Please Reconcile - an open letter to Bob Jones University

In general, I am not a political person. I am not a rabble rouser. I avoid conflict and confrontation.

The majority of you who come here will likely be unfamiliar with the link I'm posting above. I rarely discuss my roots or much personal information, though some of you might know I grew up in California.

And I virtually never mention the fact that I am a graduate of Bob Jones University. The primary reason is explained in that link above.

To be honest, when I first applied to attend there and was accepted, I did not realize that the school's past was linked with segregational/racist policies. It wasn't immediately apparent there in campus life, either; it simply didn't come up all that often for me to consider seriously, and it didn't affect me personally. I'm just some white girl; nothing extraordinary about me.

Now, however, I look back at certain events that occurred during my time there (2 specific instances of "whites" being counseled/forbidden to date "Asians") and I grieve about this-- the damage done to the testimony of Jesus Christ and His Church. And I regret that I didn't have the boldness to stand up and say something at the time. As I mentioned in the first paragraph, I'm by nature a non-confrontational person--though that is not an excuse.

I didn't realize that the association of my college degree would carry over into my first job interview, post-graduation. I was applying for a teaching position at a Christian school, when the principal asked me what I thought about the school's celebrating Martin Luther King Day. I wasn't sure where this question was going, to be honest. I don't remember what I answered--though I am a big fan of just about any holiday off from school ;). What floored me and sickened me was the follow-up question: "What do you feel about having a black student in your class?" I stammered out a response; why should I care what color a kid is? They're all just people! But the name of the granting institution on my degree colored (hah) certain assumptions about me as a person.

No matter how many times I tried to say, "it wasn't like that, REALLY, it wasn't" - I would hear examples of old-school graduates who, sadly, WERE. My English teacher colleague/friend Claire Teague commented to me she'd never met a BJU graduate who was as laid-back as I and Jim Mailloux (another BJ grad and colleague @ the school) were about race/segregation. My elementary teacher colleague, who, upon hearing I attended Bob Jones, said, "Oh, he was the racist, right?" (She later came to me, weeping and apologetic if she had hurt my feelings. Judi, you don't need to apologize for anything.) My friend whose grandparents-in-law - BJU affiliated - disapproved of her marrying their grandson, because she is Asian.

It's grievous. It's a blight on those who name the name of Christ. It's a reproach.

So there is a call from the alumni and past students to the current administration to make things right. Be it known that I am a lifetime member of the Alumni Association, charged with keeping the school true to the Faith delivered once for all to the saints.

May the testimony of Christ shine forth clearly.

Edit: I am not posting this because I'm a disgruntled soul with an axe to grind. I am jealously watching out for the reputation of an institution that I have loved through the years, in hopes that wrongs can be made right.

Other alumni have been much more eloquent than I am in this instance, and if I knew how to do trackback things, I would.

the last man on earth = the last kid awake

D. awoke this morning, barking like a seal, voice high and reedy. Could I find the thermometer? No. I have a pretty good sense of what a fever feels like, though, and he definitely was on the warm side. That, plus no appetite--strong indicators that the child is not well. So D and I spent the morning at home, away from church people.

After he woke up and nibbled a few bites of oatmeal, followed by a cup of hot tea, he settled in to watch some 50's Sci-fi/horror movies (he's a fan of the monster genre), while I continued to work on my list from yesterday, occasionally pausing to visit Piper's web site, Bible Gateway, SermonAudio, etc.

D decided to watch an old Vincent Price movie called The Last Man on Earth. I warned him. Vampire zombies are one thing by daylight (flopped lifeless on the ground) - but after dark are quite another thing all together--and can be rather nervewracking.

He scorned my advice. "Mom. (eyeroll) This isn't scary at all." I decided to let it pass.



So guess which kid is still awake right now, wanting company--ANY company, so long as he doesn't have to be alone?

the unexpected task

Saturdays are catch-up days around here. The mowing-grass, pick-up yards, clean guinea pig cages, do some extra laundry and tidy the house days. Swish and swipe the bathroom sink, mirror, and floor days. Cook a few meals and put them in the fridge for busy weekdays days.

On that last front, I sent D to the garage freezer to retrieve some frozen Bubba (the name of the beef cow we purchased from Jennifer - it's so trendy-green to meet your meat!). He returned, saying he couldn't find any. This I knew to be inaccurate--we bought a quarter of a cow and I know that what's left of Bubba takes up the entire top shelf. I went out to the garage to prove my dear son wrong...obviously he hadn't looked hard enough.

When I got there, though, I couldn't find any Bubba either--not easily. Apparently someone decided to set up a shave-ice business in my freezer by leaving the door ajar. Here in Western Washington, all that moisture in the air makes great, furry icicles on the freezer coils.

So with a sunny day outside, I decided I had time to unplug, empty, and defrost the freezer. An unexpected task, but necessary if we were ever to locate food to eat from our stockpiles. I loaded the berries into one laundry basket, the corn, fish and chicken into the next, and finally uncovered Bubba from the top. Some parts of Bubba refused to leave the freezer, glued by ice to the coils, fighting for their very... well, if not life, at least avoidance of consumption.
I let them remain for the time being.

Armed with a kettle of boiling water and some crummy towels, I set the hot pot in the freezer to let the kettle do its work while I went back to my Saturday "can we fix it? yes we can!" list.

A. must have thought I had too much to do on my list, because while I was in between cooking a pot roast and cleaning guinea pigs, he took over the defrosting task (thanks!).

Meanwhile, I got two meals prepared: Bubba barley soup with butterhorn rolls, and pot roast Bubba. The butterhorns were a test-drive recipe to see if they'd be suitable to bring to Thanksgiving dinner with the Millers next week. Unfortunately, I let the milk/butter on the stove get too hot, so I think I killed the yeast in the bread dough. The flavor was great; the texture, not so much. (I have yeast bread issues. Successful breads from my kitchen almost always originate with my Breadmaster, rather than my kneading prowess.) Then again, I checked the yeast jar, and the expiration stamp said "SEPT 2008," so I may not have been completely to blame. Verdict: try again. I don't consider any baking project to be beyond my grasp. (Miffed Sniff)

Dinner last night was ground Bubba dolled up with a jar of Trader Joe's Eggplant Caponata (the family says BUY THIS AGAIN), served over linguini noodles. Basically, spaghetti with meat sauce, but oh, the sauce! A. will be near a TJ's tomorrow when he takes S. to choir, so I'll send him with a shopping list.

The evening wore on, and, after getting kids in and out of bathing (D actually went without a fuss), laying out "clothes kids" (making sure we have matching/ironed clothes), and preparing church bulletins for Sunday, I finally got my carcass to bed about 11:45 p.m.

I love my bed. It's a Select Comfort sleep number bed. My number is 40. (This has been an unpaid commercial announcement.) Last night I lay there, relaxing, rewinding through the events of the day.

My heart gave a throb.

Freezer.

So with my husband lightly snoring next to me, I sighed, sat up, and headed back to the garage, where, sure enough--all the berries and meat sat in laundry baskets--a little softer than before, true, but at least not the carrion I would find if I had remembered the following morning.

Bubba bits are back on the top shelf, with frozen veggies and other meats on the second. The berries and a casserole are on the bottom two shelves. All is well, all is refrozen, all is de-iced.

I don't quite know what the moral of this story is, other than if it wasn't on your list, and you start it, you'd better be sure you finish it.

Wow! Gas is 2.07 @ costco! I just filled my tank for under 30 bucks!

tag (x3), I'm it

Thanks, Christy, Rebecca and Crystal, for assuming that I actually have something interesting and random to share. Well, random I can do....interesting, not always so much.

7 random things about me, that may or may not be interesting:

1. I have nightmares about the kids destroying the house in some way. I dream that there's crud all over the floor, or puddles of chocolate (well, that really happened once), or broken glass, or a tipped-over bag of potting soil seeping down into my carpet. Then I (in my dream state) proceed to feel extremely guilty: WHY didn't I know this had happened? HOW LONG has it been this way and I didn't know? I must be such a horrible mom/wife/housekeeper because my house looks this way - can't I even keep track of my kids? Where ARE the kids, anyway? I have dreams like this several times a month, and I wake up, anxious, heart pounding, and depressed.

2. I love, love, love California roll sushi. I learned how to make it this past summer. Great thing is, I am the ONLY person in my house who likes it, so the treat is all mine, MINE I tell you.

3. I don't like to stand by the side of the bed. When I was a kid, I would always enter bed by climbing up from the foot. The monsters weren't expecting me to get in down there; I tricked 'em that way. Nowadays I DO enter from the side, but I catch myself quickly swinging up my feet, out of reach of the edge of the bed......just in case, you understand. If you're clever, some of you can divine the scariest part (for me) of the movie The Sixth Sense.

4. I hate to go shopping for clothes. It's very stressful. I have to go alone, because it takes my total concentration, and I can't be bothered with short ones talking to me, asking me to buy thisnthat... I love it, though, when someone hands me a big bag and says, "Here, look and see if there's anything in here that you like, and give away the rest."

5. I'm exceptional at grammar, usage and mechanics of the English language. (You are hereby ordered to ignore all errors on my own blog forthwith.) I have a flair button on my facebook page that says "Yes, I corrected your grammar. Trust me, it sounds better my way." Now, I'm not as bad as all that--I will not SAY anything. But I will think it, and I cannot help myself.

6. We keep guinea pigs around so they can mow the backyard grass during the summer. That's why A. tolerates them: they're utilitarian pets. They're also cute little fuzzballs, which is why I have four of them. I'd have more if space allowed. Next summer I want to get some chickens, too--make one of those chicken tractors, and have fresh eggs (no more sweat shop eggs, a la Seinfeld).

7. I can sing a high C, but I'm an alto.

does the exception prove the rule?

When you're taking educational method classes in college, you are taught to praise a child's work ethic, rather than his intelligence. Compare "Wow, you really worked hard on this-- and I can tell" with, "Wow, you did great on this - you must be really smart"

Praising a child's persistence and determination actually goes much farther in building a student's learning habits. Why? Because the next time your student faces a difficult problem, s/he will be more likely to think, "Hey, if I work hard enough, I can come up with the answer." The student who's praised for his intelligence tends to cave under the pressure of a difficult problem, reasoning thus: "I don't understand this. I must not be very smart after all."

So today, while studying math word problems involving fractions, D was presented with this question on his assessment: "There were 56 students on a track team and 16 of them won first-place ribbons. What fractional part of the team won first-place ribbons?"

After about 10 minutes of deliberation, D finally came up with the answer of 16/56, reduced to lowest terms: 2/7.

Naturally I came forth with the praise for "job well done, lad - you worked hard, and you found out the answer all by yourself, and you were RIGHT. How does that feel?" (Must praise the student for his hard work, not his intelligence, after all--the cognitive science shows that!)

And my dear son replied, "Kinda makes me wonder if it was worth all that time and effort."

Clearly, a boy after Thoreau's heart.

Spit. Spit and blast it all.

(Insert more extreme grousing here). David Tennant is LEAVING DOCTOR WHO.

What else is there to say, other than.....WHY did Russell Davies have Ten go through some bogus regeneration bit ---back into himself at the series 4 end?! And does that count as a true regeneration (making him really Ten and Eleven), because Time Lords only get 13 regenerative cycles? Though somehow the Master, renegade Time Lord that he is, got more regenerations allotted to him somehow. Stole 'em off some other Time Lord when they weren't looking?

anyway. JUST...... MEH.

Translation: David Tennant is my favorite Doctor ever. EVER. Drat, Drat, Drat.

Sorry, this isn't coherent, it's just raving lunacy.

mental blogging

Yanno, ever since I put that button over there <--- for BWO (Blogging Without Obligation) - I've noticed that my posting has become ever more inconsistent. Maybe it should be BWW: Blogging Without Writing. Or Mental Blogging. Blogging Without Actually Doing It.

Whatever it is, I don't feel guilty about it in the slightest, though I am feeling rather disconnected from all of you whom I keep on my blogroll! (Which, BTW, I keep short, because I haven't got time for the guilt of not staying "aware" of you if you're on there and i don't read your carefully-crafted pearls of wisdom!)

I thank you, those of you who prayed for me. The retreat was last Friday/Saturday, following immediately on the heels of a visit from Grandma Karen from Michigan. The challenge was to properly honor and spend time with one we see rarely, as well as properly pray and prepare my soul for being the speaker at a ladies' retreat!

The Lord is good: by staying up to ungodly hours (ooh, irony) and getting up even earlier, I was able to scrape together some hermit time to prepare three different, yet connected, messages.

I have this thing about public speaking: I can't do it, unless the topic is incredibly important and relevant to me. So that's been my prayer--that the Lord would give me exactly what I need to change and grow, so I can pass that along to others who might need to hear the same thing. Otherwise, why should any woman waste her money and time just to hear another talking head?

The theme was Walk Worthy, from Colossians 1:10 - but I immediately felt determined that this was NOT going to be just another list of what good Christian moms ought to DO, to DRESS LIKE, to READ, to STYLE THEIR HAIR LIKE. I come from a background of too much cart preceeding too little horse.

So Friday night message was "The Cross: The WHY of Walking Worthy" --subtitled Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing: I shared the Gospel of Christ. And because I couldn't say it any better than the Lord, after the introductory comments and so forth, I just shared scripture passages telling of the Father's love for us, His mercy, our hopelessness without Him, our living Hope, Jesus Christ. How our lives lived post-salvation are to be structured around not some rule or list as if that were the all-important thing, but that our love for the Lord would control/inspire us. He gave ALL for us. This is why we are to walk worthy of the Lord.

Saturday morning was "Abiding: the HOW of Walking Worthy" --jumping into John 15, where we're told we can do NOTHING apart from abiding in the Vine, Jesus Christ. We spend too much time laboring to produce fruit, when fruit is something that occurs naturally by being in the Vine. Harriet Beecher Stowe had some amazing remarks that I came across (thanks to A.) last summer, which were great to close with. And even better - Ephesians 2:10 - We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God has prepared for us beforehand. God prepared the good works for me. And coolest of all: workmanship is the Greek word poiema: POEM. Though some days I might feel like the "stodgiest of prose" (I'm sure that's a LM Montgomery quote from one of the Emily books)- I'm actually a poem. :)

Saturday afternoon was where I felt I needed some bolstering. I did not want to conclude all this by turning to the list of What To Do To Walk Worthy In Three Easy Steps. So in steps Lisa with a suggestion that I get (and quickly, too) Living The Cross-Centered Life by CJ Mahaney. (ooh, I see that Tim Challies is the #1 reviewer on Amazon. Can the force of commendation any further go? I digress...) So the final message I spoke on "Put Those Plates Down!" Ironically enough, many is the time I've likened my life to a series of spinning plates that I have to keep in the air, or I absolutely suck at (insert whatever failing of mine here.) So I was riveted to the book when Pastor Mahaney specifically mentioned the sideshow act of spinning plates, trying to earn God's love, favor, and approval--WHICH WE ALREADY HAVE. We are never "more saved" or more loved than we are right now. I was so encouraged and blessed by that thought... I knew it, but I hadn't really believed it, because I feel like I'm in a rat race so much of the time. I have to learn anew to stop and realign my thinking to match the Word, when I'm feeling overdrawn, resentful, rebellious, and irritated.

Anyway, that's the basic gist of it. I was encouraged by the Word that I studied, and I was glad to have fellowship with the ladies. One lady even gave me a handmade bracelet with Swarovski (sp?) crystals on it, representing the Fruit of the Spirit, following the John 15 message. That was unexpected, and totally nice of her. It's beautiful too, and I'm not much for wearing jewelry.

The retreat did take its toll on me; Sunday was pretty much spent in a mental and physical fog. By yesterday, however, I was caught up on sleep. (I'm depriving myself now by Actually Blogging, rather than Mentally Blogging, but that's beside the point.)

So it's 11:04 p.m. and I'm going to take my advice to myself and get some rest. :) (That means Facebook too!) Wednesday looms large: I have about 3 hours of solid schooling with the kids before the piano students come all afternoon/early evening.

I'll try to catch up with you all come Thursday!

Shirt: just pretend i'm not here. That's what i'm doing .

people watching

Yesterday during my shift at the Puyallup Fair Museum, I was approached by a woman who looked like Margaret Thatcher, from her coif to her big bow at her throat, to her elegant pumps.

"You have a nice smile, E_." (obviously she can read my nametag.)

"Thank you." (I smile again; what other response is there?)

"Do you know what the ingredients are for a Honeymoon Salad?"

This question, though a complete non sequitur for an opening salvo, does not faze me. Quirky people amuse me, and I know the answer.

"Lettuce alone."

"Lettuce alone, no dressing!"

I chuckle. She tries once more on me.

"If you're an American in the kitchen, then what are you in the bathroom?"

"European."

She's amazed at me, I can tell.

"How do you know all this?"

"I have a father."



That was all the quizzing I received from her. She'd have to step it up quite a bit to catch me on one of those oldy moldy witticisms.

We'll see who I meet today... it's the weekend, when the weirdos come out to The Fair.

Shirt: "i see dumb people.."

of ants and cryptids

"Mom, can you hand me the can of WD-40?"

"Sure....why?"

"It belongs in the shed. I'll put it away."

That in itself should have roused my suspicions. My son never just puts anything away.


Earlier yesterday afternoon, he had used a magnifying glass to some purpose on the ant colony that lives in the crack of our driveway. A veritable swarm of ants came out to see what was cooking, literally. The ants who successfully navigated their way up his pant leg did not leave him unmarked. Their displeasure at his disturbance resulted in 7 or 8 nice-looking bites on his left knee and thigh.

So when it was time to leave for evening church, I noticed hordes of ants, dead, around the crack in the driveway. Apparently D has discovered that aerosol spray makes a totally awesome flamethrower. A pox on whoever let that gem of knowledge slip to my overactive son. The neighbors should never rest easy now unless there's a fire extinguisher close at hand. Even more disturbing is that I didn't know he was at it until the deed had long been done and over with. (Canning tomatoes is such an engrossing activity, you know.)

Today he has decided, in the spirit of last week's Bigfoot hoax (which, incidentally, was heralded with great grief under this roof), to perpetrate a hoax of his own. Puyallup needs a cryptid of its own, by golly, and he's the one to do it.

The plan involves a baby dragon of some type. Dragons, of course, breathe fire--apparently yesterday's success with the ants gave rise to some further creativity and planning. I, however, will be a total wet blanket to any further flamethrowing activity. This is extremely unpopular with my son, but I am concerned for the Greater Good here.

Now he is looking for stink bombs or smoke bombs left over from July 4.

Not for nothing does he own a t-shirt that says "Every great idea I have gets me in trouble."

i'm not fluffy at heart, really...

Okay, I'm outing myself, because I really need the prayer support, if you feel called to give it.

A few months ago I was asked to be the speaker at a ladies' retreat. My husband felt I should say yes to this opportunity, since he will be speaking at the same retreat, but to the teens. (If we could find someone to watch our children, which we have.)

I write a lot of fluff here, I know that. I find it difficult to speak of things that are close to my heart and/or personal. I'm the one who wants everyone to get along and be happy and share a laugh or two together.

I am intimidated at the thought of this retreat. What can I say in 3 different sessions that these ladies need to hear? I do not want these women to sacrifice their precious time and money to attend this retreat, only for them to leave spiritually hungry and feeling like it was a waste of time.

So would you just pray for me, that I would present Christ to these women, and that I would fade out of the picture?

The theme is "Walk Worthy" - which has many many MANY ways to be approached. I've been doing quite a bit of reading, as well as praying ("HELP!"), but now that there's about one month left, I need to start narrowing it down to the three messages I need to give.

Thanks for reading. And for praying.

the REAL text message I sent:

I am sitting in the van, having just dropped the kids at swim lessons. D has been treating me to a super-size helping of grouse. Naturally, swimming interferes with his ideal plans for what a summer day should be. Should I tell him that we're starting school-lite this week?

I am sitting in the van, having just dropped the kids at swim lessons. D has been treating me to a super-size helping of gr

defenders of the blueberry patch

I'm grateful for the fact that we have 5 lovely blueberry bushes of different varieties and sizes. At this time of year, we spend probably 30 minutes daily harvesting those berries that have passed from pale green, to blush red, to a plump, frosty blue.

We aren't the only ones who enjoy the blueberries, either. Sparrows, chickadees, and cedar waxwings all enjoy swooping in for a few pecks... sometimes even while I'm in the bush, picking!

So we daily defend our harvest against those thieving birds! I realize that they don't get away with all that much, so I don't begrudge them a few nibbles here and there. Plus, when the elderberries come in, they'll be able to gorge themselves, because our bushes produce more elderberries than I can possibly handle or use.


On other fronts:

D went frogging several times this week and brought home Charlie and Twitch. (This is Charlie)

They're now living in the turtle pond in the backyard. I hope they have the wits not to become dinner for the red-eared sliders. I'm fond of frogs and would hate to see that happen.

My kidlet S is very interested in American Girl things. She has the doll that's her namesake, she gets the magazine, she has all the movies.

The magazines always feature kid-friendly recipes and crafts for her to try, and so as a result she's made some "stained glass" cookies (cut out cookies with melted jolly ranchers in the middle), she's made some kind of tempura paint/waterbottle/fish thing--all kinds of neat, girlish things. The most recent magazine featured ice cream sandwiches, which nobody really needs, but she was dying to try them out. So we baked our favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe, and she prepared them for the family using chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream from Tillamook, and rolled the edges in chocolate chips. Decadent stuff.

Meanwhile, I was "facebooking" (a fabulous time waster I might add) and not really monitoring what was going on. So when it was time for bed, S came groaning and whimpering into my room, "Mooomm, I feeeell siiiiick...."

Upon questioning, I discovered that, FIRST, she'd eaten a whole bowl of ice cream. THEN, because the weather is so hot, and everything was melting so fast... she'd also eaten THREE ice cream sandwiches!!!

She got no sympathy from me, but perhaps she learned a lesson: both about the sin of gluttony, and WHERE YOU CAN PUT THINGS if they're melting and you don't want them to. (smacking head and rolling eyes).

Fishing at the park

D considers any day not spent with some time fishing as a day wasted. So yesterday afternoon, as usual, he packed up his pole and gear and headed off to the park a block away.

He returned around dinnertime, hands full with his catch:



Notice the complete lack of fins and scales there?

The story runs like this: he was fishing off the dock, when a lady walking her dog came by and mentioned she had seen a guinea pig over in the brush nearby. Not only that, but she'd seen it there several weeks previously, so this little guy's been on his own in the wild for a good bit. D, having much experience with our 4 escape-prone guinea pigs, put his trapping skills to work, and soon succeeded in catching the little wheeker and bringing him home.

Now, I'm all for guinea pigs, but we already have four FEMALES. We most certainly cannot keep a male! So tomorrow he'll be going to the Foggy Creek Cavy Rescue up in Auburn, where Lisa will treat him for mites and get him on the road to recovery (he's missing a great deal of fur on his back half) and then adopt him out to another family.

I've been telling the kids not to get attached, but they've already named him Oreo. I call him Shaggy.

The kids were inspired to write about it in their own blog, which they set up yesterday. I'm keeping it private, but if you're really interested to see how my kids think and write, email me and I'll put you on the approved list. :)


So tomorrow might be traumatic for the kids. We'll see. But Oreo has got to go. I do NOT need 12 guinea pigs around here, which is what would surely happen were he to stay.

number one son is 1-1!

Here's some pictures of D and his luau party in our backyard and surrounding environs. I didn't have any Don Ho music to play, drat!

He wanted an island cake:




We made tie-dyed t-shirts - but I made everyone wear trashbags so clothes wouldn't get ruined. N. was visiting from Eastern WA, so we were glad he could join us at the party.... he's pictured here with S, who is MY S's dearest friend. (Lotta "S" names around here!)



SUCH a clever boy... always polite for the camera.




The turtle had the right idea: shaded from the sun, right near the water.

... and the living is easy

Ah, it's been restful... kids away at Church Camp last week... painting the Master bedroom a lurvely sage green color... soaking in the kiddie pool when the temps were in the 90's... actually studying the Word of God for extended periods of time without being interrupted or losing my train of thought... piano lessons only one day per week...

if I believed in Nirvana, this would definitely come close.

Here's a few kidlet pics of our recent Seattle Center trip - D and S and lil' buddy S.


We don't know if we were allowed to play in this fountain or not... but we saw other kids doing it, so we figured why not? Plus an employee drove right by us in his golf cart without hollering at us, so we decided it was okay.




This fountain we KNOW we can play in. It's got a nice sloping pathway for you to walk down to the dome and get squirted. You just might be able to see S there over to the right, wearing her purple swim shirt and trunks.






The obligatory Space Needle shot. :)

More photos to come!