I Remember Riding in the Car with My Dad when I was Little

"You shall put these words of mine in your heart and soul, and you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and fix them as an emblem on your forehead.  Teach them to your children, talking about them when you area t home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.  Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates, so taht your days and the days of your children may be multiplied in the land that the Lord swore to your ancestors to give them, as long as the heavens are above the earth."

Deuteronomy 11:18-21

I remember riding in the car with my dad when I was little.  I remember partly because when I was small, my dad had a big orange van that he used for his business, which was TV Sales and Service.  It had the words G&B TV on the side in great big letters.  This was an era waaaaay before SUVs, and riding in my dad's van was an adventure.  Sometimes when we set out, he would pretend that we were taking off in a huge jet liner:  "Pilot to co-pilot/pilot to co-pilot, come in please," he'd say to me.

I remember riding in the car with my dad.

Sometimes we'd be going to get the Christmas tree, and he'd be singing Christmas carols all the way there and back.  Sometimes he told jokes, kind of cheesy jokes, actually, and other times we'd have serious conversations, especially as I got older.

We discussed questions, even theological questions, on occasion, talked about (for example) what was the most important day in the church year (Easter? Christmas? Pentecost?), or why bad things happened to good people (neither of us had the answer to that).  I remember on a couple of occasions, he talked about tragedies we had heard about on the news, and people's statements that they were saved from death or injury or some bad thing, becasue "God was with them."  But, my dad would always say, "What about all those other people?  The ones who died?  The ones who suffered?"  Wasn't God with them, too?  Didn't God love them too?

I remember riding in the car with my dad, and the converesations we had.

"Teach (these things) to your children, talking  about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise."

One of the things I think about often is what it means to live a generous life.  What does it mean for us, as individuals, as families, as a congregation, to be known as generous?  There are a lot of components to this, lots of ways to practice generosity -- or not.  There are people who are quick to give, a little or a lot, whenever there is a need.  There are people who are quick to extend their own hearts to others, be vulnerable, share their own struggles, be real.

My dad wasn't perfect by any means.  But it seems to me that he had a kind of generosity, the generosity to count among God's blessed ones the suffering and the sorrowing, the down-and-out as well as the up-and-coming. 

As we contemplate in our congregation what it means to live a generous life, I hope that our definition will include both generous financial giving to the mission of our congregation, and a generous heart, one that extends God's presence and God's love to the ones who need it most.

I remember riding in the car with my dad, when I was little.

A Few Rare Things

This morning, as I was preparing for worship, the worship coordinator approached me and said, "I really liked your sermon last week."

Last week? How often does that happen? (almost never). I savored the moment, just a little. Usually (and I think that I speak for most pastors in this respect), you have the few minutes right after the worship service. Then it's gone.

After church this morning, we had a birthday dinner for my mother-in-law. This was rare for a couple of reasons: my husband's two boys were both in town and could be there; I do not cook much. I know how to cook, I really do. But I have not so much time, and I have a pretty small kitchen and I do not have a dishwasher, so I don't cook much.

I cooked a kind of a rare dish (I've just made it a few times). It's one from one of the Moosewood Cookbooks, and while I was working on it, I remembered why I don't make it so often: It uses about four pots and a casserole, so it's a little messy and involved.

It's called Baked Pasta with Cauliflower and Cheese, and it also features tomatoes, basil and seasoned bread crumbs. It was worth it, if I do say so myself.

This is not so rare, but my mom called. She visited my dad again today, and went home feeling upset. It's both the sense that he seems to be losing ground some days, and also the level of care he's getting.

He was in another care center for awhile; we thought he got better care there, but it is a private pay only facility, which means it is not available to him.

I've been thinking a lot about health care lately. I know that the current bill is fatally complicated, not perfect, all those things. But I despair of doing nothing, which some people seem to think is just hunky-dorey.

A long time ago, I heard that one of my relatives said, "people should take care of themselves." He said this with regard to Social Security, which he thought was probably a mistake. Instead of Social Security, "people should just take care of themselves", he thought.

In the same town, lives another relative of mine, an uncle actually. He never married; he worked his whole life as a farmhand. He didn't save much money because he didn't make much money. From my vantage point as an adult, I think I can say that my uncle did the best he could with what he had.

He's able to live, and have a little apartment in that town because of social security.

So, even though I will admit to not having all the answers, I will continue to hope that somehow we figure out how to cover all people. Because of my uncle. Because of my dad.

It's Snowing

Ir's not quite Christmas eve, and I'm headed to bed. We were out a bit tonight, and it seemed like we were getting some serious snow. But we'll see. We're tough here in the Twin Cities and we hardly ever cancel anything, not like those rural areas you hear about.

Now of course there are reasons for this, reasons I knew nothing about until I lived in one of those (I thought) wimpy rural areas. Two reasons I can think of right away: 1. visibility. 2. blowing and drifting snow. Then there's the chance of getting stuck or going off the road when you are miles from anywhere, instead of two blocks away from a mall or a gas station. Maybe those rural people aren't so wimpy. Maybe they respect nature.

I kind of miss living in a rural area, and the adventure of serious snow. I miss getting snowed in. I miss having a break from the schedule, an opportunity to sit and read and knit (although in rural South Dakota I was doing counted cross-stitch) and watch romantic movies. I miss having my neighbors help me push my car out of a snowdrift.

It's snowing here, and it's almost Christmas eve. We'll drive slowly and safely to church anyway, and we'll shake the snow off our coats, and we'll sing the songs just like every other year.

But even if it's just a winter storm, and not an official "blizzard", it won't be like every other Christmas eve. This year will be its own year, the year more troops went to Afghanistan, and some sort of health care passed, but we didn't know if it would be a good thing or not. It will be the year a lot of us didn't have jobs, the year some of us were hanging on by our fingernails. It will be the year the kids didn't come home, the first year without grandpa, the year of the homemade scarves, the year we didn't have homemade cookies. It will be the year the euphoniums played at church, or your granddaughter sang a solo, or your grandson read the lesson at church. It will be the year you hold a candle and suddenly realize it is a "holy night", the year you yearn for peace, the year you wondered what it all meant.

And it will be the year it snowed. And snowed. And snowed.

In Honor of our Tenth Anniversary this Weekend...

.... we are starting a project we have never before attempted (though we have often talked about it).

We are getting ready to have our hardwood floors refinished.

There, I said it. It is just one simple sentence, ten words. And yet, this project seems much more daunting than anything we have attempted yet. We re-finished the basement. We painted the living room, kitchen and bathroom. We constructed a shed in the back yard (I think that the boys were actually more involved with that than I was).

Ten simple words, one sentence, but here is what our project involves: pulling up 1970s style green carpet from living room and hallway. Cleaning and re-organizing porch and basement. Sweeping, tossing, and organizing in our garage. Taking almost all of our furniture out of the upstairs and finding temporary new homes in other parts of the house, porch or garage. (This involves both brainwork and brawnwork.)

Tonight I spent about an hour in the garage, just getting started: getting rid of a bag's worth of leaves, styrofoam peanuts and other miscellaneous items from the floor.

What is it Confucius said? The journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step?

What did he know, anyway?

This weekend we are going away overnight to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

I figure, we might as well have some fun while we still like each other.

Early Sunday Morning: A Thought

When I was in 5th grade, my grandpa Folke, my dad's father, died. He died of skin cancer at 79 years old. I remember my grandmother sneaking me up to the hospital room once, because they did not allow children then. It's hard to explain, exactly: she hid me under her coat. I'm pretty sure that some people did see me.

But this is not about that.

When my grandpa Folke died, and even later when my grandma Judy died, I didn't really think about, as sad as I was, how much sadder my father must be, because these were his parents who had died.

When my neice was about three, I told her that my her dad was my brother, and that my uncle was grandma's brother, and that grandma was her dad's mother, and she threw her hands up in the air and said, "You mean everybody has a family?"

It seems like it takes our whole lives to figure that out.

Highs and Lows (you decide which is which)

It was Rally Sunday today, which means that Confirmation classes start this week for our 7-9 graders. One of the things we do every week in our small groups, without fail, is "check in" with our highs and lows. Here are some of mine lately:

• We took Scout to Nine Mile Creek this afternoon. Temperature was 67 degrees. I only wish I had taken the camera along. She met (and sniffed) many nice dogs.


• In worship, I saw many people for the first time since May. I'm so glad to know that they didn't leave the church. I thought the worship and the brunch were both delicious.


• I had my very first Facebook "chat" with one of my cousins this Friday. Unfortunately, I may have "said" the wrong thing, in answer to his question, "Wasn't Sarah Palin an awesome choice for Vice President?" I hate Facebook chat.


• I found out on Thursday evening about a five hour meeting on Saturday, which effectively ruined family plans to take a day trip to the local Renaissance Festival. And no, I couldn't get out of it.


• During the last few days, I have experienced a growing sense that I need to have at least two difficult conversations. But who's counting?


• I did someting stupid in Facebook, and now I am getting a lot of spam in my email account.


• Last Sunday we celebrated my husband's birthday. His oldest son grilled salmon and garlic shrimp for us and his grandparents.


• I also had a wedding last weekend. Beautiful weather for an outdoor ceremony, but due to last minute stressful situations, my husband ended up not being able to go with me.


• We moved my husband's younger son back to school last weekend, to his first apartment. It ended up being much much much more stressful than we had anticipated. And we did anticipate that it would be stressful.

Very Simple Mother's Day Menu by exhausted daughter

.... while thinking, "next year, I think we should just go out to eat."

1. Chicken-Bacon Ranch wraps. Very easy to make.
2. Tuna Salad with grape tomatoes.
3. Now famous White Jello (with strawberry garnish)
4. Banana Bread.
5. Store-bought fruit salad.
6. Pie (always the dessert of choice that my brother brings).
7. Kristian Regale Sparkling Pear and Apple Juice Beverage.

I know it's kind of an odd variety, but keep in mind that my last service ends at 12:00 and that people were supposed to be at my house at 12:30. And that I had to stop at the store on the way home, because they were out of rotisserie chickens yesterday. And that my brother could only stay until 2:00 p.m., because he had to go to work.

So I was throwing together quickly the ranch wrap mixture in the kitchen, pulling little pieces of chicken off and throwing them in the bowl, and ordering my brother to squeeze a cup of ranch dressing into the bowl, and mix in those onions and bacon! And I was thinking, "really, next year we should just go out to lunch."

And after lunch, I was apologizing for the modesty of our meal, and my mom said, "I'm so glad you do this."

All right then.

Happy Mother's Day.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

I'm one day late -- but better late than never, I say. It was my mom's birthday yesterday (September 9). The day before was my aunt M's (her older sister) 80th birthday. They were born 8 years and one day apart.

They grew up on a farm just north of Jackson, Minnesota, along with their younger sister and two brothers. My aunt graduated from high school and worked in town for a couple of years, and then moved to Minneapolis when she was 21. My mom moved to Minneapolis when she graduated from high school, inspired at least in part, I think, by my aunt's bravery. My aunt worked for Augsburg Publishing House for awhile; they both worked for General Mills (home of the fictional Betty Crocker).

One of my aunt's claims to fame is that she worked on the classic Betty Crocker Cooky Book. There were those who wanted to spell it "cookie", and my aunt insisted that this was the way they spelled it at her house! I do think the spelling contributed to the charm.

My mom got married when she was 20, and had me when she was 21. At a certain age, I did the math, and asked her, "Was I planned?" She answered, "Let me put it this way. We didn't plan not to."

Both my mom and my aunt are smart women. Neither went to college from high school. That option just wasn't open them at the time. I remember when I was in high school, that my aunt decided to go back to school and get her teaching degree. I rode the bus with her to the University of Minnesota one day when I was looking into colleges. She took me to classes and, most important, I thought, to the college cafeteria. Then, when I was in college, my mom decided to go back and get her business degree.

On Sunday afternoon, we had a birthday party for both of them. Part of it was a surprise. My mom had invited some of my aunt's girlfriends, including one of her good friends she had worked with at General Mills, and one of her roommates from when she first lived in Minneapolis.

At one point, my aunt got up and gave a little speech, thanking her sons (she said she didn't know they were capable of giving a party like this) and my mom. She said, "For a long time we have been sisters.... but we've also been good friends."

I'm so proud to have them both as a mom, as an aunt ... and as my friends, too.

A Special Day

Today we had blueberry pancakes (with special blueberry syrup), turkey sausage and fresh orange juice for breakfast (and, of course, as always -- coffee). It's my husband's birthday today (I won't say which one) -- and I have church meetings all evening, so I wanted to do something special this morning. It's also his first day back at school. He teaches guitar (both private lessons and class), and music technology at a private college. He also leads a contemporary worship group.

On J's birthday today, here are some things I want to share with the world:

1. He is an accomplished classical guitarist and composer. He also plays "finger-style" acoustic guitar. My favorite of his compositions is called "Crazy Horse." He writes a lot of music for congregations as well. He has written some pieces for a jazz liturgy, and many songs and hymns in jazz, gospel and calypso styles. One of my favorites is a setting of the beatitudes to the hymn tune "Picardy."

2. He makes a mean omelet, blt and reuben sandwich.

3. He's a really good dad, and his sons are both becoming men of integrity. They are both creative as well. Son #1 plays bass, writes and is a creative graphic designer. He is also interested in current events, and was a journalism major. Son #2 plays trumpet, guitar, and mandolin, throws pots, and is planning on physical therapy. He is interested as well in environmental issues.

4. He once wrote and illustrated, and got published a humor book drawing on elements of his Norwegian heritage.

5. He likes to vaccuum, and irons his own shirts.

6. He actually likes to shop for antiques, and go to bookstores.

7. He has been a Twins fan since they first arrived in Minnesota from Washington in 1960. He knew some of the Cuban Players who had apartments here in Minneapolis. He actually watched the world series with some of them in one of their apartments. His sister also interviewed members of the team for the school paper. He admits to losing interest by 1965 because of the Beatles! He did, eventually, come back around.

8. He likes biblical theology, and archeology.

9. He likes everything I cook.

10. He thinks I am beautiful, intelligent and a good preacher and writer.

Happy birthday, honey!