The Fifth of July

Many years ago after our annual family 4th of July picnic and after-dark fireworks, I spent the night with my Uncle Dick, his dad, and his grandma. His dad was my Grandpa Dobson, and his grandma was my Great- Grandma Dobson. As I recall I was about 7 at the time, and Dick was 12. Being older, smarter, and more sophisticated than I, he came up with the ideas for our entertainment. To that end he had saved a few firecrackers from the night before. They were the type that were in a strip--each one-inch fire-cracker attached to the next with paper. We considered them harmless. I'm sure they were intended to be pulled apart and lighted one at a time, but everyone knows you get a bigger bang if you leave 2 or 3 together. If you are 12 and fearless, you might even light the whole strip at once.

Well, Dick's plan for this July 5 was to climb to the second floor of the large square farm house, go out onto the upper porch, attach a fire cracker (or a small strip of fire crackers) to a fish hook attached to a fishing line and pole. Step 2 was to light the fire cracker(s) and then, using the fishing pole, reel out the lighted weapon over the bannister down to scare Rex, the dog, napping on the stoop below.
Genius! Dick was the master trickster, and I was his assistant.

We gathered the necessary equipment and crept through the dim upstairs bedroom onto the seldom-used porch. The bannister was fairly high, and so to get a glimpse of the sleeping Rex, I had to stand with my bare feet on a holey, musty, green army blanket which was crumpled in the corner. We peered over the edge and took a look at Rex. We giggled at the prospect of scaring the living daylights out of him.

I don't know if you realize this or not, but the fuse on those little fire crackers is not long, and Dick's first few attempts at the plan resulted in premature explosions. Each time a blast went off, I imagined that my legs were being burned or pierced. I shrieked for him to stop. He took one look at my legs and yelled, "Yellow jackets!" At that, we tore through the door, raced through the upstairs, and thundered screaming down the stairs. We crashed through the door at the bottom of the stairs in the following order: Dick, me, and the bees.

The sound effects were largely lost on Grandma Dobson, who was essentially deaf, sitting in the kitchen with her crochet hook and thread. She must have felt the vibrations from our wild stampede down the stairs though because she didn't seem surprised. But she was mad, even madder than the bees. Being a near invalid, she moved very slowly and painstakingly and spent most of her days sitting in a chair. However, she was quite well enough to scold Dick roundly and remind him that he should KNOW better!

This lecture didn't rescue us as we were still under attack from the ill-tempered bees which we had disturbed from their home in the army blanket. Though it takes me a long time to stop the hysterics after such an experience, and Grandma Dobson was no help, Dick and I somehow managed to get outside to the back step where we were able to defeat some of the enemy and drive off the rest, catch our breath, and doctor our wounds.

Rex, meanwhile, dozed contentedly--the living daylights still safely within him.

Little Pitchers Have Big Ears

Have you ever heard the expression "little pitchers have big ears"? I was reminded of it recently and looked up some information about it which I have copied and pasted here.

 http://word-ancestry.livejournal.com/50599.html

 little pitchers have big ears,
-This English expression refers to little children overhearing and understanding more conversations than their parents might think. The allusion is to the ear-like handles often found on smaller pitchers. This phrase appears to be rather old, dating at least back to early 16th century England but likely even earlier. One of the first written records we have of it is found in the fifth chapter of part two of John Heywood's Proverbes (1546 C.E.): "Auoyd your children: smal pitchers haue wyde eares." We also see it used in Shakespeare's Richard III about half a century later.


I was reminded of this proverb recently in the toddler nursery. Marjorie came in for Sunday school and explained to me that Evelyn, her two-year-old daughter, was not wearing pull-ups but underwear and would I please take her to the potty sometime during the hour. And so I asked Evelyn, and I took her to the bathroom. When Sunday school was over, I explained the situation to the children's church worker Dorothy. After church I was in the hallway outside the nursery, and I overheard Marjorie and Dorothy discussing how the potty scene went. For your information, there were no accidents in Sunday school or church.

That evening I was again in the toddler nursery. I had only two children to watch: Evelyn and a little three-year-old boy named Lawrence. The three of us were sitting at the low toddler table concentrating on play doh creations when Lawrence asked, "Ebewyn, are you weering puw-ups or unda-weer?" Evelyn, who doesn't talk much, calmly answered "unda-weer."

I smiled at the sweet innocence of this exchange, but I thought later that not one of us was really aware that all the children heard multiple conversations about the status of Evelyn's potty training. It was a reminder to me that even very small children have little brain recorders, continually recording all the conversations going on around them. Furthermore, they are good multi-taskers:  playing, chattering, and recording all at once. And don't forget that if they can record it, they can play it back!

Awfulize and Catastrophize

She was standing in the pew near the back of the auditorium with a tense air about her, like a cat ready to pounce. She had deep creases between her eyes and downward-turning lines around her mouth.  I knew I would speak to her. I also knew I wouldn't ask her how she was doing, but she would tell me anyway. "My boss cut my hours again. Down to 10 hours a week, and I can't live on 10 hours a week. And Deborah won't call me; I haven't seen my grandsons in a year. For all she knows, I'm dead and gone."

"Maybe you should call her?" I ventured.

"Why should I call her? She doesn't want to hear from me. I've tried. She doesn't take my calls."

"Oh."

"I'll be homeless by the end of the month. No money to pay the lot rent." She narrowed her eyes and leaned slightly toward me.

Just then Sam Evans breezed by and said, "You're awfulizing, Doris. Stop awfulizing!"

Awfulizing? What a great word. It was the first time I had heard it, but I knew exactly what it meant. Awfulize and its ominous cousin, catastrophize--what great made-up words.  In fact, I have practiced these myself. These verbs have not made it into the Oxford English Dictionary, but I looked them up on urbandictionary.com, and they indeed exist in popular culture and, I assume, in common experience.

Many years ago I suffered a panic attack, the only one I've ever had, and I can tell you I don't want another. It was on a Saturday afternoon, and I hadn't been well. My husband took to children to play tennis. I lay on the bed and thought, "What if they have an accident? They will have an accident! No. I'll think about something else. Why can't I think about anything else?"

My heart began to pound, and I could barely breathe. I didn't want to stay in bed, but I was afraid to get up.

"They're not going to die, but I'm going crazy. What if I go crazy? My children will have to tell their friends their mother is in an insane asylum."

I call this extreme awfulizing or in this case catastrophizing. Though I don't regularly experience panic attacks, thank goodness, I'm afraid I do practice awfulizing far more than I should. One negative thought is followed by a worse one. Why do I do this? Why do we do this? Why do we torture ourselves like this? I believe it is a result of not trusting God. And how do we come to trust God? Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God. OK, so I hear the Word of God, but am I listening?

The following words from our heavenly Father are beautifully translated in the King James Version, and I can't improve on them by commenting, and so I must just listen.

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
--Matthew 6:25-34

I Shouldn't Say This

"It's probably none of my business, but..." This is how I started an email message last week. I went on to a carefully worded message in which I tried to deceive myself that I was doing the right thing. I finished, proof-read it, hesitated. "Well, Barbara, is it your business or not?" I deleted the message. Any comment that starts with "It's none of my business,but..." is probably best left unsaid. How about "I really shouldn't...say this...push the snooze button...buy these shoes...eat this pie...watch this program." If you shouldn't, you shouldn't!

How about this one, "If I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it?" Don't say it and don't listen to it! And above everything, don't promise because it's a promise you likely can't or won't keep. Imagine that the person is going to tell you about a bomb plot, or an assassination scheme, or that he or she is practicing child abuse. Some secrets should not be kept. And when you are tempted to reveal a secret, forbidding your friend to disclose it, think of it this way: If you don't have the discipline to keep the secret, why should you expect your friend to?

Imagine a conversation like this: Mary Ellen comes to me and says, "Don't ever tell her I told you, but Glenda said your grandchildren are not very well behaved--actually she called them brats. I just thought you should know."

I probably wouldn't have the courage to do this, but what I should do in such a setting is to say, "Really? I'm surprised! After all, no kids are better, sweeter, kinder, not to mention smarter than my grandchildren! You know what? I have Glenda's number right here in my cell phone; I think I'll give her a call right now and ask her about this."

Mary Ellen is going to back peddle for sure. Glenda is going to deny that she ever thought such a thing, let alone said it. She is also going to be not a little miffed with Mary Ellen who will never again come to me with such drivel. Success all around!

But what if Mary Ellen refused to disclose that it was Glenda who made such an absurd (from my point of view) assertion. What if she said, "People are saying..."

Then I must say, "Which people is that?"

"Oh, I really couldn't break that confidence." Mary Ellen responds.

I say, "Well, then I have to assume that you, yourself are the people!"

Case closed.

Proverbs is an endless source of advice when it comes to good common sense, including how to control my tongue. I will pick just one small passage to conclude: He that hideth hatred with lying lips, and he that uttereth a slander, is a fool. In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise. Proverbs 10:18-19

Kid Perspective

I recently heard a podcast of the radio program, This American Life, entitled "Kid Logic."  http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/188/kid-logic
I liked the program and the title. This American Life is produced by WBEZ Chicago and distributed by Public Radio International.

Since hearing that title I've been thinking about a kid's perspective on a lot of things. I remember as a child  one of the chores that my two brothers and I had was washing dishes. Since there were three of us, we were on a rotating schedule; each night we would rotate like volleyball. One would wash and rinse; one would dry; one would put away. I can remember how hard we thought this job was and how much we hated it. Slave labor! Haven't you heard of the Emancipation Proclamation? Lincoln freed the slaves.


Another kid perspective that is out of whack is the matter of fear. As a child I was afraid of any number of things that are no real threat at all. For example, after seeing my uncle's comic books, I was afraid of dinosaurs. You know the type that crush cities and carry off pretty girls. Now really. When was a little girl in Iowa threatened by a real dinosaur? No time recently.

Occasionally, we would get reports of panther or mountain lion sightings. As far as I know, these were pretty much unsubstantiated, but they gave my imagination a starting point. I imagined a panther in the oak tree outside my bedroom window. We had a double porch on the front of the big square farm house. The second story of the porch was outside my room, and so it was a very easy leap from the tree to the porch and then the cat could climb right in the window and pounce on me in the bed! I thought of closing the window, but then I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hear him coming. Also, I didn't dare sleep without covers. I mean wouldn't you rather have something, even a sheet, between you and a panther?

And then there's the matter of worry. Kids don't know how to process information, especially overheard information. Dad was a worrier, and he verbalized every worry that flitted through his head. Now that I think of it, most of these worries had something to do with things over which he had no control, and they all had to do with farming. Not enough rain, too much rain, too hot and dry, too cool and rainy, corn prices in the tank, cattle prices plummeting. As a result, I worried too that we were inching toward bankruptcy. I now know the truth was that we were solidly middle class and probably in much better shape than many of our neighbors since my parents were conservative--though not tight--about spending.

Parents can help assuage some of these torturous fears. Reassurance helps, but to be honest, no matter how many times my parents insisted that no dinosaurs roamed the great plains, I was still afraid. I honestly believe these irrational fears are something the child himself must come to terms with. Regarding the work problem; well, maturity teaches us to put that into perspective. Once we have real responsibility, we know how easy we had it as kids. As for the issue of worry, I think parents should be careful not to verbalize their own worries within kids' hearing. And most important, children should be taught the scripture, and they should see their parents sincerely trust God for everyday needs.

...the Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:5-7 (NIV)

The Perfect Father

Several years ago on Father's Day, I was sitting at my usual post at the organ. I took a peek at the congregation, and I noticed a young woman's face--pale and solemn. I happened to know, by her own testimony to the ladies of our church, that she had been the victim of childhood sexual abuse at the hands of her father. I wanted to cry. In fact, I still get that feeling behind my eyes and throat when I think of the incident today.

Not all dads are worthy of praise.

I think of another young woman who was raised an only child by a single mother. As far as I know, her biological father was absent--physically, emotionally, even financially--from her life. Perhaps because of this missing piece in her early years, she has made a series of bad choices regarding men.

For all practical purposes some people didn't have a dad.

And then there is the matter of my two daughters in law. One, Jordan, lost her father to cancer when she was a child of twelve. This was a devastating loss at a time when her whole security depended on her parents. The other one, Kelly, lost her dad to cancer a mere year ago right around Father's Day. Though older than Jordan's dad, he was not an old man.

Some dads are definitely worthy of our honor, and we miss them!

If you have a wonderful father and he is still with you, you should honor him today. If your dad is gone from this life, I think it is good to reflect on the blessings he brought. But today what I really want to emphasize is that if you have been born again, if you are God's child, you have the perfect Father. Actually, He has qualities that your earthly father, no matter how honorable, cannot have. He created you and He knows all about you; He is wise and good;  He hears you at any time of the day or night; He has the resources to supply your every need; He has the power to forgive you, and He never holds your sins against you; in fact, He is all-powerful; and He loves you unconditionally.

Did you know that God has given you the greatest Father's Day gift? In Ephesians 2, Paul reminds us that we were disobedient, obnoxious children,
but God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us,  Even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;)  And hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus:  That in the ages to come he might shew the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus.  For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:  Not of works, lest any man should boast.  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.

Happy Father's Day!

No, Never, No Way

We've all known people who are chronically negative--those who hate everything and approve of nothing.

I think of a childhood friend whom I'll call Margaret. Actually, she was not a friend I chose. You might say we were friends by circumstance. I didn't realize at the time that a person can actually choose his friends. You see, Margaret and I were about the same age. Our families attended the same country church, so we were placed together in Sunday school classes and other church activities. Margaret stuck to me as if by static electricity, impossible to shake loose. She wanted to be my only friend; she was offended when I expressed a need for a little space. In fact, she was pretty much offended about a lot of things. She wanted me to spend every Sunday afternoon with her and her family. I really didn't want to do this, but every Sunday she would drag me to my mother, "Please, please, please, p-u-l-e-e-e-z? Can she come?" In my head I was secretly begging my mother to say no. Sometimes she did say no. Somehow it never occurred to me to tell Mom privately that I really did not want to spend my Sundays with Margaret, that I really didn't want to be around her at all. Instead, I just hoped every Sunday that she would not show up.

Though I was a reluctant friend, Margaret filled my mind with news. I learned from her that the Pastor and Sunday school teachers were mostly hypocrites, and furthermore, they were inferior to workers in other churches.  And didn't I know that church camp was a place where all sorts of dangers lurked, from the maggot-infested food to the showers contaminated with athlete's foot? She reported to me that the Baileys stayed home on Sunday nights to play cards instead of coming to church. She revealed that the Pastor's daughter, Annabel Kettell, with her creamy white skin and luxurious red hair, secretly smoked, and worse, she went to the skating rink on Saturday nights and flirted with boys! She made sure I noticed that the Halversons and Lowrys always sat in the same pew, and sometimes Ray Halverson would sit next to Marie Lowry. This wouldn't have been so bad, but listen to this--sometimes they (Mr. Halverson and Mrs. Lowry) would hold hands in the darkened sanctuary during missionary slides!

Now, more than 50 years later, I still remember all this gossip in vivid detail. Since I know you are wondering, I will tell you how it all looks to me now. I don't believe the Pastor and Sunday school teachers were any more hypocritical than anyone else then or now, including myself. I attended church camp for many years and did not once see a maggot in the food nor did I contract athlete's foot. I'm pretty sure the Baileys did indeed stay home on Sunday nights to play cards; I know for certain they were rarely in church. I couldn't say whether or not Annabel Kettell smoked, though I doubt it, but I personally witnessed some shameless flirting. Since I did not have night-vision goggles, I am not able to return a verdict on the alleged Halverson-Lowry tryst.

Now that I reflect on it, we have had several "Margarets" in our church over the years--porcupines who hate everything and are quite willing to use their negative quills. I recognize them from the organ by the wrinkled brow, the stubborn jaw, the disapproving look. Sometimes they grumble under their breath during services and whisper in the hallways or talk in low tones in the parking lot. Nothing is quite right. Their presence even distracts me when I listen to the sermons. "Oh, no. Margaret's not going to like this!" They have their set of unwritten rules, and we are breaking all of them. They make me feel much the way Margaret did so long ago. I just want them to GO AWAY.

Church porcupines don't usually stay forever, but they often stay a long time, wounding others with their needle-like weapons. Did you know that the word "porcupine"  means "one who rises up in anger"? I must say at this point that I'm not sure this analogy is entirely fair to the rodent version of the porcupine. According to a website entitled "7 Prickly Facts About Porcupines," they, unlike their church counterparts, are not aggressive, and they use their quills as a defense against predators. Scientists tell us the only defense against a porcupine is to avoid him.

Is avoidance the scriptural way to deal with negative people? I now believe we should do what I should have done all those years ago. We should tell them that we don't want to hear it, and we should go to our Heavenly Parent and tell Him the truth. As children, we as individuals have very little control over our circumstances. As adults, we have more choices, but sometimes only the Father can solve our problems. What does the Bible say about all this?

Solomon had some sage comments on this and six other things God hates. "Hates" is a strong word when applied to God Himself. Yet Proverbs 6 tells us, These six things doth the Lord hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief, A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren. Wow! Margaret was guilty of nearly all  these, and I was not far behind by listening to it!

Getting back to the scripture, God reminds us of something similar in the New Testament, just in case we missed it in the Old. If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness; He is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmising, Perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself. 1 Timothy 6:3-5

I can safely conclude that when we encounter those porcupines, as we most surely will, we must realize that this is behavior that God hates, and we must duly withdraw ourselves from them.