Kitchen or Chemistry Lab--Details Matter!

Today I am working on a Boston Cream Pie for my husband’s birthday.  It is his favorite.  I made the filling from scratch.  One of the steps is adding a mixture which has been boiled for one minute into a slightly beaten egg yolk.  Then putting that mixture back in the pan and boiling it for another minute.  If you don’t understand the reasoning behind this, you might think “that’s silly!”  I’ll just add the egg yolk right into the boiling mixture….why be dumping things back and forth?”  If you were to do that, you would not end up with a nice rich sauce.  You would end up with a milky sauce with chunks of cooked egg floating around.  Direction of addition matters.

It made me think about my days in college as a chemistry major.  The second semester of organic chemistry most students could take a regular lab session, but majors had to do something called “Special Preps.”  We would go to the professor’s office and be given an index card with the name of the compound we were supposed to create.  This might also include the reagents available to us.  We would then have to research in the chemistry library and determine how this substance had been previously made, check out with the professor if we were on the right track, and then hit the lab to create the compound.

On one of these occasions, I researched the substance I was assigned, and discovered the only place in the literature where it was recorded was in a Russian journal.  I do not speak Russian.  I went to see my professor.  He knew that is what I would discover, but he wanted me to go through the process.  He then handed me another index card on which he had written the translation from the Russian journal.

I assembled my equipment and followed the directions carefully.  This involved carrying out the procedure in “the hood” where I was shielded, and any resulting gases would be safely exhausted.  The main flask in which the reaction would occur was packed in ice, so obviously I was supposed to expect an exothermic reaction.  I was not expecting an explosion, but that is what I got.  The reaction was so violent that it blew the glass stoppers out of the equipment.  What was left in the flask was a stringy mess of a polymer.  I knew I was not supposed to get a polymer.  A liquid was expected, and I knew at what approximate temperature it should come off and condense.

Thinking maybe I had inadvertently added too much, I ran the reaction a second time.  This time I was careful to add only one drop of the reagent to the one in the main flask.  The result was similar.  I now suspected that the direction of addition should be reversed.  Instead of adding Reagent B to Reagent A, I should be added A to B.  But, the professor’s translation said B to A.  Did I really want to confront the professor with the notion, he had translated incorrectly?  I tried a third time with the same results.

I took a deep breath and went to the professor’s office.  I told him I was getting polymer, and as diplomatically as possible, I asked if perhaps the direction of addition was reversed in the translation.  He readily agreed that was probably the case.

I returned to the lab and tried the fourth time.  This time adding A to B.  Much to my delight, I did not get a polymer, but a liquid which boiled off and condensed at the predicted temperature.  The professor was delighted with my results, and I learned something important.

Transferred to the kitchen, it means do not add egg to a hot liquid.  Add small amounts of the hot liquid to the egg, so that the egg doesn’t cook and is heated up gradually.  We haven’t eaten the Boston Cream Pie yet, but I licked the spoon after making the filling, and it is yummy!  I definitely never licked anything in the chemistry lab!

Finally Giving It Up

My license as a registered nurse expires this month, and I have decided not to renew it.  I took the licensing exam in Illinois in the fall of 1965.  The next year, I was licensed in New York by reciprocity.  Early in my career, I put myself through college.  I worked in 4 different hospitals and in a doctors’ office during the first 5 years after graduating from nursing school.  In 1969, after teaching high school biology for a year, I began teaching nursing at a junior college and also became a guest lecturer in an EMT program.  I eventually gave those lectures in 3 different counties and my notes were used by someone else in a 4^th county.

In 1972, we adopted our first child and a year later had our first biological child. I decided to “retire” for awhile.  I pictured this as being until children were in school.  I diligently renewed my license and kept up with all the required continuing education.  About the time when a return to work should have happened, I got a call from a local director of nursing.  She said she had three key job openings, and any one I wanted was mine for the taking.  However, one of our daughters had significant behavioral problems.  I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with a babysitter.  There was too much possibility of things getting out of control.

In 1983, we adopted another daughter who had a physical disability.  There were several issues that had not been dealt with while she was in foster care, and I knew that adopting her was a commitment on my part to continue at home.

As the girls got into their teenage years, I thought the possibility of reentering a career might be on the horizon.  I decided to work on a master’s degree in adult education.  The courses were being taught right in our small city as an extension from Syracuse University in a weekend scholar format.  This seemed quite doable.  I could see multiple ways that adult education interfaced with my previous experience as a nurse and as a teacher.

Then in 1986, my husband and I had a major surprise.  I became pregnant.  I thought that was fine, because I could complete the master’s program, and the expected child would go to kindergarten about the time our daughters left the nest.  I could go back to work then!

Well…another surprise.  The son we had was unusual.  We could not see any way he was going to fit with the school system.  He began playing Monopoly at the age of 3 years and 9 months and taught himself to read, because it was necessary to read the cards in order to play the game.  He also insisted on being the banker and had no difficulty in making change.  I thought at first, we might be able to send him to school, but when he did 1/3 of the years work in a kindergarten math book in one sitting, I could see my thinking was faulty.  I figured I was stuck for 13 years until I homeschooled him through high school.  I did, however, hold out enough hope, that I continued to renew my license and keep up with continuing education.

When our son was 13, he informed us he wanted to start taking college courses.  When he was 14, he made it clear, he intended to go full-time.  Ha!  I still had a few good years left in me.  The time had finally come!

Because I was by this time in my mid 50s and age discrimination is real, it took me awhile to find a job.  If my clinical skills had been current, I’m sure I could have found a job more easily.  But, although I had maintained my license, I knew I would be totally unfamiliar with equipment and procedures in the clinical area.  I eventually found a job at a small rural hospital that required background health care knowledge, but nothing more clinical than taking blood pressures.  By this time, I had also developed essential tremor which is inherited from my mother’s family, and I could not consider doing anything with needles.  

The job I ended up with was ideal.  I began by coordinating the hospital’s participation in a prostate cancer research program which was NCI funded.  After the initial phase of that program, I had time to do other things, and I began coordinating all of the hospital’s outreach programming.  It was a wonderful job with lots of variety.

When I became 65, I decided to “retire.”  We were downsizing and I needed time to organize and clean out for the move.  After that was accomplished, I worked for awhile part-time doing outreach for the NYS Cancer Service Program in our county.

When I stopped doing that, I became a part-time tutor of high school subjects.  That obviously didn’t require a nursing license, but I still maintained it…because you just never know.

So, I will be 75 this month.  Although the current Covid-19 pandemic and crisis caused me to get 3 emails from Governor Cuomo requesting that I inform him whether I am available to return to work, I don’t see that happening.  I am living in Florida, have had a respiratory illness myself recently, and that annoying hand tremor is popping up in all sorts of unsettling ways.

So…I’ve made this difficult decision.  I am not going to renew my license.  It was earned with sweat and tears and hard work.  It provided me with employment when I needed it most.  But, it isn’t just the license that makes one a nurse.  That is a part of me that is integral to who I am as a person. 

Life Changing Choice

I have been thinking recently how one decision I made when I was only seven years old has changed the whole course of my life.  I asked Jesus to be my Savior in a very personal way on November 2, 1952.  Years later my mother told me that there was a definite change in my life from that time on.  As I grew older and began making decisions about education and career path and marriage partner, my commitment to look for and follow God’s guidance was the defining factor in my life.

If I had not accepted Jesus into my heart and life, I quite probably would have chosen a different career.  I would have had no reason to consider the nursing school affiliated with a Christian college.  I probably would have attended a school in New York State as multiple scholarships were available to me if I stayed in New York.  Would I have become a nurse, or would I have pursued some other interest?  I was interested in most everything other than law and politics.  My guidance counselor had told me, given his awareness of my aptitude testing and grades, he could recommend me to any school in the country to study any subject I pleased.  He had also encouraged me to apply for a scholarship available at our high school for someone intending to be a medical doctor.  What would I have done?

In any event, I would have probably already had a bachelor’s degree by 1966, so I would have been out on my own.  I would not have moved to Watertown with my parents between college years in the summer of ’66.  I certainly would not have gone to church with them there, so I would not have met my husband.  If I had met him, nothing would have come of it.  He never dated anyone who did not at least profess to be a Christian.  He certainly would not have married someone in whom that faith was not genuine.

So…our biological children would not exist.  Our adopted children would exist somewhere in the world probably.  The child we adopted as an infant has said that her biological mother might have killed her, but perhaps someone else would have adopted her, and she would be somewhere.  The daughter we adopted at age 11 might or might not have survived.  Her case worker told me that without us, she would have eventually been placed in an institution.  If they had both lived and grown up elsewhere, none of our grandchildren would exist.  Our daughters would not have grown up in Watertown, made the decisions they made, and had the children they have had.  Of our eleven grandchildren, the only one who would be in the world is the one who is actually a step-grandchild, although we think of him as fully ours.  The lives of our son-in-law and daughter-in-law would have played out differently.  In fact, many lives would have been different.

I cannot begin to imagine how many lives have been impacted by a choice I made at the age of 7.  I stand in awe of a God who can speak so directly to the heart and mind of a child.  I don’t know quite how he brought me at such a young age to a deep understanding that I was powerless to change things in my life on my own, but I am grateful.  I really don’t want to imagine where I would be without Him.  I do know that during at least three time periods in my life, I could have easily succumbed to despair.  I clung to Jesus to give meaning to my life.  I have no desire to live outside of His loving guidance.  To whom would I go?

John 6: 66-69  …many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.  “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.  Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Thoughts on Homeschooling

I find the many comments about homeschooling that are currently circulating quite interesting.  Many of them are meant to be funny.  People don’t really intend to lock their kids in the basement or duct tape them to the wall…. I hope!

I spent a total of 16 years homeschooling my four kids for varying lengths of time.  Two of my daughters were only homeschooled 3 years…from 6^th to 8^th grade.  One was in homeschooling 6 years…from 5^th through 10^th grade.  My son never went to public school.  He started kindergarten at home when he was 4 and went to college part-time when he was 13.  That year, I homeschooled subjects he was not taking at the junior college.  At 14, he took college courses full-time, and my homeschooling came to an end.

Although it required a great deal of organization and self-discipline, I enjoyed homeschooling and felt it improved relationships with the kids.  When they were in public school, the girls would come home with upsets and frustrations.  They were not in a mood to be helped with homework.  In contrast, homeschool allowed me to deal with any educational problems during the day as they occurred.  Frustration did not build throughout the day.  By late afternoon, instead of walking in the door and dumping the days upsets on me, they were finished with their work and ready to go out and play or visit with friends or have a quiet time by themselves.  Everyone’s moods were better.

They also quickly learned that if they got their work done before lunch, we could do other things.  During the winter months, this included regular trips to the ice arena to skate.  We could also travel.  We sometimes rented an RV, packed up the schoolwork and accompanied my husband on business trips.  Some days we would stay in an RV park and do schoolwork while he made business calls.  Other days we went on educational adventures.  We visited historical and educational sites in Boston, Philadelphia and Washington DC.  We also enjoyed beaches and tourist attractions in Florida.  Our son traveled with us many times, including a “field trip” to the Alamo and the Fire-fighters Hall of Flame.  When the girls returned to public school, they sometimes commented on being the only one in their social studies class who had seen some of the historical places they were studying.

In the current environment, traveling around isn’t possible and get togethers with friends aren’t safe either.  But, having spent the school hours with their parents, I think most children will be ready to do something on their own.

If you are new to homeschooling, don’t put yourself under pressure to work with your kids the entire time of normal school hours.  A lot of time is wasted during a traditional school day.  Your child should be able to complete their lessons in much less time than the length of a school day.  So, give them and yourself some breaks.  Let them explore some of their own interests.  Allow them to learn from things that are typically done around the house.  It’s OK for them to help with household chores.  Teach them to do laundry, to sew on a button, to cook and bake.  Encourage them to plant some seeds and watch their progress.

Make use of online resources.  The material available online now seems almost limitless.  Maybe you don’t understand some math concept they are studying, but I can guarantee there is some online site that is explaining it better than their usual teacher could.  There are loads of documentaries available to reinforce lessons in history.  Let them explore maps…. knowledge of geography seems to be woefully lacking these days.  

Don’t put yourself under too great a burden with homeschooling!  During daily life, teach your kids what you yourself know.  It doesn’t have to seem like a lesson…just talk to them.  Answer their questions.  Young children ask many, many questions.  Don’t let this annoy you.  It’s a compliment that they think you know the answers!  As they get older, they want to debate and discuss.  Don’t be threatened by this.  They may disagree with you to your face, but actually accept your opinions.

Enjoy these days.  They won’t last forever.  One day you will be an old grandma or grandpa sitting in your retirement community apartment reminiscing.  That’s what I am doing.

All is Forgiven

I was angry with my Christmas cactus, because it did not bloom for me at Christmas.  I had placed it in a dark closet and not watered it for the month of November which should have triggered it to start blooming, but nothing!  My African violet was covered with lovely purple flowers with white edges.  The orchid was full of blossoms, but the Christmas cactus let Christmas go by without any signs of color.

About 5 years ago, I had salvaged the plant from my in-laws’ home after they passed away.  It had not been cared for, other than being watered, for some time.  The pot it was in was too small and had been sitting on a windowsill.  This had caused the plant to develop unevenly…all to the right and left…nothing to the front or back.  It was so unbalanced that it fell over if it wasn’t leaning against the glass.  I put it in a much larger pot and allowed it to spread in all directions.  It cooperated and pleased me with blossoms.  Then I moved it to Florida with me.  Even though I had treated it well, it disappointed me at Christmas time.

I became very ill during the month of March with a respiratory infection.  I was ill for over 3 weeks, and because of the covid-19 concern, I was quarantined to my apartment.  I live in a beautiful community, but I was told not to leave my apartment even wearing a mask.  I could not go out for a walk or over to check our little garden plot.

In this time of isolation, my Christmas cactus decided to bloom…..and not just with a few blossoms.  It has burst forth with an abundance of exquisite blossoms.  The individual flowers have multiple petals and the pistil and stamens in the center of the flowers are delicate and beautifully arranged.  The plant has delighted and pleased me.  It brightens my long and rather boring days.

Its earlier failure is completely forgiven, because it has blossomed at precisely the right time.

It is the Best of Times...It is the Worst of Times

The fact that we are currently “locked in” with our family or perhaps with just a spouse will be a real blessing for some.  Some of us will look back on this as one of “the best of times.”  My family has been previously “quarantined” by blizzards and ice storms and a microburst.  We have played “survivor” for real, with life being pared down to the essentials...keeping the house warm, cooking food over a fire, lighting our way with candles and flashlights.  My family members actually have fond memories of those crazy times.

In the isolation we are now experiencing, we at least still have all our normal services to make life comfortable.  There are even ways to have groceries or meals delivered if we can’t go out at all.  We have electricity and internet, so we can watch television and browse the web to feel connected.  We have telephone service.  I remember the sadness with which I watched ice tear down the telephone lines.  Now we have cell phones not dependent on wires to the house.

The notion of spending days on end with only my husband is not the least bit upsetting.  We have been best friends for over 53 years…married for over 51 years.  We are both currently sick, but that doesn’t change our relationship.  We cough up our guts in unison and use the same spittoon.  Not sexy?  After all these years, we are past such worries.  We manage each day by doing what we each can do and hoping the other has the strength and energy to pick up the slack.  This, of course, means that dishes are sitting in the sink longer than normal, and meals are bare bones, if not take-out.  Neither of us has an appetite anyway.  Lacking energy and ambition, we collapse against each other on the sofa and watch dumb stuff we have already seen.

But, we will get through this because our relationship is based on love and respect and a commitment to each other’s well-being.   When we disagree, neither of us feels we have to “win” an argument.  We discuss and debate, but we don’t yell.  Neither of us says mean or hateful things.  The idea of hitting one another is unthinkable.

I fear that there are those for whom this may be “the worst of times.”  In homes where there is a tendency toward lashing out angrily and abusive behaviors, the tension of being isolated as a family may push things over the edge into spousal or parental abuse.  Mothers who can’t wait for summer vacation to end so they can send the kids back to school are now confronted with the need to oversee some semblance of education.  Many will be ill-prepared for this.  Children who are not used to their parents establishing limits may not want to cooperate.  Being out of work and the resulting financial difficulties will contribute to rising tensions between spouses.  If there is a tendency toward domestic abuse, there will be plenty of opportunity for it being triggered.

I can see the potential for all of this, but I feel powerless to do anything about it.  I live in a retirement community, so I am not near families who may be struggling.  Also…I am presently sick and avoiding contact with anyone.  I have laryngitis and can’t even talk on the phone for very long without coughing.  So, here I am, sitting on the shelf.  From this vantage point, I pray that those who are in need will find help, and that churches will find ways to reach into their communities.  It may be that during the worst of times, hearts and minds are more open to learning that the best of times comes from a relationship with a loving heavenly Father.

Taking the Wrong Advice

 Solomon’s kingdom was recognized throughout the known world for its splendor, and Solomon himself was recognized for his wisdom.  The Queen of Sheba had said, “…not even half the greatness of your wisdom was told me; you have far exceeded the report I heard.  How happy your men must be!” (II Chronicles 9:6-7)

 But it seems not everyone was happy.  The wealth described must have resulted from a burden of taxation and enforced labor.  When Solomon died and his son Rehoboam ascended to the throne, he was approached by a group of his subjects under the leadership of Jeroboam.  They requested that the “heavy yoke” placed on them by Solomon be lightened by Rehoboam.

Rehoboam did not answer immediately.  He asked that they return in three days for his answer.  This would have been to his credit, if he had used those days to pray for wisdom and to seek the counsel of godly men.

He asked the advice of two groups.  The first group was comprised of the elders who had served under his father.  They advised, “If you will be kind to these people and please them and give them a favorable answer, they will always be your servants.” 

Rehoboam should have stopped there.  It sounds as though he had already made up his mind in the other direction and was just looking for someone to agree with him.  He then went to the young men with whom he had grown up.  They offered the opposite advice.  He should, they said, answer harshly and tell his subjects, “My father laid on you a heavy yoke, I will make it even heavier.”

Rehoboam went with the advice of his young friends.  As a result, the kingdom was split.  Rehoboam ended up ruling only over the tribes of Judah and Benjamin.  The remaining ten tribes gave their allegiance to Jeroboam.

The wisdom with which Rehoboam’s grandfather David and father Solomon had ruled had been derived from God Himself.  David had remained in a constant relationship with God recognizing his sovereignty.  Although Solomon had in later life strayed from some of God’s commandments, he had on initially becoming king requested that God gift him with wisdom, and God had promised that He would grant that request.  Rehoboam apparently had no such inclinations.  He thought his young friends…his peers…could advise him.

It is heartbreaking to see a young person follow the lead of his/her peers rather than the wisdom of his elders or more importantly, the directives of the God who loves him.  This is all too common.  A young person does not want to believe that his parents have much to offer.  He desperately wants to go his own way.  He may ask advice, but he will keep asking until he finds someone who agrees with what he wants to do anyway.

How different for the young person who keeps his eyes fixed on Jesus and doing what is right in God’s sight…no matter how difficult.  God loves each of us as individuals and has a plan for each life.  It is His intent to bring blessing. 

The wisdom of Rehoboam’s father Solomon from Proverbs 3: 1,5,6  “My son…trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”

Advice not taken by Rehoboam.