys, but this one really is all about ME!

Black Sunshine

Today as I sat all tucked back into my favorite armchair, reading my Bible and drinking my tea, who should jump up to sit with me (as is her morning custom)? Mia, of course. She wiggled her way around until she was stretched out on my lap, purring away, looking up at me adoringly, begging for some attention. As I petted her so soft, velvety fur, for some reason I began to murmur “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…”

Then I laughed to myself. Black sunshine. Who ever heard of black sunshine? While I wouldn’t say Mia is my “only” sunshine, she is my black sunshine. Lately she has been more companionable and has been constantly at my side or in my lap. As I look into her eyes, I can’t understand why people are so afraid of or dislike so intensely these animals that were born to be adored! Mia, in particular, brings me so much pleasure as she seems to enjoy lavishing her affection.

João and I began analyzing her peculiar beauty (frankly, I thought her ugly the first time I saw her, but now I only see her with eyes of love). She really isn’t black , but rather coffee or chocolate colored. Her very short fur is so thick you can bury your hands in it. And her fur is so soft, that velvet really is the only word for it.

I’ve never seen a creature beg for attention like she does. The other day she was on the couch beside me and when I got up, she went bounding over to a chair, climbed to the top of it to be near me as I passed. I petted her briefly and moved on, but she followed me jumping up to the top of another chair, stretching out her neck to be petted as I passed by. Now that is needy. And it’s not like she not always sitting on someone’s lap or getting petted. She adores Sissy and Sissy sometimes says if anything happens to Mia she will have to buried with her.

It’s hard to believe she is just celebrating her 2nd anniversary of living with us, for she is so much a part of our family. Next month will be her 10th birthday. Our little British Shorthair deserves quite a celebration for all the joy she brings to us.    

I said I wouldn’t, but I am!

Yesterday I ran across a site with “Cheyenne” episodes. If you are younger than 50 and didn’t grow up with American television, you don’t know what in the world I’m talking about. I loved this TV show when I was a kid (since it ran from 1957-1963, I really was a kid!). I watched an episode today, prepared to think it was pretty stupid and hokey. You know what? I loved it! It was well acted, a good story line and had a great moral to it – if you can ignore all the shooting and dying of the bad guys. João said, I know, you are going to write about watching this on your blog and I said: “Of course not!” The more I thought about it, however, the more I wanted to do so as I remember all those old TV shows I watched as a kid.

There were in fact several westerns, and they alternated weeks. I remember enjoying them. As I watched Cheyenne, I was surprised at what a good looking man Clint Walker was! He really was a hunk, but I guess I was way too young to care about that. The episode I watched had kids in it and I think all of them did, just to attract us little guys to watch the shows. I remember  “Sugarfoot” as being my favorite of all. The main character was cute, as I remember him and he was definitely non-violent. Even as a kid, I never liked guns, killing and violence.

The other show of the group that I really liked was Maverick with the charming and comedic James Garner. I mostly remember he was a great card player and the women liked him. He was always charming himself out of trouble. It was more fun than the others.

I really dislike nostalgia that makes people say that everything was better in the “good old days” and everything is awful nowadays. On the other hand it’s terribly arrogant to think everything we do today is much better quality and more sophisticated than anything in the past. So it’s been nice to strike a happy medium and heartily enjoy an old show. Do they bring back any old memories for you as well?

Songs in the Night

When I was a child, I slept as a child. As you can see in the photo, I slept anywhere, anytime. In fact if they didn’t let me sleep, I would pitch a fit (according to family folklore. I, of course, never remember being anything less than a perfect child). When I became a middle-aged woman (ouch!), I put away childish things – like sleeping anywhere, anytime, anyhow.

As much as I still love to sleep, it sometimes eludes me. I don’t, as a general rule, have any trouble falling asleep, but there are nights that I have trouble staying asleep. They tell me that happens after menopause. It’s not always and I don’t stress about it, as I know if I don’t sleep well one night, the next I’ll make up for it.

But those hours in the early morning, or very late night, as you will have it, can be the loneliest hours of all. It is dark. All are asleep. It is quiet. I want to sleep. Sleep will not return. My mind begins to think “not pleasant” thoughts. Fears run rampart. Worries are multiplied. Everything is bleak, dark and without solution. If allowed to run free, despair and panic could follow suit. My very recent solution has been to turn on my mp3 player, put in the earplugs and listen to the Scripture, for in these hours even prayers will not flow from my lips. As I listen, especially to my beloved Psalms, my heart begins to beat more slowly. My breathing begins to deepen. My mind is freed and my soul is comforted. I sleep. And I know if those dark thoughts come again on another night, God will comfort me with his words,  for “Behold, He who keeps Peggy shall neither slumber nor sleep” -Psalm 121:4 (PSV - Peggy Standard Version).

Today I was inspired to write these thoughts, as I read Job 35:10: “Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night?” I was struck immediately by the beauty of the words, even if they were said by one of Job’s useless friends. The guy had good theology, even if he didn’t know how to apply it! God does give songs in the night. Ah, how those words danced in my mind. Maybe I’ll even welcome a night or two without sleep, just so I can hear the songs God gives in the night.

Very Cool!

It’s my understanding that in the US, the fairly new translation of the Bible, the ESV (English Standard Version) is making a big hit. I was thrilled when my friend Franklin brought one back from the US for me. It is a very literal, yet modern translation. I had been progressing very nicely with my McCheyne Bible reading plan I began in January and was really enjoying it. When I hit August, however, our church began a Bible reading campaign (that I was spearheading!) of reading the Bible in 125 days. That’s because our church turned 125 years old. And also because the end of the reading would coincide with “Bible Sunday” on December 13th. I kind of resisted switching reading plans. I had already finished the New Testament, Proverbs and Psalms, and was reading them through a second time. I had finished the historical books and was deeply into the prophecies.

Upon acquiring the new Bible, however, I decided to switch over. Unfortunately I decided somewhere after August 15th, which meant I was far behind in the 125 day plan. I had developed the plan, and it requires a 30-40 minute daily commitment, whereas my current plan was about 15 minutes. Yet, when I looked at it like that, it wasn’t so much. I have been known to sit up all night and read a novel. So I jumped in, trying to catch up by reading 20-30 chapters a day. To help me along in that, I downloaded a dramatized ESV audio New Testament for free! It can be found at the Faith Come By Hearing website. The Revelation recording is just out of this world and I remembered a New Testament prof at the seminary who always claimed this book was meant to be dramatized. I plan on listening a second time to Revelation! I transferred it to my mp3 and suddenly I was totally addicted to reading/listening to the New Testament. I could hardly make myself quit listening.

I also downloaded a paid version of the ESV Old Testament, but found Proverbs, Job, Genesis hard to just “listen” to. So I now go to the ESV study Bible page (when you purchase one of the Bibles you automatically get a free subscription to the online Bible) and opened the Bible and followed along as I listen (they offer that option). Boy does that help my concentration. There is a free site that offers a similar option of listening online and following along. At this ESV page, I found several very interesting Bible reading  plans as well.

Frankly, I don’t like the physical format of the ESV Bible I have. Maybe I just need to get used to. It too thick and heavy and doesn’t lay open on your lap or on a table for that matter. It’s just awkward to handle. I miss my NIV Bible I’ve used for 16 years. It’s all underlined and soft and the pages flip open easily. I find anything I want in the Bible. And since I’ve used this translation since 1982, it’s nearly as comfortable to me as The King James Version. Truth be told, I just don’t like breaking in a new Bible. Do you feel that way as well?

For now I’ll keep using NIV for my physical reading of the Bible and slugging away at the “virtual” copy of the ESV. I may eventually make the transition, or maybe I’ll find a copy of the ESV that easier to handle for “just” reading, with no study notes.

To make things complicated I also have a new Bible in Portuguese (for those who will understand, this is the “Almeida Século 21” version) that our church personalized for our anniversary. My adaption to it has been somewhat easier, although I will confess that even after so many years in Brazil, I just prefer reading the Bible in English. Just lazy I guess, but next year I hope to do 2 complete readings of the Bible, with one being in Portuguese and another in English. Maybe I’ll do them “side-by-side”. What do you think?

Well that’s probably way more than you wanted to know about my Bible reading, but I hasten to add that I wanted to write about this to express how MUCH I love reading the Bible and how the more I read it, the more I want to read it. It really is listening to the voice of God. I can’t imagine why I ever made such silly excuses about not having time. Get real!!!! 30 minutes a day is no sacrifice. It has become my motivation to get out of bed every day as I think of how wonderful it will be to read or hear more of what God has to say to me! How cool is that????

Emergency Room

Yesterday as I walked with João to the gym, just around the corner, I commented I felt kind of funny, like my stomach hurt. Then, as we entered the gym, my hands started to burn and itch. I did exactly one warm up and I turned to João saying I needed to go home, something was wrong. My hands were fire engine red and everything was starting itch. I planned to stop at the pharmacy and get an antihistamine. Didn’t make it that far. About a block from the gym, I told him I couldn’t stand up anymore. I sat down on the curb feeling as sick as I have ever felt. Soon I couldn’t even sit. I had to lay down on the grass as the world swooned around me. And sooner, I just didn’t care about anything as I itched everywhere imaginable and felt like everything was fading away.

It was amazing, as people passed by, all stopped and offered help. One lady insisted to João I could be going into anaphylactic shock and that he must get me to a hospital. They called an ambulance and I awoke enough to say no, because they would take me to a public hospital. So she whistled for a taxi and I tried to get in. Then my world stopped for I was out cold. João said my eyes were totally open, but no one was there. That scared everybody. It took three strong men to lift me into the taxi. How’s that for dead weight? Once I was lying down I reluctantly awoke, for I was having the nicest dream… now I understand why people take drugs. Wow, I felt so wonderful. But soon I realized I was in a speeding taxi, although the hospital was only two blocks away. Got to the emergency room and once again, I couldn’t move, so they managed to sling me onto a cart and rush me in where they immediately applied an injection while João checked me in. Amazing, as by the time he got back to me I was fairly alert and making sense.

They gave me an IV with steroids and then I really came around. In about 90 minutes I was wanting to go home. You should have seen me – all red and covered in hives. Yet within two hours there was only some residual redness on my hands (probably from my digging at them). I was happy to go home and sleep off the effects of the drugs. Other than drowsiness, I was feeling like nothing had happened.

I learned a couple of things from the experience.

First of all, you can’t wish away illness. I certainly tried, by force of will, to be okay and just brush it off or get up and walk away. I just couldn’t.

Secondly, I saw how kind and caring perfect strangers can be, in helping us to know what to do and making us go to the hospital.

Thirdly, I realized that something drastic or bad CAN really happen anytime, anywhere. Life is fragile!

Fourthly, I was reminded how tender and caring my husband is. He was so sweet and patient through it all.

Finally, I will never ever again take Anador (a pain reliever only sold in Brazil) and/or Nasonex together or separately. I can live without the excitement!

Boring to you, triumph for me

 

Yes, it’s MY rooster. I saw him while on vacation. I photographed him (after having to “seduce” him with lots of stale old bread) close up(the small insert to the right). Then I drew him. And in a bold step for me, I chose to paint him in acrylics, my nemesis. So here he is in all his glory (the scan is slightly blurry since he is painting on canvas and I can’t get it tight into the scanner).  It is really my very first “Peggy” exclusive where I have tried to give it my interpretation. I chose the colors and the painting style and so I very much “own” the painting. Tomorrow I’ll carry it off to class and see what the teacher wants me to add as details, but basically it’s done. I like him and my husband says I should frame it. Frankly, it’s not that good, but I may frame it and stick it in the kitchen. Makes a nice “Portuguese” them. Roosters are national symbol in Portugal. Here’s the story: “A young man was sentenced to be hanged for a crime he didn't commit. In this case, there was not enough doubt to do the accused any good. Vainly, he swore his innocence. In desperation, he fell on his knees and prayed to his two favourite saints, the Virgin Mary and St. John. Thereafter, he made his last wish to meet his judge one more time. As customary, this wish was granted. The judge received the young man in his own home and even served him a fried rooster. Once again, the man swore he did not commit this crime, and, probably inspired by his two favourite saints, he suddenly lifted his right hand's two swear fingers and exclaimed: "Honourable judge, by the Virgin Mary and the Holy John, I once again swear that I am innocent. If I lie, the rooster on that tray will stay where it is, but if I am telling the truth, it will rise and crow". In the same instant, the rooster was in its earlier feathers, standing up and crowing so it was heard all over Barcelos. The young man was immediately released. To the right is the Barcelos Rooster.

And you thought you wouldn’t learn anything new and useful today!!!  (Source: http://home.online.no/~nancys/portugal/country/rooster.html)

For the Girl I Was

Five years ago, when I was living in Canada I wrote this story and it’s been lost all this time. I ran across the file on my computer and so I decided that I would publish it on my blog. I hope you enjoy reading it. Even five years later it gives me joy to read it and remember that happy day.

For the Girl I Was

And there she was. Carefully scraping her thumbnail over the bar of soap and transferring it to the belly of the doll that she had begged me to undress. I observed her deliberately repeat her task over and over again. I smiled indulgently as any surrogate grandmother might do while playing with her favourite 18 month old. As I began to observe more clinically, to see if there were any good ideas for my series of studies on toddlers, I glanced at the doll’s eyes. I had to shake my head as I suddenly had a flashback. I recalled the story of the “Velveteen Rabbit” and remembered the words of the old Skin Horse, about toys becoming real when they were well loved. The doll was certainly well loved. She was missing half her hair and what remained was matted and ugly. Her painted on eyes were faded. She had what looked like crayon marks on her cheek and some permanent dirt on her tummy. She is very old I thought. She must be more than forty. I hunted through my memory banks to remember her name. It was Toodles. She was the only doll I kept because I loved her so. Looking at her brought out buried emotions from my heart. I thought I saw love in that doll’s eyes. And I remembered.

I remembered that I played with her until I was far too old to be holding baby dolls. She had such a sweet expression on her face. She even wore one of my old baby dresses. Maybe I was just feeling sentimental on my almost birthday, but for just an instant I felt like she breathed a sigh of freedom. It was as if she was muttering, “At last, off the shelf and into a child’s arms.” For sure, Christina didn’t care about the dirt and the wear and tear. She laboured over the baby doll’s pretend bath for nearly twenty minutes. That’s an absolute marvel in the world of a toddler.

Tears welled up as I watched. Not just a few tears. It might be said that I began to weep. I felt again how much I had loved this doll. I even remembered how sad I was to put her in a box because I really was too old for her. I didn’t want to be too old for my doll baby, and yet still too young for a real baby. I had wanted to hold on just a bit longer, not ready to release my childhood. So, I didn’t let my mom give her away with all my other toys. Even when I went away to college, moved to Korea and then to Brazil, Toodles stayed packed away, waiting for me to be ready for her again.

But I was never ready for her again. I never had my own babies who could play with her and love her like I did. There was no place in my home for an old worn out baby doll. Consequently she was moved with my mother’s things to Chicago, Raleigh and finally to Kentucky. When I finally came close to moving home, arriving in Canada, my mom said, “That’s it! Some of your junk has to go.” I began sifting through years of memories stored with my mom. Somewhere in a ratty old box I found Toodles. Fortunately no one was around and I could hug her and give her a big kiss. She would not go into the throw away pile. She would go in my suitcase and onto the airplane all the way to Canada. I knew what I would do with her, too. I would clean her up and buy a beautiful dress for her and keep her on my bed. She would be a kind of antique decoration. She would be a beloved reminder of my infancy long gone.

Toodles made it safely to Canada, but not to my bed. I never seemed to remember to buy her that beautiful new dress. She did get cleaned up, but I decided I didn’t want to repair her hair or repaint her eyes. It would like wiping out all the love she had received. I put her in the laundry room where she sat and I talked to her occasionally as I folded my clothes. Somehow she looked forlorn and always made me a little sad. She made me think of loss, abandonment, of times that could not be recaptured and of things that would never be. That was very strange, for after all she is only an old doll and I’m so very pragmatic and unsentimental.

Still, my strangely evocative doll (and to some people my very ugly doll) stayed on the laundry room shelf for several years until Christina was here that night. I thought Toodles would be just right for Christina. So she was. It was endearing to see Christina embrace that ugly old doll. Then came the moment of my tears. “Oh, Toodles, at last you are being loved on again.”

Truth be told there was more going on. “At last”, I thought, “ I have a living, breathing baby I can touch and hold and love and it doesn’t hurt.” Christina is a wonderful, precious little girl who has that lovely, sweet baby smell and who comes running to my open arms when she sees me. Never has a baby loved me so. Never have I been able to love a baby, except maybe my Toodles. And now I was watching  the two of them love each other.

On the eve of my 52^nd birthday, it is crystal clear that I will not have babies to play with Toodles. Until now I don’t think I knew what to do with that little girl who loved her baby doll, but could not have her own babies. So on this night I mourned what I had lost. The tears were for the girl I was. But there was also a smile. A smile for the woman I have become and, of course, for the baby Christina who plays with the baby Toodles.

PS:  My mother made a beautiful dress for Toodles. She “lives” with me in Brazil now, sitting on my nightstand, wearing my bracelet I used when I came home from the hospital in 1952

It’s been a busy week!

It’s Friday, finally and it’s been quite a hectic week. Despite or perhaps because of all of that, we decided to enjoy our day off together. So after some very typical wishy-washy debate of trying to decide what to do, we drove over to the south side of town for a late lunch.  João decided to take me to a seafood place right on the beach of Ipanema. In all the hustle and bustle of this insane city, it’s hard to believe there is a place like this. The entry to the street is very restricted and when you drive down the little alley, there you are right at the beach, just blocks from Copacabana. But here you see and hear the waves and suddenly you feel the stress just blowing out to the sea, going away to Africa! Today the sky was that rare blue we have once in a while here. It wasn’t hot, and in fact we chose to sit outside in the sun. Once again, it was that rare deliciously warming sun here in the tropics, with a light breeze to keep us cool. It made me glad to live in Rio. It was just that kind of perfect day. We ordered our favorite moqueca (it’s the fish stew you see on the left, prepared in an earthen ware pot). It was really good. Even the rice and manioc flour that accompanied it was tasty. I savored the afternoon. Since it seemed to so calm and quiet, we decided to take a walk down to the rocks you see in the photo on the right. It was just lovely. Doesn’t it really look like the tropical paradise that you imagine Rio is?  It’s a shame so much of Rio has deteriorated into dirt and slums and traffic jams and violence that we forget how wonderful it can be. Today was a respite and it made us want to live right on the beach. I feel ten years younger after our day off. I trust you too are investing in your recreation and mental health as well. My house may be dirty and my articles yet to be written, but I feel so good I just don’t care!

Happy Birthday to Us

Don’t you think we look remarkably well preserved for celebrating our 125th birthday? Monday was our church’s birthday. We’ve been making a full month of it with activities. Sunday we celebrated with the Lord’s Supper, with the presence of many ex and long distant members present. We finally had a full house after weeks of empty pews, we think due to the Swine Flu scare. Our schools have opened again and life seems to be returning to normal.

Monday, on the actual anniversary, we had a 12 hour prayer vigil, starting at 6AM. Every 30 minutes there was a different person to lead the prayer time. João had the 6AM slot and I was at 6:30. It might surprise you to know that these were the most well attended times. That’s because people could come before work or school and then slip out as needed. People came and went all day long, although some folks stayed the entire day. It sounds like it would have been tiring, but it is such a wonderful experience. Every person brings a different perspective and style, so it is all quite varied. This year it was heavily led by the youth, so that made it different, although I laughingly noted that they were the least creative and talked the most.  I guess it was insecurity. Every aspect of church life was prayer for through silent prayer, group prayer, oral prayer, individual prayers, etc. This is a very long standing tradition and there are folks who have participated in this event for over 50 years. I hope we never ever do away with it!

At the end of the prayer time, we had a “birthday party” for the church with cake and all. The music was nice and the food was good, and I enjoyed getting to talk with folks, since there had been no time for that during the day. I will confess, however, that I missed the celebratory worship service.

I have been faithful to my Bible reading plan this year and have been loving my daily Bible reading time. As part of our celebration we promoted a plan for reading the Bible in 125 days. I have added that to my current reading, so a big chunk of my morning has been given to Bible reading. I am so enjoying it and have been pleased to see that others at church are finding the same pleasure!

Next Sunday we close off the month of celebration with the presentation of the cantata “God With Us”.  Between the orchestra and choir there must be close to 150 participants. If you are around on Sunday night at 7PM, come and join us.