Brazilian Boiled Pork

So you take a huge, practically obscene, piece of meat, pork, that you bought at 1.25$ a lb at Wegmans, and you come home with it, all your groceries, and five kids, learning, along the way, that the sixth kid has learned how to climb out of her crib just that moment, and fretting that this Wegman's trip marks the point at which your oldest child will no longer be going in to the play place but will now, being nine, go shopping with you and the babies, but that in many ways even at just about nine, she is still way too silly to carry on a reasonable conversation,
so you take this marbled fat pork shoulder, after getting all the groceries in and realizing that you forgot three things but then getting distracted while putting everything away and sit down to drink an entire pot of tea by yourself because your husband said he would have a cup but forgot and went to work and it seemed a waste to let it sit, and then you realize that your end of the year reports are due tomorrow so you freak out and start trying to do them and swearing gently under your breath and pleading with the kids to leave you alone and go play, somewhere, anywhere but right here so you can concentrate,
and you put the pig in a giant pot and you pour a cup of soy sauce, and something like 15 smashed cloves of garlic, and two lemons (it should be limes but you were distracted in the store) and a bunch of dried thyme because you're out of oregano and rosemary, and you cover it with water and your bring it to a boil and then turn it way down to simmer/boil gently,
and then, after you print and mail your reports you decide not to put the groceries away because you'll have to be in the kitchen again later but instead to start taking everything out of the office and putting in the sun room on the bookshelves you emptied of books a few days ago, and you do that until 6 o'clock, making both rooms into an utter despairing mess, and then you realize its supper time and everyone is crying and trying to eat sugar popsicles and so you wildly put groceries away and make couscous and salad while taring off bits of this most divine and amazing pig that you've ever tasted and you fling it on plates and the children start stuffing themselves even before their father has walked through the door and then you realize
this is why you could never ever be a vegetarian.

for your compline praying

The Rain is Raining all Around

Blast it.
And I was really hoping to spend the day sitting outside doing nothing. Now, unfortunately, I have no excuse to avoid the work of the day, which includes adding another coat to my red table, giving the children their weekly Saturday bath, picking out clothes for Sunday, coming up with a Sunday School Lesson, baking banana muffins....what is it with the insane list making? It's like I'm stuck in a loop.

Here it is after coat number three, its much darker now and not shiny at all.

Its impossible to cook dinner without just putting the baby on the counter so she can see and letting her put cups in the sink.

 A little lettuce from the garden.

 Bread before being punched down.

You know what might be fun?

Dismantling a table, nailing the top to our kitchen island/butcher block, painting the top red, picking and washing a crop of lettuce, baking banana muffins and bread, emptying bookshelves of books, rearranging the furniture in the school/play room and cooking dinner ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

Actually its not fun. Its not a fun at all. And if one more child touches the bright red paint on purpose I will seriously freak out.

Pictures forthcoming.

Three is too much

I just went to Wegmans with the three little girls. Matt had to take Elpine out to lunch (she wore a super fancy new dress and shoes, a tiara in her hair, a tiny cross necklace and took a shiny black purse. She was ready to go two hours early. Apparently, said Matt, she's very interested in boys. I don't know what exactly about them, but there you go. Shoot.) and the boys were with one of their favorite people being spoiled (as I just found out) and so not to be outdone, I went to the store.

Three kids, as most of you know, is no big deal. Its like not having kids. I raced around the store rushing to be done before Matt and Elphine so I could pick them up on my way home.

TWO SEPARATE people said, "three kids, wow! Are they all yours?"
Both times I stood stunned, unable to speak from surprise.
Are you kidding me? There were like six other women in the store with three kids. What do you mean, "Are they all mine?" So here's some of the things I should have said but didn't.

No, but they were just so cute I took them out of someone else's cart and I'm planning on taking them home.

No, I like to gather other people's toddlers and babies and take them to the grocery store so I can pick up men. Oh wait, that doesn't work for women does it.

Yes, they're all mine and I have three more at home and I'm looking to give some away. You can have the toddler because she bites.

Of course, for the ultimate guide on what to say you should go visit Simcha.

Impossibly Pleasant

 Some really lovely people in the church stopped by and gave us this furniture last Friday.

 At the risk of turning into a blog that puts of the same picture thirty times in the same post, here it is again. We bought the umbrella on clearance this morning.

 Right next to the children digging a tunnel through to the other side of the world.

 With room for a baby.

 And a little bit of gravel we bought this morning. Not being handy, it seemed ill-advised to try to buy paving stones when its very possible we would do a terrible job of laying them down. This is completely fool-proof.

 And the baby sleeps on fatly.

 And here's one of the chairs.

I wasn't even Asking God for anything like this, although apparently Matt was. I was just wishing I was on top of the laundry. But now I don't have to do the laundry because We Are Never Going Inside Again.

Inroads

Every upswing in energy and growth in the church seems to be met with a serious wall of struggle and opposition. This makes sense, of course, because if the Gospel of Jesus is spreading and taking root in people's lives, the enemy is being destroyed, which I imagine must be awfully frustrating.

Inroads

Our summer festival, about which I neglected to blog, was a resounding and encouraging success. Many many people came and availed themselves of all we had--ice cream, hot dogs, the tooth fairy, pony rides, the list goes on and on. Our on going efforts to build relationships in the neighborhood through tutoring and the community garden and so on are going swimmingly better than my skeptical heart imagined possible. The relationships are real and the opportunity to talk about Jesus is real.

More even so, during Solemn Communion last night I had the chance to lay out the good news about Jesus explicitly for the little boy who comes over to play all the time (let's call him Buddy because he's our Buddy and because I'm stumped thinking of a cooler name than his own, which is cooler than cool). He has never been able to sit still for more than 30 seconds, precluding then, the possibility to come to Sunday School or even sit through Children's Chapel. And yet last night he was sitting forward on his knees, rehearsing the little he knows about God, and adding to it word by word as I told him about Jesus.

After Solemn Communion and Shepherd's Bowl, while tons of people hung about in the parking lot and kids ran crazily around the play ground, an enormous bang shattered the quiet and smoke snaked ominously towards the gray twilight sky. The only other time I've seen Matt run that fast is when he jumped our short fence two years ago to chase some young stalking jerk who was peering in our neighbor's window and  harassing her on a cell phone. Actually every man in the parking lot and from several houses along the road took off, seeing the smoke. But the car wasn't on fire and police and fire department were there in under five minutes (especially since about 20 different people called 911). The driver of the car, our same neighbor no less, was fine, though totally shaken. Matt, after discovering who she was, ran up to get her son and father and bring them down the street and was able to pray with and comfort her little boy. After I post this I'm going to bake a cake to take next door. I don't know what could be more helpful than cake (I'm serious, if you can think of something more helpful please let me know because it feels terribly trite, just to take cake).

Anyway, the opportunities, even only counting prayer, which is enormous because I hadn't remembered to pray for them since our previous encounter, are abundant. Its almost As If, crazy though it sounds, God wants us to know and care for and pray for our neighbors.

A Foretaste of our Busy Weekend

In the present instance, going back to the liver-pill circular, I had the symptoms, beyond all mistake, the chief among them being 'a general disinclination to work of any kind'. What I suffer in that way no tongue can tell. From my earliest infancy I have been a martyr to it. As a boy, the disease hardly ever left me for a day. They did not know, then, that it was my liver. Medical science was in a far less advanced state than now, and they used to put it down to laziness.
'Why, you skulking little devil, you,' they would say, 'get up and do something for your living, can't you?--not knowing, of course, that I was ill.
And they didn't give me pills; they gave me clumps on the side of the head. And, strange as it may appear, those clumps on the head often cured me--for the time being. I have known one clump on the head have more effect upon my liver, and make me feel more anxious to go straight away then and there, and do what was wanted to be one, without further loss of time, than a whole box of pills does now. You know, it often is so--those simple, old-fashioned remedies are sometimes more efficacious than all the dispensary stuff.

Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat

This Fisk Wasn't for Me but I'm taking it anyway

One Phyllis Strupp, of whom I have never before heard, thinks that Father, and by that I presume she means God, doesn't always know best. Father, by whom we assume she means God (I'm kidding, I know she doesn't mean God, I'm  just messing with her), needs the Holy Spirit, whom it's clear she assumes is "female" to get it right.

Jesus was loud and clear on this point: God has both masculine, left-brained qualities in God the father as well as feminine, right-brained qualities in God the Holy Spirit.

And then there's this

Is the idolatry of male power in a patriarchal society preventing us from seeing the Trinity more clearly -- and receiving the wisdom and aid of the Holy Spirit? Do we grieve the Holy Spirit, as Paul warned us not to do in Ephesians 4:30-31:

And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.

Is that right? Men are filled with all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice? Whereas "the ladies" are not?

Father doesn't always know best. Sometimes he does, and sometimes he doesn't. He's only human, after all. Sometimes mother knows best. No one person is the only source of grace in a family, congregation, diocese, business, or society -- and no one person should shoulder all the blame for failures. Let's give father a break and put our heads (left brains and right brains) together and find new ways to welcome the Holy Spirit and satisfy the spiritual hunger of our times!

To which I reply
Phyllis, Know Your Limits!

Whine

Why isn't there a hue and a cry (backed up with money from some rich underground lair dweller) for Anglican Women and Mothers to get together for a blogging conference so that we could all meet each other face to face? The Catholics do it all the time. Tisn't fair.

We could meet near some lovely gorgeous beach with a beautiful chapel and pray the hours and eat beautiful food and hear talks from each other (or anyone we might choose to invite).

Jessica could lead Writing and Exercise Workshops.

Kerry could do something on homeschooling and the church year. (Blog Kerri! Blog!)

Jeanne could tell us about how to balance church and family and older children.

Annie could talk about homeschooling, missison, and gardening.

I will sit in the cool shade listening and eating bon bons. What fabulous Anglican Women do you want to hear from or meet?

I might as well be Santa

My first answer to nearly everything my children ask me is always a full throat-ed and enthusiastic "NO!!!".
"Can I have a snack?"
"No, no no you'll spoil your dinner!"
"Can I go play in the mud?"
"NO NO NO It is not in my mind to bathe you tonight!"
"Can I have all the children in the church over to play this afternoon?"
"ARE YOU Kidding ME? NO!"
"Can I eat this bug?"
"No! Well, maybe if it doesn't look poisonous."
"Can I help you cook?"
"Oh baby, not right now. Mommy needs to be alone in the kitchen right now or she will loose her mind."

Except today I turned into the fuzzy bunny Santa tooth fairy of money and candy.
"You vacuumed the office?! AWESOME! Here's a dollar."
"You guys want to build a fort? Here's a whole mattress and a board to build a wall. Yeah sure, take all the tea cups and a bucket of water."
And then this evening, "Sure, you can sleep in the fort."

They're not sleeping though. Its like a carnival in there. And it sounds like there's six forts, or something. Probably Santa Mama will be up in the middle of the night when everyone freaks out and tries to get in her bed. Night Night!

Sermon on the Feast of Pentecost

We’ll be mainly in Acts 2 this morning, if you’d like to go there in your Bible.

Luke writes, 'When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place.' It’s a bewitching line, they were all together in one place, all 120 of them—the only believers in Jerusalem, all together, waiting because Jesus had told them to. To say bewitching because it gets to the heart of a deep human need and longing. Many weeks ago we talked about the Tower of Babel, how after the flood, the descendants of Noah were supposed to spread out and fill the whole earth, but instead, they gathered all together in one place, on the plane of Shinar, and tried to make a name for themselves, tried to be like God. The result of this disobedience was the complete confusion of their language—no one could understand each other and so they dispersed. Many thousands of years later we are still trying to gather and build and be together, but even and especially in a city like this there is a deep brokenness, a deep fragmentation between and amongst people.

Matt was emailed an article this week about a BU professor of evolutionary biology, one Dr. David Wilson, for those of you who are connected with the university. He is a self-described atheist, and he has a drive to improve the conditions and state of this city. Most particularly he is interested in religion as one vehicle among many to achieve social change, for the good, hopefully. He is interested in and has affection for the Christian churches in this city and is conducting real research into understanding why some congregations in Binghamton are growing and some are in serious decline. As part of his research, he has made a differentiation between open churches and closed. Ours, I think, theologically, he would define as closed in that we "adhere strictly to the Bible." He has noted that open churches, more theologically liberal churches, in other words, are declining, generally, while more closed churches, in this area, are growing. As an atheist, naturally, he is looking for a non-supernatural explanation for this phenomenon. Why do people choose to meet together in one kind of group rather than the other? The answer must be inside them. He posits, for example, that in these uncertain times people are looking for "group solidarity" or perhaps "firm and clear guidance." He isn't sure, but he is curious, and he hopes to survey the roughly 100 congregations across this city. More than that, he would like more groups to achieve ‘prosociality’, to cohere together in a meaningful and good way so that the whole city is made better.

I confess to reading the entire article with interest and delight. The fact is, for 2 millennia, Christians have been meeting together in various places, whilst the world passes by outside gazing in with curiosity and sometimes mistrust while we go on worshiping a Holy and yet accessible God. Worshiping him in the same way for roughly 2000 years, bound together, certainly full of strife and brokenness, and yet bound together.

This is a mysterious, holy and supernatural thing, and I would like us to unpack it a little bit together.  And let’s start with a little background about the Feast of Pentecost as a way to understand what is going on in Acts 2.

Pentecost wasn’t originally a Christian Feast, it was an established Jewish Holy Day—established, no less, by God in the Old Testament. It was the last in a series of three feasts. The first feast was Passover or the Feast of Unleavened Bread. The second was the First Fruits. This is a little complicated so bear with me. The first day after the Sabbath of Passover Week, that makes it Sunday, because the Sabbath is Saturday. On that day, Sunday, the first fruits, the very first stocks or shoots of barley were picked and bundled loosely together and brought to the temple. You brought them as a sign of your trust and faith in God to provide and grow the rest of the barley harvest.

Fifty days after that same Sabbath after Passover week, putting you on another Sunday, a week of weeks, 7 weeks, the symbol of perfection or completion, the first fruits, the first grain of the wheat harvest was picked but this time it was not gathered loosely like with a string, it was crushed and baked into two loaves of leavened bread. These two loaves were brought to the temple again as a sign and trust of God’s Providence and care.

These three feasts paint an incredible picture of Salvation History—At Passover, unleavened bread is eaten. That very week Jesus, who had no sin, who had no leaven, was arrested, tried and gave himself up to death, the grain of wheat that falls into the ground and dies. He is in the grave over the Sabbath. On Sunday, the very day Jews celebrated first fruits, he is raised up. “Christ,” writes Paul in 1^st Corinthians 15, “has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep.” Jews at that time expected the resurrection of the dead to be everybody all at once. So it would be difficult to understand why God would raise only one man. But Paul sees that God has prepared and predicted just such a thing in this feast of first fruits. Here Christ is raised first, just like the first barley shoots, the pledge, the promise of a true and complete harvest, the bodily resurrection of those who believe in him.

Fifty days later, while all of Israel is bringing two loaves of leavened bread to the temple as a sign of trust that God would bring a full wheat harvest, when they, the 120, were all together in one place, there came a sound like a mighty rushing wind, filling the house, And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them rested on them and they were filled with the Holy Spirit.

Just as Jesus is the first fruits of those who will be raised from the dead, the guarantee, the pledge, the promise of the resurrection that we hope and long for, so the coming of the Holy Spirit is another kind of pledge, a seal, a guarantee. Paul makes the connection for us in Ephesians 1, let’s turn there, “In him,” writes Paul in Ephesians 1:13, “ you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, you were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.” That you are and will be a child of God forever, in his presence, living forever with him.

The Holy Spirit comes as the promise of the ultimate inheritance we gain as children of God.

And in that moment the church is formed—not tied together with a mere string, loosely, but a body, a loaf of bread, but this time with leaven, because we still sometimes sin and fall into strife and brokenness.

But as the tongues alight on them and the mighty rushing wind fills the upper room, two remarkable things happen.

One, the church is forged into one body. The fire of God, a holy fire, unifies them, not individuals only in a room together, they become One Body, the Body of Christ, they are of One Spirit, they have One Hope, they have One Faith, One Father—unified, their spirits bound together in the body of the one whom they adore, Jesus. And in that unity the second remarkable thing happens.

They spill out of the room and they speak the gospel. For two thousand years the church has been trying to wreck this spilling out and speaking by holding endless committee meetings and starting programs and arguing and being prideful. But at this first coming of the Holy Spirit the wind is So Powerful, the Fire is so Bright that they are pushed out, spilled out into the street and there they all speak.

A complete reversal of Babel, where every tongue spoke and confusion, broken horrific confusion broke out. Here, every tongue is different and 3000 people hear the Unified Voice of God, each in their own language, to turn around, to repent, to grasp a hold of the Living Christ to believe and trust in him, and they do.

They hear.

They turn.

They believe.

Talk about “group solidarity”!

These first believers have one heart, one mind, meeting together, devoting themselves to the apostles teaching, to the prayers, and to the breaking of the bread, just as we are doing this very morning.

So here’s how it works. Jesus, the risen Son of God who sits on the right hand of God the Father, can live in you, spiritually, through the Holy Spirit when you believe and trust in Jesus and commit your way to him becoming his follower, his disciple. And then, because everyone who has ever done that had the very same thing happen to them, had/has the Holy Spirit alive in them,

you are bound together, supernaturally, spiritually with every other believer from every time and place—with the person who sits next to you in the pew whom you have never spoken to because you’re a little shy and because it’s their first Sunday and you don’t have a clue what you would say beyond, ‘The peace of the Lord be always with you.’ With the person who is worshiping on the other side of town in one of those churches “adhere strictly to the Bible,” to the believers in Kuinde church on the other side of the world who this Sunday morning took their benches down from the rafters of their little tin church to follow the same liturgy we do here, to pray the prayers, to break bread, who not only believe, but who have God alive in them to the church across China, many of whom worship in stealth because of persecution. This is the body of Christ,

broken for the world, the loaves of golden bread, baked together into unity is not something we feel, though sometimes we may have an inkling, it is something that IS. It is a unity in God that exists, that is. 

“What is your name?”

said Moses at the Burning Bush,

the bush that burned and burned but was never consumed.

“I AM that I AM”.

That is who lives in you when you turn to Jesus. This God, this ALL Consuming Fire that lives in you will drive you out, will move you to do his will, will change your heart, will rearrange the furniture of your mind, will purify you and make you a good and holy dwelling place for himself. 

Come, taste the first fruits of this promise, see the goodness of the Lord who has provided such a great salvation, who loves you so much that he not only died, he lives in you, knows you better even than you know yourself, who speaks when you don’t know what to say, loves with a love greater than yours, And sends you out into the world to speak his word.

Now in the fading light of day

Romulus came weeping down to the laundry room. "They're not letting me have FUN!" he shouted.
"They're not letting me destroy anything," he wept.
"I am so so sorry to hear that," I said, "did you ask them for a turn?"
"I did but they wouldn't."

Which is really, if you come right down to it, not very far off from my daily interaction with the Lord Most High.

I was supposed to do stuff today but I can't remember what it was...

Comfortable Cat

Comfortable Baby

Rhododendron out the front

Letter Writing

Angry Letter Writing

Letter Writing

Disobedient Letter Writing

New Rose Bush

Zucchini 

Lettuce

Old Rose

Because it wasn't hot enough I made bread

and baked a stuupiid turkey (to channel Gladys).

a Weekend in Conversation

Gladys, snuggled deeply and comfortably in my lap: "I hate that song."

Me laughing hysterically: "Hate is a pretty strong word. Do you know what it means?"
Gladys: "It means I don't like it at all. I hate that song."
Me: "Why do you hate it?"
Gladys: "I don't know."
Me: "I think its lovely."
Gladys: "I weally weally hate it."
Matt: "I don't think you should use that word, Gladys."
Gladys with relish: "Like stupid. Just like I can't say sstuupiid."

Much Later
Matt: "So you're saying you wouldn't have married me if my name was Weiner?"
Me: "That's right. Not until you changed your name."
The jokes so so so write themselves.

And finally Marigold has finally added more to her vocabulary of 'Daddy' and 'No'. She can also say 'I want that'. What a delightful child.

For a Saturday Evening

He is the Way.

Follow Him through the Land of Unlikeness;

You will see rare beasts, and have unique adventures.

He is the Truth.

Seek Him in the Kingdom of Anxiety;

You will come to a great city that has expected your return for years.

He is the Life.

Love Him in the World of the Flesh;

And at your marriage all its occasions shall dance for joy.

W.H. Auden, chorus from Christmas Oratorio

Seven Quick Takes

One

Solemn Communion got off to a rambunctious and successful start last night. Its been about 5 years since we had enough kids at the right age to do the program to its full. It means 5 Thursday night mediation/instruction times, a full retreat day and a Sunday morning honoring/recognition time of the work they've done. I always forget that 2nd/3rd graders are deeply fascinated with death, hell and Satan and not so much enthralled by the love of Jesus. I always fill my meditations with lovely long thoughts about how much Jesus loves us bla bla bla and have to scrap it in the middle of the hour to deal with just how it was that Satan became So Evil. Which, of course, is why we do the class at this age. Anyway, I'm looking forward to the rest of this month and the time I get to spend with these great kids.

Two

I love this new computer so so so so much. I keep insulting my husband by responding, when he says he loves me, with stuff like 'I love you too and I LOVE my computer.' Just trying to express my deep gratitude but obviously my timing is way off.

Three

After whining about never reading books, I discovered google reader and downloaded O For the Wings of a Dove which I've been trying to read for like 15 years. Its just easier to nurse and read clicking a mouse than holding an actual book. And its cooler because than I don't have to be separated from my computer even for one tiny minute...

Four

So how do you keep a house company ready (because I live next door to the church, my house Has to be company ready all the time, it just does) and tackle a big sorting or cleaning or some such other project? I've tried to keep all the kids outside, I've tried confining them to one room, I've tried "including them in the project" (what a disaster that was), but nothing works. Suggestions?

Five

Maybe I should say what I mean by 'Company Ready'. I mean, you should be able to walk in the front door without breaking your neck or feeling as if you're going to be unwell because of some horrible stench or something else vile.

Six

Gladys is weeping this very second because she wanted "meatballs for breakfast." ??? I haven't made meatballs in about 3 years. Where would she get this idea? What's wrong with sugar cereal with a prize in the box?

Seven

I'm speed reading through Job again. Man, how awful are his friends.
"Then Zophar the Naamathite answered and said:  “Should a multitude of words go unanswered, and a man full of talk be judged right? Should your babble silence men, and when you mock, shall no one shame you?"
You know, because, what a jerk, loosing all his family and getting sick and everything. I need to remember this, though, when my first instinct is to deride my husband and children when they get sick.
"What's the matter with you? Does your tummy hurt? Deal with it Bonzo!"
That's what I think in my head.

Have a happy weekend! Go check out Jen!

Oh to be like other people

So I've been reading the first three pages of Charles Williams' Descent into Hell over and over for the last three weeks. I'm not trying to memorize it or anything, I just forget that I've read it already and pick back up at the beginning and then never get farther than the first chapter. Except for last night when I finished the chapter at 10:45 at night and had to read the entire first half of The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass to be able to go to sleep. And then I had weird dreams anyway. This is why I Don't Read. If I'm going to read a new book it has to be during the day. But who really has time to sit down during the day to read something.

I mean, I do sit down six or a hundred times a day to feed the Enormous Baby who can nurse for up to an hour.  This, according to so many blogs, ought to be an ideal time "pray", "read the Bible", "blog with one hand", and "read books".

"Make the best use of your time," I read yesterday from an advice giving "Mommy Blogger" who has just had her fifth child and has it all figured out.

"Make dinner early in the day" opined a  brilliant mother of two.

"Pretend to be an amputee and train yourself to do important tasks with one hand."

Why am I reading this?! I shout silently to myself. Why am I not reading an actual book?
So I got a book. I sat down. I juggled baby and book. I stared blankly at the page and  dozed off, waking up briefly to scream hysterically at Marigold who would really and truly love to kick Enormous Baby in Enormous Head.

Whatever. I don't have to read books to be an interesting person. I have the internet.