Friday Five: Discovery

On today's RevGalBlogPals Friday Five, Dorcas shares a beautiful experience of taking her four year old granddaughter to the symphony and wondering if young Trinity would enjoy the experience.  An avid Mozart fan, (in Dorcas' words): "[Trinity] was hopping with excitement, but we gave her lots of coaching, and when we arrived she gazed about with wonder at the lovely venue, and when the orchestra began to tune up she sat up straight and gazed, enraptured, with her mouth literally open. It was pure delight to watch her enjoying brand-new sights, sounds and surroundings."  A discovery moment for both generations!

Here is a Friday Five of my own moments of insight, discovery or awareness from childhood and later:

"Do what Daddy says."  Recorded in the baby book of my sister who is 19 months younger than I am is this precocious advice to me, uttered when she was probably two and a half:  "Sharon, if you would just do what Daddy says, you wouldn't get spanked so much."  I tried.  I tried to learn the "behave" lesson.  I'm not there yet.  Hence the pic above.  My hope: Maybe I'm making history!

Love is Awareness.  A fifth grade writing assignment was to complete the phrase "Love is . . ." with one, and only one, word.  My conclusion:  Love is Awareness

I am not a feminist!  Another assigment, this time in a seminary theology class:  Choose a non-traditional theologian's book to read and compare/contrast with more traditional theology. For those of us who had no clue where to begin with the long list the prof had given us, she suggested choosing a theologian that we thought we would not like. That was easy; this native Texan stay-at-home mom chose a feminist theologian.  I was about one and a half pages into Rosemary Radford Reuther's Sexism and God Talk and, to my incredible shock, I found that she was she was speaking my language about God things.  She made sense.  I had not even realized how much "translation" work I had been doing in order to make the gospel message real in my life. 

Please understand me!  I began to understand myself much better when I was introduced to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator in seminary. I knew that people had different personalities, but I had never had the differences explained in categories that made sense. I began to see that there are many different ways that people approach life and process information, and that we need all kinds in order reflect God's image more authentically in community. Through further testing at the end of seminary, I discovered that I had learned to function a certain way (as an ESFJ) when I had to be "on" and in front of people.  When I am relaxed and safe and "off duty" or too tired to keep up the pretense, I go about life in a far different way (INFP).  Good to know!

Grandmother world.  Because we lived in the same city until I was 13, I was blessed to spend time with my grandmothers during my growing up years.  At their houses, I discovered the world of feeding chickens, gathering eggs, flower gardening, making jam, learning to sew, eating "ladies lunch" at the department store restaurant or at the lunch counter at the drugstore.  With them, I was someone I couldn't be anywhere else: a granddaughter.  And they got to be the grandmother.  Now I'm the grandmother to a grandson.  I wonder what we will discover with each other?

Sunday Sermon: Recognizing Jesus at the Table

Luke 24:13-35; Acts 2:14a, 36-41
May 8, 2011 -- Jerusalem UCC (Palmerton PA)


The Child by the Church Door

Cleopas and his wife were confused. They were walking to the town of Emmaus, trying to sort out what had happened the past few days. In deep conversation they were, and then this stranger joined them -- seemed to come from out of nowhere -- and not only that, this stranger seemed to not know anything about the big news coming out of Jerusalem.

Little did they know that this was Jesus.  Jesus was the stranger who had joined them on their walk to Emmaus. It’s a funny thing: Cleopas and his wife knew all about Jesus.  They knew he was a man of God, a prophet, powerful in deed, amazing teacher, God’s own, popular with the people. They knew that Jesus had been tried and sentenced to death and was crucified. They knew -- and they were confused -- that some women -- that very morning -- had found an empty tomb where the body of Jesus should have been and now were claiming that angels had said that Jesus was alive. Yes, Cleopas and his wife knew all about Jesus; they may even have been with Jesus just a few days before; but when Jesus joined them on the road in a new day, they didn’t know Jesus.

Imagine having Jesus walking along beside you, talking to you and asking questions, and even teaching them everything there is to know about the very history of the Messiah -- and still -- not being able to recognize Jesus when Jesus is right there!

The only thing worse would be to stop expecting Jesus to show up at all. I almost gave up -- years ago -- encouraged by my Sunday School teachers -- or I should say DIS-couraged by some of my childhood Sunday School teachers. You see, as a child, I had no trouble believing the bodily resurrection of Jesus.  I had the faith of a child -- a faith that said if God decided to raise Jesus from the dead, then it was done.

My urgent question was: “Where is he? Where is Jesus? If Jesus is alive [as I knew he was] then where is he NOW?” The answer: “He’s in heaven” didn’t help me out. I was old enough to have some sense that this heaven where Jesus was, was somehow different than the sky. But … but … more than that, I knew that, if Jesus was alive, he wasn’t out in space hanging out on some faraway planet somewhere. I knew -- somehow I knew -- that Jesus was a lot closer than that because Jesus loved me -- THIS I did know. I also found out that there are only so many of those hard questions that a Sunday School teacher will tolerate before she loses her cool. I grew up somehow holding onto “Jesus Loves Me” even when, at times, my Sunday School teachers seemed to have run out of love in the form of patience.

Friday Five: Word Associations

Songbird, who blogs at Reflectionary, just got back from a most excellent vacation. Today, as host of RevGalBlogPals Friday Five, she foldly remembers five words from that vacation and invites us to play "Word Association"!  Great idea!  Here are those words, with the first word that came to my mind: 

1) Airport - adventure

2) Baseball - Rangers

3) Art - children

4) Chocolate - heaven

5) Grill - party

Bonus: Tell us a story that comes to mind based on one of the word pairs.

ART - CHILDREN:  In my family of origin, there was not much emphasis on art.  We were all about the academics (dad was a high school principal, mom an English teacher) and I graduated from college as a science major, to become a med tech not a pastor, and thinking of "art" as an exotic thing for people who are not like me.

And then there were children!  I was blessed to be able to be a stay-at-home mom of three.  A most excellent thing about these children were that they were very responsive to play of all kinds.  Because it seemed like a fun thing to do, I kept an abundance of art supplies in the house, and on any given day, we were playing with play dough or finger painting or decorating the patio with sidewalk chalk.  My role was mostly the boundary-setter, encourager / art appreciator and cleaner-upper leader.

One day, I found the older two (at about ages 6 and 5) underneath the dining room table, painting the underside, Sistine Chapel style, with two bottles of White-Out liquid paper and the little brushes that come with it.

They are all grown up now, and all three are uniquely gifted artists and art savvy beyond what I ever could have imagined.  All are gifted writers.  All are culturally literate beyond my leading.  One is a beautiful dancer and draws; one is a writer by vocation (and does things that combine math and art!); and one has a great blog, crochets, and creates in the kitchen. 

I still keep art supplies handy, for any children who happen along and also for me.  Sometimes a girl just needs to get out the crayons or the water colors and have some fun!

Friday Five: Joy of Friendship

The RevGalBlogPals Friday Five today is about friendship:

Who is the first friend you remember from childhood?  During my preschool days, Yvonne and I were inseparable at school.  One day, she walked in front of someone who was swinging and got kicked in the head and there was blood and she had to leave school suddenly.  Happier memories involved field trip days and our first experiences of going on a "trip" with packed lunches.

Have you ever received an unexpected gift from a friend?  A friend gave me a going away party when we moved from Philadelphia to Dallas.  The party itself -- of young women from our Sunday School class -- was a huge gift, though not unexpected.  The unexpected gifts were that each woman had embroidered a tea towel for me.  (Remember:  Young women, Dallas, luncheon party, in the mid-80s!)  The most unexpected and long-remembered gift was when she played the then-new song "Friends are Friends Forever" and we all cried together.

Is there an old friend you wish you could find again? Or have you found one via social media or the Internet?  Yes to the first question.  There are a couple of people I wouldn't mind finding again, including the women at the party I mentioned above, but I'm not looking for them, either.  To the second question:  Many of our high school friends are reconnecting via Facebook and have had a couple of get-togethers that I have been unable to attend so far.  There is a plan for us to gather for our (*cough*) 40th high school reunion next year, but in a location far, far from any official reunion function(s). 

Do you like to get your good friends together in a group, or do you prefer your friends one on one?  Slight preference for one-on-one.

Does the idea of Jesus as a friend resonate with you?  Yes, among a host of other images.

Back to School Book Week: Cookbooks

My first cookbook

Eren at This Vintage Chica cooked up Back to School Book Week and today is Cookbook Day.

I share with you my very first cookbook.  I still have this 1957 edition of Betty Crocker's Cook Book for Boys and Girls that I must've received on some birthday in the early 60's.  My favorite recipe was the Whiz Cinnamon Rolls ("sweet and spicy and so pretty") and I made them every chance I got.  Thus began my love of cinnamon rolls and the joy of cooking as a young child.

I have an odd memory about those cinnamon rolls.  One Saturday, we went over to my dad's parents' house for breakfast.  There must have been a special reason, because Saturday was not a day that we ever went over there, and never for breakfast.  Sensing it was a special day, I got up extra early to make my cinnamon rolls to take along.  I distinctly remember my dad apologizing for the cinnamon rolls, and I remember my grandmother being totally delighted with them!

This is a small picture of a great big generational change that happened during those years.  For my parents' generation, there were wonderful new choices of new, packaged, ready-made things -- like cinnamon rolls -- that were more uniform and predictable and certainly easier than my modest home-baked offering.  For my grandparents' generation, nothing was pre-packaged, not even the Bisquick that was the main ingredient of my "from scratch" cinnamon rolls.

Friday Five: De/Re/Clutter

RevGalBlogPals throw out (so to speak) a Friday Five about clutter.


But first, a story:  I discovered the magic of being a "clutter-holic" when I was a child in my grandmother's attic-like garage.  After Sunday dinner, during "adult conversation time," we grandchildren amused ourselves by going out to the garage and going through her stuff -- trash to some, endless treasure to us. One year, we accidentally found the yet-unwrapped Christmas presents.  


Another time, we uncovered the not-so-well-hidden box of my uncle's treasures from his military days.  This picture reminds me of our best find -- a two-foot tall wooden naked (except for her grass skirt) Hawaiian girl who sported red Christmas lights where her nipples would have been.  Oh -- yes, indeed-y -- when she was plugged in, she danced (I believe) and her "girls" lit up (most definitely)!  The adults then would confiscate her, chastise us, and then put her somewhere else.  Then, the game every week became finding where they had hidden the floozy we named "Jezebel." 


1. What things do you like to hang on to?  Books and papers

2. What is hard to let go of?  Books and papers

3. What is easy to give away?  Clothes are easier than anything else

4. Is there any kind of stumbling block connected with cleaning out?  I don't want something to "go to waste" so it's easier if I know that I can give things to someone who will use them.

5. What do you like to collect, hoard, or admire?  Books, doilies, glass things, sentimental things, photos

Bonus: Tell us about recycling or whatever you can think of that goes along with this muttering about cluttering.

I would love to tell you about my worm composting, but I haven't actually started that ... yet!

Friday Five: Grandmother Memories

RevGalBlogPals are taking a trip down memory lane today.  As a new grandmother, I would like to honor my own grandmothers with memories of treasured moments of grandmothers -- past, present, and future.

Flowers from my mother's garden

A treasured memory from childhood:
We called my dad's mother "Lollie."  She made my sister and me matching Easter dresses every year.  I remember feeling unfairly tortured with pins sticking me all over during the dreaded fitting.  I also remember my dad taking movies of every Easter egg hunt around, and in, Lollie's beautiful gardens.

A teenage memory:
My mom's mom was "Deedie" to everyone since childhood, as she was the oldest of 10 children who had difficulty pronouncing "Lydia."  When I was 13, I endured the tragedy (to me, then) of a family move from El Paso to Baton Rouge.  It was like moving to a strange country, and we moved in March, at the end of the school year.  I was beyond bereft.  My parents wisely suggested that I might want to make a summer trip (my first pilgrimage?) back to visit Deedie, and they said I could stay as long as I wanted to stay.  I spent six blessed weeks with her, learning how to sew, visiting homebound people from her church, canning plum jam from the fruit of her trees, getting hooked on my first soap opera, and staying up past 8:00 every night to watch the Tonight Show with her.  My parents finally had to call and insist I come home!

A young adult memory:
When I was 24, my mother became a grandma for the first time when my son was born.  I loved sharing my newborn children and my new mommy feelings with her.  She wanted to be called "Gran Gran" as her maternal grandmother had been to her.  My mother is a wonderful grandmother.  All of her grandchildren have made regular pilgrimages to the fantasy world fondly known as "Camp Gran Gran."