What did Jesus' disciples think about on that long Saturday after the day of his crucifixion?
My essay on this topic is now available through Churchmouse Publications.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Lauren Edens and Tanzania
My friend, Lauren Edens, is living and working in Tanzania with an organization called Courage to Be You. They are working to free young girls from being sex slaves and are building a home for these girls to be rehabilitated and cared for in a safe environment. Please watch Lauren's video. At the end of the video, you will have a chance to vote for it. If they win the contest, the guy that shot the video will receive $10,000 to use to make a full documentary. This would help continue to raise awareness of this world-wide problem.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Death and Dying
Right now I have several friends and family members who are battling cancer or some other life-threatening illness, and I am reminded of just how short our time on earth is. Some days--the really hard ones--I'm okay with that, because I know that eternity with my God will be perfection. No more sadness and pain. Only God in all His glory. Forever.
Still, there are other days when I am especially enjoying this God-given experience called my life, and I don't really want it to change. Maybe it's just because I'm comfortable; it's familiar to me. Because of this, however, I am susceptible to becoming complacent, and it often takes the threat of the death of a loved one to shake me out of this.
But isn't that threat always there? At any moment in time, our lives on this earth can end. Some people are given an advanced warning through illness and are able to say their good-byes, though they are said through great pain. Others are taken so swiftly--and often much too soon, in our opinions. Many deaths seem senseless, that they could have easily been prevented. These are the hardest to wrap our minds around.
I don't like to dwell in the subject of death, but I do think it's healthy to visit it from time to time. It makes me ask myself what I'm really doing with my life and helps keep things in perspective, which is what people always say when someone dies. And then a few days later, we're back to complaining about the cell phone bill or our jeans fitting too tightly or about how much it's rained. Why is it so easy for us to do this?
My heart is grieving for those whose time on earth is coming to an end and for those to whom they are closest, because they're really the ones that suffer. When my husband or I take a trip without the other one, it's always the one who is left behind that has the hardest time with being apart.
It's a shame that it takes separation for us to fully appreciate each other.
Still, there are other days when I am especially enjoying this God-given experience called my life, and I don't really want it to change. Maybe it's just because I'm comfortable; it's familiar to me. Because of this, however, I am susceptible to becoming complacent, and it often takes the threat of the death of a loved one to shake me out of this.
But isn't that threat always there? At any moment in time, our lives on this earth can end. Some people are given an advanced warning through illness and are able to say their good-byes, though they are said through great pain. Others are taken so swiftly--and often much too soon, in our opinions. Many deaths seem senseless, that they could have easily been prevented. These are the hardest to wrap our minds around.
I don't like to dwell in the subject of death, but I do think it's healthy to visit it from time to time. It makes me ask myself what I'm really doing with my life and helps keep things in perspective, which is what people always say when someone dies. And then a few days later, we're back to complaining about the cell phone bill or our jeans fitting too tightly or about how much it's rained. Why is it so easy for us to do this?
My heart is grieving for those whose time on earth is coming to an end and for those to whom they are closest, because they're really the ones that suffer. When my husband or I take a trip without the other one, it's always the one who is left behind that has the hardest time with being apart.
It's a shame that it takes separation for us to fully appreciate each other.
Guide to Lent
I just received this link to a free downloadable guide to Lent from Evergreen Community in Portland, via Steven Dilla on Twitter, and wanted to share: http://bit.ly/d5wZxf
Book Review: THE BOOK OF THE SHEPHERD
*The Book of the Shepherd is a fable that, quite honestly, didn't capture my attention or my heart. In fact, I was more interested in the story behind the story--that Joann Davis found an old book in a broken-down house that she had purchased after the former owner, an elderly professor, died sitting at his desk. He had left instructions that all contents of the house should go to the next homeowner. On the old book, he had made a note to have it translated one day.So to fulfill the old professor's dream, Joann Davis found a way to have the story translated and now published. I think that the message attempting to be delivered through this fable is a wonderful one--one of love and forgiveness and mercy. However, the synopsis on the book's jacket is what helped me really understand what the story was about. Then again, I've never been a great lover of fables.
*Disclosure of Material Connection: I received the product mentioned above for free by The Ooze Viral Bloggers in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”
Friday, February 12, 2010
Four Eyes
I hadn't had my eyes checked in ten years, so it was time. I went to the optometrist's office yesterday morning, and everyone who worked there was so nice. The first lady performed the preliminary tests on me, and I did well, with the exception of being unable to suppress my startled "Oh!" with each puff of air that was shot into my eyes.
Next I was taken into an examination room, where another lady handed me a big plastic spoon to cover my left eye with. Then she told me to look straight ahead and tell her what the letters were when I saw them. I said okay and waited. There was an awkward silence, so I started wondering if I was looking in the wrong place. As I glanced around at other walls in the room, she finally asked, "You don't see that?" I got really worried really quickly, and then she turned around to look for herself at the wall and started laughing. "Oh, it's not even on!"
I was greatly relieved when a giant E then appeared on the wall, and I could clearly read it. The lady and I both laughed. And breathed a little easier.
After it was all said and done, I was told that I have great vision, just some trouble focusing. This is probably pretty telling of me on a few levels. The doctor gave me a prescription for some reading glasses and told me it would be a lot cheaper just to get some at the pharmacy. So I did. Then I went to the fabric store to buy some, well, fabric, and my total came to $20.20. I laughed a little to myself at this ironic number but decided not to share this humorous moment with the lady behind the register, because she probably wouldn't think it was as funny as I did.
After I picked up my youngest daughter at Mother's Day Out, I asked her if she wanted to see what I got. She said yes. So I put on my new glasses and turned around to get her response. She tilted her head a little to the side and made a weird face, which didn't encourage me. Then we went to pick up my other two children, and I asked them if they wanted to see what I got. They said yes. So I put on the glasses and turned around for their response. Caleb raised his eyebrows and said, "Huh?," while Callie tilted her head a little to the side and made a weird face. I'd seen this response before. Oh well. So my children aren't fans on my glasses yet.
Next I was taken into an examination room, where another lady handed me a big plastic spoon to cover my left eye with. Then she told me to look straight ahead and tell her what the letters were when I saw them. I said okay and waited. There was an awkward silence, so I started wondering if I was looking in the wrong place. As I glanced around at other walls in the room, she finally asked, "You don't see that?" I got really worried really quickly, and then she turned around to look for herself at the wall and started laughing. "Oh, it's not even on!"
I was greatly relieved when a giant E then appeared on the wall, and I could clearly read it. The lady and I both laughed. And breathed a little easier.
After it was all said and done, I was told that I have great vision, just some trouble focusing. This is probably pretty telling of me on a few levels. The doctor gave me a prescription for some reading glasses and told me it would be a lot cheaper just to get some at the pharmacy. So I did. Then I went to the fabric store to buy some, well, fabric, and my total came to $20.20. I laughed a little to myself at this ironic number but decided not to share this humorous moment with the lady behind the register, because she probably wouldn't think it was as funny as I did.
After I picked up my youngest daughter at Mother's Day Out, I asked her if she wanted to see what I got. She said yes. So I put on my new glasses and turned around to get her response. She tilted her head a little to the side and made a weird face, which didn't encourage me. Then we went to pick up my other two children, and I asked them if they wanted to see what I got. They said yes. So I put on the glasses and turned around for their response. Caleb raised his eyebrows and said, "Huh?," while Callie tilted her head a little to the side and made a weird face. I'd seen this response before. Oh well. So my children aren't fans on my glasses yet.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
My Granddaddy
Granddaddy and I share a birthday--March 5th. He is 50 years my senior, and I was named after his mother, Carrie Elizabeth. I love these connections I have to him. When I was little, he used to take me on special birthday dates. One year we got all dressed up and went to see Swan Lake, which was my first ballet to attend. Eight years old, I wore a lavender and white dress with matching barrettes and ribbons in my hair. Granddaddy, dressed all in gray, gave me a corsage to wear, which made me feel so grown up. We have a picture of him helping me put on my coat. It was a very big night for me.
On other birthdays, he would take me out to eat and sometimes shopping for a gift. Once he bought me a set of those really big headphones that had a radio built right into them (you know, the kind that make you look like an air traffic controller). This gift ran a close second in my favorite-ness to the Kodak Disc camera he bought me one year. Oh, how cool was I then?! A third grader with her very own camera! Right after we bought it, we went to McDonald's and sat across from each other and took pictures of one another.
As we've gotten older, and I've moved away from Memphis, we haven't spent very many birthdays together. Now we just send cards to each other and sometimes call when March 5th rolls around. That doesn't make it any less special to me, though. I write both of our birthdays together on my wall calendar, and I think about him all day long. This man is so special to me.
I have yet to encounter anyone who has stories like Granddaddy does. At 85 years old, he can still remember and retell stories of his growing up in Zion, Illinois and in the Bronx (I've always said he's the first Yankee I ever met.). Baseball was a big part of his life. In fact, he pitched in the Minor League for a while. Apparently he was incredibly accurate. When he was in the Army, he worked as some sort of clerk and got to help assign men to different posts. Given this role, he took it upon himself to assign all the good baseball players to the same post--his--so that they could all be on the same team when the troops played against each other.
Although baseball was a big part of Granddaddy's life, music was even bigger. It still is. He has played the clarinet, saxophone, and lots of other instruments during his lifetime and has spent years and years directing various bands and orchestras. I don't know how many times he has retired from conducting, only to be coaxed back into it shortly after. It didn't take much. He's as bad as Brett Favre.
I took after Granddaddy for a couple of years in middle school, when I played the clarinet. Unfortunately, I didn't stick with it. I always felt like this disappointed him. After I gave up the clarinet, I took cello lessons for a year, which he paid for. Again, I didn't stick with it. Again, I felt like this disappointed him. Of course, now--just as he and my mother predicted--I regret not sticking with an instrument. I didn't even stick with piano. I can play a mean egg-shaker, though. And I'm decent on Guitar Hero. Yeah, disappointing.
When I was little, Granddaddy had a head full of hair. What I didn't know was that most of it was removable. I'll never forget the first time I realized this. We had just gotten to his house, and I hadn't seen him yet, because he was in the backyard cutting the grass. I went into the bathroom, and there I saw a styrofoam head that was sporting my grandfather's hair! Yeah, it freaked me out a bit. I'm not sure how I hadn't known about this earlier. I guess it just looked really natural to me, so I didn't question it. Several years later, he stopped wearing the toupee.
Various food items--Freshen-Up gum, black licorice, Cobb salad, chili, and root beer--will always make me think of Granddaddy. The Chicago Cubs, Bob Evans Restaurant, Charles Dickens, four-part harmony, and gray clothing are also things that I will forever associate with him. And copy machines. Why? Because this man loves his copier. You see, he has taken it upon himself to be the Petreman family historian. He has a room in his apartment designated for this purpose, and he has stacks of letters, pictures, diaries, and such from various members of the family. And what does he do with these? He makes copies of them. At least three of each. Then he compiles the copies into three-ring binders, which will be passed down to my mother, my uncle, and myself. Why me? Because I shall inherit the role of family historian one day. I'm pretty excited about this, because I think it's all so fascinating. Also, Granddaddy has already done all the hard work; I just have to fill in the blanks when children are born and such from here on out. I guess I'll have to invest in a copier, too.
Wesley Roy "Pete" Petreman--a man with firm convictions; a man who tells it like it is and does not believe in sugar-coating anything; a man who would drive across town just to judge his granddaughters' doll show or buy something from their lemonade stand; a man who is proud of his Swedish heritage; a man who can turn any group of people into a choir or a small orchestra; a man who played "Fox and Geese" with his grandchildren in the snow; a man who is generous and helpful and kind, yet stern; a man with whom I share a birthday, a lineage, and a love for writing. You are a grand man, and I am so glad to know you.
On other birthdays, he would take me out to eat and sometimes shopping for a gift. Once he bought me a set of those really big headphones that had a radio built right into them (you know, the kind that make you look like an air traffic controller). This gift ran a close second in my favorite-ness to the Kodak Disc camera he bought me one year. Oh, how cool was I then?! A third grader with her very own camera! Right after we bought it, we went to McDonald's and sat across from each other and took pictures of one another.
As we've gotten older, and I've moved away from Memphis, we haven't spent very many birthdays together. Now we just send cards to each other and sometimes call when March 5th rolls around. That doesn't make it any less special to me, though. I write both of our birthdays together on my wall calendar, and I think about him all day long. This man is so special to me.
I have yet to encounter anyone who has stories like Granddaddy does. At 85 years old, he can still remember and retell stories of his growing up in Zion, Illinois and in the Bronx (I've always said he's the first Yankee I ever met.). Baseball was a big part of his life. In fact, he pitched in the Minor League for a while. Apparently he was incredibly accurate. When he was in the Army, he worked as some sort of clerk and got to help assign men to different posts. Given this role, he took it upon himself to assign all the good baseball players to the same post--his--so that they could all be on the same team when the troops played against each other.
Although baseball was a big part of Granddaddy's life, music was even bigger. It still is. He has played the clarinet, saxophone, and lots of other instruments during his lifetime and has spent years and years directing various bands and orchestras. I don't know how many times he has retired from conducting, only to be coaxed back into it shortly after. It didn't take much. He's as bad as Brett Favre.
I took after Granddaddy for a couple of years in middle school, when I played the clarinet. Unfortunately, I didn't stick with it. I always felt like this disappointed him. After I gave up the clarinet, I took cello lessons for a year, which he paid for. Again, I didn't stick with it. Again, I felt like this disappointed him. Of course, now--just as he and my mother predicted--I regret not sticking with an instrument. I didn't even stick with piano. I can play a mean egg-shaker, though. And I'm decent on Guitar Hero. Yeah, disappointing.
When I was little, Granddaddy had a head full of hair. What I didn't know was that most of it was removable. I'll never forget the first time I realized this. We had just gotten to his house, and I hadn't seen him yet, because he was in the backyard cutting the grass. I went into the bathroom, and there I saw a styrofoam head that was sporting my grandfather's hair! Yeah, it freaked me out a bit. I'm not sure how I hadn't known about this earlier. I guess it just looked really natural to me, so I didn't question it. Several years later, he stopped wearing the toupee.
Various food items--Freshen-Up gum, black licorice, Cobb salad, chili, and root beer--will always make me think of Granddaddy. The Chicago Cubs, Bob Evans Restaurant, Charles Dickens, four-part harmony, and gray clothing are also things that I will forever associate with him. And copy machines. Why? Because this man loves his copier. You see, he has taken it upon himself to be the Petreman family historian. He has a room in his apartment designated for this purpose, and he has stacks of letters, pictures, diaries, and such from various members of the family. And what does he do with these? He makes copies of them. At least three of each. Then he compiles the copies into three-ring binders, which will be passed down to my mother, my uncle, and myself. Why me? Because I shall inherit the role of family historian one day. I'm pretty excited about this, because I think it's all so fascinating. Also, Granddaddy has already done all the hard work; I just have to fill in the blanks when children are born and such from here on out. I guess I'll have to invest in a copier, too.
Wesley Roy "Pete" Petreman--a man with firm convictions; a man who tells it like it is and does not believe in sugar-coating anything; a man who would drive across town just to judge his granddaughters' doll show or buy something from their lemonade stand; a man who is proud of his Swedish heritage; a man who can turn any group of people into a choir or a small orchestra; a man who played "Fox and Geese" with his grandchildren in the snow; a man who is generous and helpful and kind, yet stern; a man with whom I share a birthday, a lineage, and a love for writing. You are a grand man, and I am so glad to know you.
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