Do-over?
Do-over? I can have a do-over? Yes! I’m in! I’m a big fan of the do-over. A fresh start. A clean page. A new day. The do-over is an everyday occurrence. I get the opportunity to start fresh with a clean page every day—and so …
a blog for wondering
I remember my grandmother telling us that when she was a child, she was quarantined because she had scarlet fever. Authorities posted a yellow sign on their house to warn people away. I never thought we’d experience the same kind of isolation—minus the sign. Yet …
“Use it or lose it.” How often have we heard that axiom? I have no idea. But it’s a lot, a lot of times. Here’s the thing: I know it to be true. How? Because I’ve lost the things I haven’t used. Sometimes it’s just as simple as something I misplaced. I was done using my keys, just as an example, and set them down somewhere. Do you think I could put my hands on them the next time I needed them? Oh, no! It’s as if they had the power of locomotion and had crawled off somewhere to hide from me and taunt me.
But I had another example today in a different context. I wanted to get two pieces of clothing mended, and I figured it would only take me fifteen minutes. Neither of the needed repairs was big or complicated so it shouldn’t take long, or so I figured. I was, of course, wrong. I had had a lesson on my spiffy new sewing machine so I figured I knew what I was doing and could sit down and knock out this to-do item in no time at all. One was a T-shirt that Charlie loves and didn’t want to give up. My project was a soft, black scarf that had caught on a sharp place and torn a small hole.
I hadn’t used my machine for several months. I kept saying, “I need to sit down at the sewing machine and work on that project so I don’t forget how to do what I learned from the instructor.” But I kept not doing that. So when I sat down to do my quick little mending project, my fifteen-minutes tops sewing project, I couldn’t even remember how to wind a bobbin. I had to look at the instruction manual and have Charlie look at it, too. I did finally get it done, but it was way longer than fifteen minutes, more like 35-45 minutes. All because I hadn’t kept on sewing and learning the ins and outs of how to use this sewing behemoth.
I have lots of other stories about not keeping up with the learning, knowledge, effort, or time I’ve invested and so not keeping the skill. German, anyone? Spanish? Crocheting or knitting? My Bible memory verses? Balance? Like physical balance, staying upright-kind-of balance. I could go on and on. I’ve lost all kinds of skills and abilities through disuse.
What I’m wondering right now is if I might lose some of my spiritual skills or abilities if I don’t use them. I guess it’s possible. I will lose some of my spiritual skills or abilities if I don’t make it a point to use them. It really is use it or lose it across all kinds of fields and possibilities. So it behooves me to cultivate the Fruit of the Spirit, as listed in Galatians 5:22-23: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control so that the fruit goes bigger, stronger, and more delicious day by day.
Questions for you: What are your spiritual gifts? How are you using them?
It’s here! It’s here! Operation Christmas Child Shoebox Collection Week is here! Read on and see what that means. The Samaritan’s Purse website describes Operation Christmas Child this way— “The world’s largest Christmas project of its kind, Operation Christmas Child, uses gift-filled shoeboxes to demonstrate …
I try not to brag, but my first apple pie turned out to be a masterpiece—flaky crust, tart but sweet apples, perfect baking time. I was nine years old when I baked that pie. My mom pretty much turned the kitchen over to me. I pored over the recipe and followed it oh-so-carefully. Everyone loved it, and that launched my love of baking. I love it that I can pull out a recipe, gather the ingredients, follow the steps, and usually have a more-than-edible dish at the end of the process. I open the oven door, peer inside, and marvel that I made that!
About ten years ago, just before Thanksgiving, my husband had a bad fall with lots of broken body parts ensuing. He was in the hospital over the holiday and for a bit afterward. My daughter and I realized that we’d have to refigure our holiday dinner plans. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to finagle a full turkey dinner with all the attendant fixings up to his hospital room. So we asked him what one traditional Thanksgiving dish he would like. He answered immediately, “Apple pie.” Done and done. That I could provide in a hospital room.
That Thanksgiving morning I got up and peeled half a dozen Granny Smith apples. I chopped them into bite-sized pieces and coated them with sugar, flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I prepared the pie dough from scratch, cutting butter into the flour and salt mixture and adding water to get just the right consistency for the pie dough. I put the pie dough into the pie plate and poured the spiced apples into the crust. I placed the top crust on, sealed the edges, and cut in the vent holes. I slid the pie into the oven and prepared a basket with plates and forks, and I put a container of vanilla ice cream into a little cooler. When the pie was done, I loaded everything up and headed down to the hospital.
Kate, her then-boyfriend, and I met up in Charlie’s hospital room, and we had our Thanksgiving feast of apple pie. It was the best pie I’ve ever baked. Charlie still says so. I came home that day with about half a pie and prepared cheese quesadillas for my Thanksgiving dinner. I felt satisfied all the way around.
That’s what baking does for me. It satisfies something in me. I love rolling out pie dough. I enjoy kneading bread dough. I savor baking a family recipe for chocolate cake, Aunt Gen’s Chocolate Cake, and coating it with rich buttercream frosting. I look forward to turning out a delicious batch of cookies—chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodles, oatmeal, and our favorite, Chocolate Nut Revels, another family recipe.
I’ve used baking to connect with our grandson. So far we’ve worked together to bake a peach pie—heavenly! We turned out a double recipe of chocolate chip cookies—outstanding! We go slowly and talk about what we’re doing and fantasize about the finished product. It’s been a great way for us to get to know one another. (Note: The picture above shows you what chocolate chip cookies look like when a nine-year-old puts them on the baking sheet–they’re the cookies of my dreams!)
Baking has ever-so-many benefits, including a yummy product to eat at the end!
Questions for you: How do you feel about baking? What gives you this kind of satisfaction—maybe it’s eating apple pie?!
Our yellow Labrador retriever, Bailey, loves other dogs. She does not understand that other dogs don’t necessarily love her. When she sees a dog, any size dog, she wants to run to them, touch noses, sniff around them (you know what I mean), and maybe …
All I was trying to do was get a document to print. Just two or three measly pages—that was all I needed. Do you think I could get the computer/printer to spit out those pages? Not a chance! I needed them right away so that I could get on to the next thing. But, no! No! Absolutely not!
I did everything I knew how to do. I used every workaround I could conceive. I persisted and tried and retried and then tried again. Finally, I called Tech Support, also known as my husband. He was at work, and I didn’t want to bother him there, but the situation was becoming urgent. So I dialed. I explained the problem as lucidly and calmly as I could, using my own technical terms. Not everyone speaks my form of technical language, with its prolific use of terms such as “thingamabob,” “whatchamacallit,” and “thatthingthat Ican’trememberthetermfor.” Usually, however, my Tech Support could sort it out and get to a solution.
This time, though, it didn’t work. I explained; he instructed. I attempted to follow the instructions; he reiterated. “Move the cursor to hover over the stickythingy, and then click.” Or something like that. He’d ask for a report of what I did and what it did for the process; I’d become more frantic and shrill in my responses. Finally, I had had it. I felt totally incompetent, which is a feeling I try to avoid. He gave one more instruction, and I responded not with humble obedience but with slamming down the phone. Very mature.
I sat and stared at the screen, considering how satisfying it would be to find a hammer and smash the monitor to smithereens. I sat and sat and considered and considered, all the while trying to calm myself. Suddenly the door swung open. Tech Support had come home to solve the problem, and solve it he did. After I had my printing in hand, he admitted to me that he’d come home because he figured I was searching for a hammer to use on the monitor. Tech Support knows me well.
Here’s the thing: I usually understand the what—the outcome. It’s the how that gets me. I understand that usually if I follow the right steps, I get the outcome I need or want. I move the cursor over the print icon and depress the button; the document prints. But I don’t understand the how, especially if the process doesn’t go smoothly, if there’s some kind of snafu, if there’s some extra step I don’t know. Then chaos breaks out.
I find the same to be true in my spiritual life. I have an opinion about how things are supposed to go but oftentimes they don’t go my way. A person balks just as my computer does. I forget a significant piece of information just as I do while sitting at the keyboard. A miscommunication gums up the clarity of the situation just as the wireless connection between computer and printer does.
How can I handle this? I can call Tech Support. No, not my husband. I can call on Jesus. Jeremiah 29:13 gives us a reassuring promise, “13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
I find this Tech Support at the end of a prayer.
Questions for you: Who’s your earthly Tech Support? Who’s your spiritual Tech Support? When do you call on Tech Support?