Category Archives: Uncategorized

But only for severe situations.

My colleague asked today if my mom ever swears. I said that she sure does, but only in the most dire of circumstances. She jinxed us!

I wasn’t home from work for more than 15 minutes, and I hear my mom making not-so-fun noises in the kitchen. When I got there, she was saying the S word meaning doo doo and barely hanging on to a pan of bubbling hot lasagna. It was a frozen lasagna that she’d baked.

It first slid off of the cookie sheet she baked the pan on. So she moved the cookie sheet and picked up the pan of lasagna wearing two kitchen hot pads that are really giant mittens with near zero flexibility to move your fingers around the edges of anything. Then, we both watched in horror as the thing slipped (seemingly slowly, but actually with some serious zip) down onto the door, the crack between the door and the oven, and into the oven.

(I use “pan” loosely: it’s really a cardboard container that no longer holds its shape or contents once hot. We may never buy one of those again. We’re not much for cooking, and cleaning up is for the cleaning fairies that don’t ever visit our home.)

Oh, so not pretty. But I now wish I’d taken before and after photos. It took an hour or so to clean it, after waiting for the oven to cool down, but we managed to get it ALL cleaned up. And the oven now looks better than before it ever met that nasty lasagna.

Please, let’s not talk about when my mom swears again. Please.

My brother’s had a surprise that brought him both joy and sadness. A customer said this week that he remembers his sister Barbara and when she died.

This took the floor out from under him. This is the 60th year since she died of things we now vaccinate children for. She got German Measles that went into Encephalitis, and she passed from this earth in under two days.

He is sad because he has few memories of her, other than her dark hair and that she reminded him most of our dad. And there are few people left on earth who do remember our sister Barbara. Their mom died only a few years after Barbara, our dad passed on 13 years ago, and our parent’s generation that knew her from birth have nearly all moved on from this world.

But he was glad because someone does remember her. Someone who actually met her, played with her, and spent time with her … even if only in school. Because this man was about three years older than Barbara, his memories are better than my brother who was three years younger than Barbara.

Although I never knew her, I will always tell you that I am one of five children. I never met Barbara, and I miss my sister Cheri who passed on 24 years ago, but I still am one of five children. This is the same for my nieces and nephews. I will always tell you that I had seven, and six are still living.

My brother will take longer to tell you this, but only because six decades have not diminished the loss of first Barbara and then a few, short years later, his mom too. Learning to live without people can be done physically, but the emotional attachment never ends. And I don’t believe it should, because these people live on inside of us.

Just because someone has left this life, doesn’t mean they have left the hearts of those still here.

Today we held a craft fundraiser at church. A church friend had this great idea as a new possible fundraiser for the Missions Committee. We had a good weekend with friends working on our own or church projects, chatting together, and sharing a meal (and ice cream with ALL of the fixing, except bananas. We forgot the bananas – oops!).

Over the two days, we encountered just some of the people in the church who use their works to make faith happen.

• Marsha came as a participant of the fundraising effort, but instead of working on her own project, she spent an hour first doing office work for the church and then her craft “project” was actually for an upcoming neighborhood event preparing hand crafted signage for the day.
• Kerrie didn’t bring her own project either; she created beautiful gift tags to sell at our annual church Bazaar fundraiser for Missions projects.
• Nearly half of our basement has been renovated, and we were the first group to be able to use it. Several people came by just to see the beautiful changes. Thank you, Don, and all of the volunteers and workers who made this modernization possible!
• Our kitchen has been a growing mess for a year, and more so with the building projects happening now, but our Pastor Matt and Marsha worked a near miracle Thursday by completely organizing the kitchen into a room with counter space, all of the supplies in the appropriate places, and nothing to trip over anymore. We were very grateful to be able to use the stove to heat our meal today.
• There is also roof repair over the lobby, and Jack came by and spent an hour cleaning and readying the church for all of tomorrow’s activities.
• Waffle church is in the morning – a concept fun for kids with waffles (regular and gluten-free), maple syrup (the real deal and low sugar), and interactive worship time (crayons for everyone!). Ben won’t be able to come early and help as he’d planned due to his work, but he stopped in just to make sure there were enough supplies for the event and to lend his waffle maker. While there, he also helped us finish cleaning up and load our cars.

These are just a few of the people who put their faith into action for the lives the church impacts every day. This is a place not only of worship, meetings, and Sunday School; this is a place of compassion, love, relationship, peace, forgiveness, welcoming, justice, grace, and growth. We take Jesus instruction to welcome all, feed the hungry, and clothe those in need as a call to action. All are welcome in this place. And we do mean all.

I am humbled by the passion, energy, and diligence of these people I call Sunnysiders. Membership is not required to enter these doors. Faith in action is also not required, but it seems to be a side-effect of those who come here.

This bumbling butter fingers managed to drop her phone yet again, this time flat on it’s face with an undesirable sound. The last day of May was the last day of my phone’s life.

The first day of June I headed to the phone store expecting to spend a good, long time there awaiting my options. But I was pleasantly surprised when the body builder guy with a buzz cut and a serious business sense quickly came to my assistance and started the process of ordering a replacement within minutes of my arrival. Wow!

He was all business and serious techy stuff until he verified my email address which contains the word cat. This big burly guy turned into a four-year old little boy, grinning from ear to ear, with a vibrant sparkle in his eyes! He asked how many cats I had, the type of cats, and their names.

I shared about our girls and then asked how many he had (clearly, someone that excited and giddy had to have at least a couple to his name). He has three: two Persian and one bobtail. He was so animated and excited. The service got even better after that (I didn’t imagine it possible, but it’s true), as if being a fellow friend of cats put me in a special class of people. True or not, I couldn’t have had a better experience all around. I even received the replacement phone in 23 hours.

My Prayer for You: That all of your utility experiences are as good as this and that all people surprise you for the better.

Easter is shaping up into something nearly overwhelming for me again this year. Last week Friday, Kerrie asked if my mom and I would like to see “The Case for Jesus” with her. Wow! I hadn’t known anything about it, and I was moved by the research (being part geek).

Today, my niece Erin would have turned 38, but instead she’s forever 26. In these 11.5 years since she’s been gone from us, it’s been easier to grieve, and to remember the joys instead of the sorrows. She was a joy to me, and I still miss her every day.

We all probably have a loved one or several that we miss. I truly believe she’s in a better place, and that I will get to see her one day again, along with all of the others who’ve gone before us.

Bad things happen, but God is not behind them. Instead He weeps and grieves with us, gives the loved one a forever home, and holds us in the palm of His hand until we can walk and talk again.

Today I can stand up and tell you about a beautiful, talented, vibrant, and wise woman named Erin. I am a better person for having had her in my life. Because of her, I got my first tattoo. Because of me, she learned to love Pierce Brosnan. Because of her, I learned to love Heath Ledger. She was born on my half birthday, so we would celebrate each other’s half birthday when we celebrated our birthday. Easter is hard, because she and I would take turns giving each other an Easter basket filled with games, books, puzzles, and candy. She would do one year, and me the next.

Erin, her friend Lynn, and I became a trifecta of friendship. It’s because of this there are craft days in my life then and now, stories of snorting jingle bells from the back seat of my car, and that tattoo. Lynn and I are pretty sure that Erin is still present at craft days. We feel her presence and hear her laughter.

Erin, you are still loved, respected, and your cat Joy is well cared for. If Joy gets to see you again before me, I hope she is kind in her description of the diet I put her on and forcing her to be cuddled and loved.

Last night I was blessed to see Kareem Abdul-Jabbar speak at Miller Auditorium as part of the Kalamazoo Reading Together book of 2017. He made me cry and laugh, and we gave him multiple standing ovations. I chose to come home before I turned into a cranky pumpkin last night and an unfun person at work today, so I do not have his signature in my book.

One of the many concepts he shared that stuck for me was about critical thinking. He said something to the effect that we need to teach our children critical thinking instead of merely to memorize facts and recall them on tests because they need to be able to identify lies. Someone who only knows the answers to fill in a test might not be able to hear the subtle nuances that identify truth from fiction.

I believe I was taught both, but sometimes my lie detector is broken. Other times, I cannot keep the memories or critical thinking skills in my head long enough to use them on a test. Or is it just that when the word “test” is spoken or at the top of a page, I suddenly feel like I’m in a frozen tundra and ice demons are tormenting me?

In all seriousness, it is vital that we be able to identify fact from fiction. It can save us time, energy, and heartache.

Moral of the Story: Critical thinking is a skill that will pay off for a lifetime. Memorization skills fade as we age (at least for me).

February 8, 2017 – I saw a little birdie today. It wasn’t pretty, didn’t have feathers, and was attached to one unable to drive his car with dignity.

I was in a 35 mile per hour area, and I got behind a guy going about 17 miles per hour – half of the posted limit. I did not honk. I did not race around him and burn rubber. I did not call out obscenities. I did not shake my hands in anger or give him any rude gestures. After waiting for a safe clearing to pass him, I was looking as I started to come up next to his car to see if he was suffering from a medical condition, such as a stroke or seizure.

Turns out, he was suffering from a very common medical condition – angry dude in a car. I thought I saw from the side of his car that he was flying a birdie at me – right on the glass of the car window. I slowed down so I could see better. Yep, a single finger up and flipping me off with a scowl on his pasty face.

What did I do in return? I gave him 3 fingers, and then 5 fingers. His expression and finger didn’t change, so as I began to move ahead of him (as the many cars suddenly behind me were delighted to see), I did it again – giving him first 3 and then 5 fingers. Why? The speed limit was 35. I’m not sure he could understand that, since he had no reason to be angry with me to begin with and we’d passed at least one such sign already.

Hmmm…

A few years ago, I was on a semi-country road with the posted speed limit of 45 miles per hour. Normally, people are behind me pushing me to pick up the pace while I’m going 50 or illegally passing me, but on this particular day, I was behind the slow guy. At first he was only going 40, but by the last half mile, he was barely doing 15 miles per hour. This entire time, we were in a no passing zone. I didn’t pass for a second reason: fear this person was encountering a medical condition.

During this time, I did not shake my hands in angry gestures, honk my horn, or cuss him out. I got my phone out in case I needed to call 911 for help.

Yet, when we neared the next intersection, he slowed further to stop at the stop sign and even turned on his right turn signal. I was going straight and was next to the slow car. I looked over to see if the driver was even able to sit up or in need of help … and it was an old pasty guy who flipped the bird at me while clearly spitting unkind profanities my way. I could only hear mumbling through my closed windows with the audio book playing, and I’m grateful.

So, huh?