Strawberry Freezer Jam Slide Show & Etc.

Humilty

“Thank God often and always…Thank God, carefully and wonderingly for your continuing privileges. …Thankfulness is a soil in which pride does not easily grow.

             “Take care about the confession of your sins. Be sure to criticize yourself in God’s presence that is your self-examination. Put yourself under the divine criticism: that is your confession.

            “Be ready to accept humiliations. They can hurt terribly, but they help you to be humble. There can be the trivial humiliations. Accept them. There can be the bigger humiliations… All these can be so many chances to be a little nearer to our humble and crucified Lord…

            “Do not worry about status… here is only one status that our Lord bids us to be concerned with, and that is the status of proximity to himself…

            “Use your  sense of humor. Laugh about things, laugh at the absurdities of life, laugh about yourself, and about your own absurdity. We are all of us infinitesimally small and ludicrous creatures within God’s universe. You have to be serious, but never be solemn, because if you are solemn about anything, there is the risk of becoming solemn about yourself.”

 (From The Radical Disciple by John Stott where he quotes Michael Ramsey, Archbishop of Canterbury on the topic of humility.)

           There is something so attractive, so compelling about people who are humble. Especially when from our perspective they might have cause for pride. I look for people like this to be examples, to be models. Being Christ-like is not something I’m a natural at (who is?) so my desire to be what God wants me to be is nurtured by such as John Stott. He helps me keep walking toward Christ with my humiliations and absurdities dogging me all the way.

Some gardening advice

Perhaps we should plant more iris. (This one is still blooming its head off out back. I think it is called “Midnight.”) I received this rant from dear gardener daughter, Marsena, who read the last Notes From Toad Hall (Issue #2 2010) in which I likened Christ to Lilies of the Valley:

  "I beg of you, don't...I repeat...Do NOT plant any lily of the valley. You will regret it. If you've planted some already, rip them out now, before they have a chance to settle in. (I'm actually serious.) They smell wonderful and are lovely for a few weeks, but they are so invasive, you will hardly be able to believe it. And the berries get eaten by birds and you'll suddenly find them growing and killing your perennial beds on the other side of the house. If you plant them on the boulevard, the roots will travel under the sidewalk and pop up in your lawn. They're so invasive and their root system is so thick and goes so deep, they've killed hostas in my yard, not to mention countless bulbs and flowers. I was finally, after about four years, getting on top of them. But that was after hour and hours of work. And because there are a few beds of them where I left them to grow, I knew I'd be fighting them every season. Buy little bunches of them at the Farmer's Market and let someone else realize that in the yard, they are Satan's Spawn. Better yet, I WILL BUY you little bunches of them at the Farmer's Market. Seriously.”

I know metaphors and analogies fall short. Not that I wouldn’t welcome Jesus’ invasion into the heart of my rot. But I am aware that he does not do it in a way that chokes and obliterates self. Down to my heart and bones his love wants to change me to what I long to be – perfectly Margie. But we’re still a long way from Eden.

More on Parking in the City

I just paid a parking ticket. It made me quite unhappy to send the City of Rochester $32.00 for parking in our neighborhood. Shifting the blame, however: it was not I who left the car parked on the street overnight in a zone that says “No Parking M-F 6am-9am and 3pm-6pm. Except Sat. & Sun.” But I did purposely leave the ticket buried on my desk illogically hoping it might be forgotten by the authorities. (The idea of not being able to park on the street outside our home anytime we want annoys me to say the least.) That was May 10^th. Silence until yesterday when a letter arrived from the City Clerk advising Denis the penalty has gone up twice and not only will more penalties be assessed, they will issue a warrant for his arrest and they might impound his car, too. For a Parking Ticket? I fantasized pleading “Not Guilty,” but what argument can you make against a permanent street sign? (unlike the SINGLE, temporary, pound-in-the-ground one I own)  English is not my first language? I take this very personally.

Perspective. I need it much. Something or someone to soothe my hostility. My nastiness is easily exposed by lots of things, but indifferent anonymous authority? Arghhh. However I cut this, there’s tons worse things. Especially remembering times when others were far more justified crying “Facist!” Like when I was staying with my youngest daughter and son-in-law. It was winter. They were waiting for twins to be born any minute. There’d been a big snowstorm the day before. The Emergency Snow Parking laws in St. Paul had kicked in and were forgotten until we looked out the window and saw a wrecker hooking onto their old pickup. Shaun ran out coatless in stocking feet yelling, begging them not to take it. But they paid him no mind and simply pulled away with him standing wet-footed in the middle of the street. They couldn’t begin to afford to pay towing fees and impounded-car penalties. Nor could I. That’s a case way more justifiable as Not Guilty, Your Honor. Way more worthy of hostility.

I give a big sigh. There is suffering so terrible it almost can’t be comprehended. Almost? More accurate: can’t.  From children conscripted into war to the death of the Gulf of Mexico. If we had not the hope of Restoration of all things, well, I hate to think. So I should probably let that ticket and my sign go. As one commenter said on my last posting: And what did we learn from this, young lady?

No Parking

A man with a blaze orange vest and reflector stripes rang the doorbell this afternoon and asked if I knew anything about the “No Parking” signs on the boulevard along side our house. Sometimes I haven’t much conscience when it comes to lying to city officials. And for a moment I paused. To tell him the truth or not created a little gas indigestion in my heart as the ten commandments scrolled. So I admitted. I put them there. He probably knew anyway.

I think of them as mine, but , I suppose, they belong to some department of the city. (Denis has warned that this day was coming and has never colluded with me.) I was slightly comforted by his crooked smile as he pushed me to tell him how I got hold of them. And that’s where I may have lied, but since I’ve actually forgotten the exact circumstances by which they came to be in our garage, it’s maybe probably possible that what I told him was true.

I explained to him that when we have anyone, I mean any kind of repairman, work crew, or delivery at Toad Hall there is nowhere to park. Nowhere. There is parking 24-7 on our block. So what are they supposed to do? What are we supposed to do? So yes, I put those signs out so TWO random cars could not take two little spaces next to our driveway so the guys who are supposed to be here right now putting in new back steps and sidewalk, but aren’t here, as you can see, (plus we have out of town guests, who aren’t parking there, they’re across the street, see the “Indiana” license plate at this very moment) will have a place to park their truck and equipment when they do arrive.

He grinned and said any contractor can contact the city and get a permit to park if they need to and it is my job to put those signs …

Oh, right. Does he even know how hard that would be? It would, first of all require planning on the part of the contractor, plus he would need to arrive at 4:30 (please, please do not jackhammer my sidewalk that early if ever) to have even the remotest chance of getting a parking place. And well, it’s just stupid.

So, I said defiantly, are you going to arrest me?

He said, “You’re just trying to be nice, aren’tcha? I thought of leaving the signs, but I can’t really. They’re my signs.” (Still grinning though I wasn’t sure why.) “These guys, it’s their responsibility to figure out parking and if they don’t get the permit, they can pay the ticket. You don’t have to worry about them.”

“How did you find out the signs were there?” I asked. (When is an official ever around to witness an actual felony?) And he said the police called wondering if there was some work going on they didn’t know about. It looked suspicious to them.

So he’s out here, johnny-on-the-spot? For a long time, years maybe, each time I used them Denis said I shouldn’t and I said whatever. Now my signs are gone. Except for this one. ONE. I have one left in the garage and I’m keeping it. Think of how many guys I helped get ticket-permit Free Parking? But I suppose now that I’m a target and probably under surveillance the fun is over. But so is the temptation and that is probably good.

Putting it to good use

Just back today from Denis’ graduation from Covenant and a short side trip to a B&B for rest and celebration.

After looking for a coffee shop the last 250 miles, (WHAT is WITH the I-90 corridor in southern MN anyway?) we careened into Caribou’s for our drinks. Today the young woman behind the counter greeted us and asked where we’d been. When Denis told her he’d just graduated. In what? she wanted to know.

A Masters in theology.

And this was her loud and wide-eyed response:

You’re KIDDING!

That’s TOTALLY bonkers. That’s BONKERS!

You mean, like you could talk about polytheism and monotheism and all that stuff?

(Yes.)

I MISSED Passover this year, I’m not Jewish, but I wanted to experience it. I’ve never been around Jewish people. I’m sort of INTERESTED in spiritual stuff.

So, could we get together some time and talk??

(Yes.)

(Does she think we’re Jewish?)

(Maybe.)

I couldn’t stop laughing. Life is sometimes amusing and so bizarre. If I needed an excuse for my lattes, which I don’t, this would be it… we don’t just get caffeinated at the shop one block from our house we get to love the spirit-seeking, patchouli-reeking baristas, too.

Bread for Work

Friday, May 21. We’re in St. Louis today. Denis has picked up his cap and gown. We’re making bread deliveries: Cranberry & Wild Rice. Seven Grain. Cheesy Chives & Potato. Fresh from a bakery in Rochester. There are people in the Admin department who make this place happen and they deserve a lot more than a loaf of bread as a thank you. Their patience, kindness and diligence has been part of what has made his seminary experience outstanding. What they do is a great work of being faithful in the ordinary and everyday. It was a pleasure to meet some of them and say thanks for all you do.

Denis has slowly been working on a seminary degree for the past number of years. Covenant has an excellent distance program so he could take courses at home in addition to getting down here for special weekend classes each year. Sometimes I came with him ostensibly to find space away from Toad Hall to find uninterrupted writing time. Not that it happened. I often ended up with friends. Or driving clear across town to that special coffee shop for what I can’t get in Rochester. Once we were snowed in at a hotel. Crazy. Really humbling because I’m such a braggart about how much snow we get in Minnesota.

Denis has been equally blessed by both his professors’ wisdom and their humility. Their mentoring and example has challenged him to think outside his normal interests. Christian/Muslim relations. Abuse. History of the church. He wouldn’t have traded all the travel, the mountains of books, the billion papers written late at night, or the sacrificed brain cells for anything in the world. Except for me. He’d trade for me. Tonight he graduates.  I’m proud of his accomplishments. We also have a lot of friends who’ve been awfully tolerant of us through this journey. We're really grateful.

In Denis’ words:

My studies have provided me with three rich graces. The chance to study under godly, wise scholars whose love of Christ and knowledge of Scripture is remarkable. The chance to reflect on what I believe in an organized way. And the chance to have my walk with God deepened as I have been challenged anew to see all of life and culture under Christ's Lordship.