Living Lyrics

This week I have been attending the ECHO Agricultural Conference, a gathering of people from all over the world who are interested in the development of third world countries through agriculture.  What a fascinating group of about 250 people are assembled from all continents!

Presentations to the entire group have occupied the mornings, while dozens of educational sessions have been offered during the afternoons and evenings.  My background is not in agriculture.  (I am tagging along with my husband who has been making presentations on drip irrigation.)  However, there has been plenty to stimulate my curiosity, from a hands on workshop in use of fruits and vegetables not typical to the American diet, to a presentation on the nutritional benefits of trace elements.

I have greatly enjoyed lectures which focused on big picture concepts.  As Americans our hearts are moved with compassion by a disaster we hear of in another country, and we open our wallets.  Too frequently we do not consider that we may do harm through aid that goes on too long, and that does not morph into development.

The benefit of this conference to me, however, has gone beyond the intellectual.  I have met real people who grapple with real issues, and who are expending their lives in service to others and to God.  While not all attendees share the same commitment to Christ, most do.  The morning devotional time has been very moving.  One morning included a tribute to the man whose vision brought ECHO into being.  Another morning included a tribute to a young woman, who had been an intern at ECHO, and who was killed in northern Afghanistan this past year while serving the people there.

It was humbling to stand in this group and hear them sing these words together:

You are the God of the broken

The friend of the weak

You wash the feet of the weary

Embrace the ones in need

And I want to be like you, Jesus

To have this heart in me

You are the God of the humble

You are the humble King

Oh, kneel me down again

Here at Your feet

Show me how much You love

Humility

Oh spirit be the star

That leads me to

The humble heart of love

I see in You

It is one thing to hear these words sung by a group of Americans who live a comfortable middle class life.  It is quite another to hear the words from the mouths of those who have actually been in difficult circumstances living out the lyrics.

Sunday Morning Adventure

Normally my husband and I attend a different church than his parents do.  However, this morning they wanted to go to our church, because we were having a special missionary speaker.  They know her personally and were anxious to see her.


My husband is out of town on a business trip, so picking them up and transporting them to church was my responsibility.  My father-in-law is 93 and a bit unsteady on his feet.  My mother-in-law is 92 and terribly unsteady, to the point that if she goes outside of the house, it is in a wheelchair.  They should not be trying to live on their own any more, but that is another story.


In any event, I arrived to pick them up in plenty of time, and they were ready.  My mother-in-law was just getting into the wheelchair at the back door, and my father-in-law was "in control" of the situation.  He dislikes situations in which he is not in control.  He had hold of the wheelchair, so I closed and locked the doors.  Meantime, he was pushing my mother-in-law down the ramp.  Hmmm....actually gravity was taking her down the ramp and he was "skating" behind.  It had snowed overnight and the ramp was slick.  I could see him going faster and faster, but couldn't do anything about it.  By the time they reached the flat ground at the bottom, he was literally hanging on for dear life and sliding behind her as if there were runners on his shoes.


We got her settled in the car and while I was buckling her in, he attempted to put the wheelchair in the trunk.  He was unable to do this....should that be a surprise?  Can most 93 year-olds sling a wheelchair in the back of a car?  I finished the job.


Off we went.  I heard some rustling in the back seat.  Usually I pick up my granddaughter, but she was not going this morning.  I said that she wouldn't be coming, but my father-in-law had not heard me, so he was busy trying to make room for her.  There was a brunch after the service this morning, and I had placed a French toast casserole on the back seat.  In the bag with it was a container of raspberry sauce to go on top. He was tipping the bag this way and that trying to make room on the seat for another passenger.  He, of course, had no knowledge as to what was in the bag.  Fortunately, I saw what was happening and caught him before the sauce spilled.


On the way, my mother-in-law commented that we have an awfully long drive to church.  I said that we really didn't find it to be too bad.  The time goes quickly because we listen to Ravi Zacharias on the radio every Sunday morning.  My mother-in-law is both somewhat deaf and easily confused.  
"What," she said, "you mean you've had Ravi Zacharias preach at your little church!"
"No, no....we listen to him on the radio."   
Chuckle, chuckle to myself. (However, I have met Ravi Zacharias, and although he speaks internationally, he is wonderful, humble, man of God, who would gladly speak anywhere God called him to as many or as few as were present.)


When we arrived, I insisted on taking the wheelchair up the ramp.  A friend was out spreading salt on the ramp and called to me that the ramp was glare ice at the top.  I did not want to find out if my father-in-law could skate backwards, so I controlled the situation.


The service and brunch were uneventful.  I know my in-laws couldn't hear much of it, because of the questions they asked the speaker during the brunch.  But, that's OK.  They were happy to be there.


On the way home, my mother-in-law said a disgusted tone, "Humpf!  There were two men sitting at the organ during the service, but I don't think either one of them played it."
Trying to keep a straight face, I explained that they were not sitting at the organ.  The sound system is behind the organ.  One of the men was running the sound system.  The other is his son, who is slow mentally, and sticks tight to his dad during the service.  She should have been able to see the sound system from where she was seated, but apparently couldn't process what she saw.


I helped them in the house and left some food that wasn't eaten at the brunch with them.  Now I am home drinking hot tea.  I have a nasty cold, and everything I said to them this morning had to be repeated about 3 times, until I was finally shouting and straining my already sore throat.  But, I am smiling at the amusing little slice of my life that this morning represents.

The Suppliants by Aeschylus

The next installment in my quest to read “The Great Books” is a group of plays by Aeschylus.  Last night I read “The Suppliant Maidens.”  The forward tells me that this play was written about 490 BC.  Unfortunately, 2500 years later there are places in the world where the difficulty on which the drama hinges is still prevalent.

Daughters of Danaus have fled their home in Egypt in order to avoid being forced to marry men they do not love.  Their father supports them in their refusal and has accompanied them to the land of the Pelasgians.  Poor King Pelasgus is not anxious to get into a battle with the Egyptians.  His attitude is that he did not go looking for this problem and doesn’t want to be forced into protecting these young women.  The maidens, who comprise a chorus for the purposes of the play, plead with him to be the “ally of Justice and not Law.”

King Pelasgus apparently rules by the will of the people, so he must consult them before rendering a decision.  Fortunately for the maidens, the people are on the side of “Justice,” and agree to allow them to live in their city and under their protection.

The Egyptians arrive.  A confrontation ensues.  The Egyptians leave and the maidens enter the safety of the city.

Interestingly, now that they are not in jeopardy, the chorus of maidens breaks into different groups with seemingly dissenting opinions.  One group adamantly speaks against forced marriage.  Another group wonders at the possibility of a dreaded marriage ending up blissfully.  A group points out that God’s will (meaning, in this case, the will of Zeus) will prevail and that his purposes cannot be discerned.

“Can I look into the unfathomable deep?

Due measure when thou prayest thou should’st keep.

Where lies the mark that may not be o’ertrod?

Search not too far the purposes of God.”

The chorus concludes the play with:

“It contents me then, whate’er

The judgment which the Gods approve

If there be embodied there

Justice which my prayers could move.”

So….

Are they hoping for a relationship with God?

Do they believe that God can be moved by our prayers?

What is the balance between acceptance of God’s will and pleading our case before Him?

We are still grappling with these issues.

As a Christian, I believe in the ministry of the Holy Spirit in our lives when we pray.  I believe that He can guide us into praying within the will of God.  The Bible is also clear that He intercedes for us when we are struggling so intensely with an issue that we can’t figure out what to pray.  He interprets the agony of soul for which we cannot find words.  “The mark that may not be o’ertrod” may be unclear to us, but the Holy Spirit knows its exact location.  

I am trusting Him.

The Cardinal Pair

One of the delights we inherited from the prior owners of our home are bird feeders.  Three of them are positioned with a rope and pulley system, such as is more typically used to hang clothes for drying.  One feeder contains mixed seed, one thistle and one sunflower seeds.


Adjacent to the bird feeders is the bird "motel."  A large cedar-type evergreen apparently houses multiple nests.  Birds dart in and out of the protection of its branches with speed and agility.  The occupants of the "motel" include a pair of cardinals.


Mrs. Cardinal is mostly brown, but does have some red which is most apparent when she is flying.  When she comes to the feeder for sunflower seeds, she sits primly and somewhat angled so that she can easily look back towards her home.  Since she and Mr. Cardinal never seem to be at the feeder at the same time, I think she is looking back wondering what he is up to in her absence.  She has no problem sharing the perch in front of the feeder with small birds of other species.  I have never seen her behave as anything other than an lady.


Mr. Cardinal, on the other hand, is both vain and aggressive.  He perches in front of the sunflower seeds looking at himself in the glass on the front of the feeder.  He is beautiful with his red feathers and jaunty topknot...and he knows it.  He refuses to share his space with any of the other birds.  When he isn't admiring himself, he is looking this way and that, ready to peck at any bird who dares to try to eat at his table.


The prior owners of our home relate that the cardinals have an interesting mating ritual in the spring, involving the need for Mr. to crack a seed for Mrs. and present it to her.  We, however, have yet to see them eat at the same time.


In watching the cardinals, I have pondered innate personality traits.  I have even wondered if my family of origin is related to Mr. Cardinal somehow.  I have some male relatives who can't pass a mirror without looking at themselves.  

Thanksgiving 2010

They gathered from coast to coast...literally, a son from California and a daughter from Maine.  Two came by plane, four by train and the rest by car or van.  The one who was supposed to come by bus, decided not to come, but called late in the day.  The two eldest attendees got lost, having only been to our new home once before, and drove all the way back to their home to call and ask for directions.  Most came in by the front door, but the two who are in wheelchairs and their family members came in through the garage on the newly built ramp.  Eighteen of us in all circled the Thanksgiving table this year.  The youngest was three and the oldest was ninety-three.


We snacked on shrimp and raw veggies before the meal.  Then we gathered at the table and held hands while the ninety-three year old said the blessing before we dug into turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes topped with toasted marshmallows, green beans, gelatin salad with lemon and blueberry layers, white and whole wheat home-made rolls, and of course, pies....lemon, pumpkin, pecan, raspberry and apple.  The entire main course was nut and dairy free in deference to the highly allergic person present.  Two of the pies were also safe for him.


The kids played with the toys in the family room and dragged boxes up to the living room too.  The floor was eventually covered with blocks and books and cars and play jewelry.  A great deal of silliness ensued when the bunny slippers of one of the adults became real bunnies for the kids to interact with.  The adults talked. Attempts were made to solve some of the world's problems.  I'm not sure if anyone watched football.  Two of the young adult males kept sneaking away to play a game on the computer.


Eventually those living near-by went home.  The children were put to bed.  Some of the adults stayed up catching up on each others lives.  I sank into bed about 9 o'clock totally exhausted.  My day had begun early, stuffing the turkey, while I watched a glorious red-sky sunrise visible from the kitchen window.  The day ended with my legs throbbing.  I had a hard time getting them comfortable enough to relax and drift into a restorative sleep.  


Thanksgiving 2010 has come and gone.  I am thankful.

A Love Story

I just finished creating a family picture wall.  In the center I placed an 8X10 of my husband and me.  To the right are 5X7s of our four children and further to the right 4X6s of our grandchildren.  To the left are 5X7s of our parents and then, 4X6s of our grandparents.  Although all of the frames are not identical, they all have some gold on them.  I painted directly on the wallpaper with gold paint to connect the frames with branching vines and leaves.  I am very pleased with the result.

Sorting through the pictures in order to find usable ones the correct size was interesting.  I did have to do some scanning and printing out to achieve the uniformity I wanted.  I could not find wedding pictures of all of our grandparents, so, in some cases, I used individual pictures of the couple placed in the same frame.

As I ponder the wedding pictures, I see very different poses and facial expressions.  My son and his wife are in profile, both smiling happily with their noses and foreheads touching.  I have other pictures of them, but I like that one because in the touching of their foreheads, I see the synergy of two brilliant minds. 

In my own wedding picture, my husband has picked me up and stands in a doorway, as though he is carrying me off.  We are both laughing.

My husband’s parents are posed in front of the home that was just built for them.  They are still living in that home together 72 years later.  My own parents stand in front of the fireplace in my grandparents living room with their hands clasped together at their sides.  My mother is beautiful and radiant.  My father stands tall in his military attire, but only the slightest smile plays on his lips.  They were married during World War II while he was home on a 3-day pass.  The uncertainty of the future can be seen in his eyes and brow.

The most fascinating of the pictures for me is the one of my mother’s parents.  I don’t know the date of their wedding, but I suppose it was in the range of 1910 to 1912.  They are seated together on a bench, not really touching, but leaning towards each other.  My grandmother’s dress is white with a high collar, long sleeves, and a cinched in waist.  The bodice appears to have numerous vertical tucks.  Her hat is very elaborate and covered with flowers, but she holds only a tiny sprig of flowers in her graceful hand.  She is a very beautiful, slender woman with delicate features, but she is not smiling.  Grandpa wears a three-piece suit with a tie and has no hint of a smile.  I wonder at the thoughts and emotions they were experiencing that day.  I have no idea if they were “in love” at that point.

My grandmother had an older sister who was married and had a child.  When her sister became very ill and knew she was dying, she begged my grandmother to care for her little son.  Grandma promised that she would.  When the time came, however, Grandma was afraid to move into the home of her brother-in-law to care for the child.  The man had a reputation for being a “womanizer,” and she was fearful that moving into his home would ruin her own reputation.  People did care about such things 100 years ago.  My grandfather married her, so that they could move into the home as a married couple, and she would not have to fear what might be said about her.  Obviously, they must have been friends at that point, but the marriage came about when it did out of compassion and duty.  I wonder as I look at their wedding picture, if that is what I see in their faces.

My grandfather turned out to be a prince.  His care for his wife and the family they eventually had themselves was exceptional.   He died at the age of 65, and Grandma died a year later.  Just prior to her death, she commented that the doctor said she had had a heart attack, but she knew the truth.  Her heart had broken a year earlier when she lost Grandpa.

Whatever I think I see in the wedding picture, somehow turned into a life-long love.  I wish that amazing combination of compassion, commitment, and love could be caught in a bottle and sprinkled on all generations of our family yet to come.

Random Thoughts on The Odyssey

During the odyssey of my life over the past few weeks, I have read The Odyssey.  Although I have found it much more appealing than The Iliad and was genuinely interested in getting Ulysses back home to Penelope, I still managed to put it down long enough to read two other books. 

The Odyssey contains non-stop action, which fortunately does not mean non-stop battle such as is found in The Iliad.  Now, don’t get me wrong, there is still non-stop death and gore.  It is just not all on the battlefield with swords and spears.  No, in The Odyssey, people are eaten alive by Cyclops.

Homer uses some interesting literary devices.  Portions of Ulysses’ story are told in flashbacks.  That is a familiar technique.  What I thought was interesting was that on occasions scattered throughout the book, the story-teller addresses characters in the story.  For example, “Then, Oh, so-and-so, did you reply blah-blah-blah.”  I can’t think of another book I have read that uses this technique. …with the exception of some passages in the Old Testament.   I assume the translator opted for being true to the original.

I guess this is probably a cultural thing, but I can’t imagine allowing those “suitors” to hang around for years.  If I had been Penelope, I would have had none of that nonsense.  I would have taken control of the estate myself.  She had lots of resources.  Surely she could have hired some men to protect her and her possessions.  I guess women in that era just didn’t do such things, and I would not have fit in well during that time frame. (I am actually not clear on what era women like me do fit into.   I not sure it’s even the era in which I’m living.)

The role of the gods in The Odyssey is not quite as offensive as in The Iliad.  In The Iliad the gods are running around creating mayhem and fighting with each other.  In The Odyssey, Minerva is heavily involved in Ulysses’ fate, but at least there is not continuous meddling by the other gods.

Homer does a pretty decent job of not being obnoxiously repetitive, considering that Ulysses must tell his story to a number of people on his journey home.  I discovered that I couldn’t jump over these passages, as Ulysses did not always tell the same story.  He is given to spinning some tall tales for effect.  The repetition I did become weary of was “the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn” appearing.  An occasional “at daybreak” or “when the sun came up” might have been nice for variety.

So much for my random thoughts on The Odyssey. 

The other two books I have read recently are The Confession by John Grisham and My Viet Nam, a self-published book of stories from the Viet Nam War era, written by Charlotte Stemple.  I recommend both.  I do not recommend either The Iliad or The Odyssey for enjoyment in reading.  Both are tedious.   But, if you are looking for an exercise in mental discipline, they are worthy.