Dear Emmy, I love our conversations. this is a thought about family conferences that we were talking about.

 The treasure of Family conferences.

perhaps because you were young and small,  you don’t remember the delight of going to family conferences with fondness.

I would like to give you my perspective about the gathering of God’s people in a concentrated way and the love of the presence of God that is manifested to his gathered people who have longed and waited and prayed for his presence among them for a more prolonged season in a vacation setting.

I.  refreshing

II. hidden treasures

III. counsel and direction

IV. confirming in faith

V.  comfort for the afflicted

VI. fellowship in rejoicing

VII. a Great way to find a companion of like faith

VIII. A Help to growth and usefulness in God’s kingdom, (perhaps networking in millenialese)

XIX

Dear Emily, Why do I start salivating when we sing Row, Row Your Boat?

 row  row row your boat?

gently down the stream

merrily, merrily, merrily...

Life is a butter dream!?

The raging hunger for butter is everywhere, when you are in withdrawal from the delicious fatness! Like a bear, I go to bed and hope that my hibernation will scale down the raging bully of my appetites.  

Even the baby songs seem to advertise into my heart to reach for the icky sticky stuff that is the object of my awesome desires.  They rule over me and I press them down a bit, reaching for my Crystal Light flavored Chobani{my new fat free ice cream substitute} to satiate my obsessive passions.  They work for a minute or two and I give in to a piece of bread and a pat of butter to relieve my pain.  

I slept off my shakes and the headache, but my conscious state is preoccupied with the constant rushing pain of trying to lessen my butter intake.  The air fryer is helping with some of the other oils, but nothing replaces my pat of butter on my bread or my buttered waffle for a comfort in a pinch.

What are you comforting yourself for this week?  I broke a fingernail.  I stubbed my toe.  I need some bread and butter!  It is only fair.  It has become like sucking my thumb. It needs to be subdued and I will continue to pray and confess my sins and keep striving toward my deliverance from this affliction and present addiction!

My Joy!

http://faculty.gordon.edu/hu/bi/ted_hildebrandt/otesources/20-proverbs/text/books/bridges-proverbscommentary/bridges-proverbs.htm

If truth is marching...

Where are the Grapes of wrath stored?

Curses undone by the grace of God...

On pacifiers and the pancreas?

Could it be that too much sucking on the pacifier is actually dangerous?  Swallowing saliva all day might have some ramifications, I only imagine.   Gum chewing and pacifier sucking are quite similar in their effects I think.  We don't get to the root of the problem of anxiety in the child's experience.  Lots of saliva and lots of anxiety are the fruit of childcare hopping.  We are focusing on the need for childcare and the need of parents to work outside the home and not on the emotional and physical wellbeing of the child.  Who's health is being impacted.  Is childhood diabetes and other pancreatic disfunction related to this change in our culture.  It is amazing that we know who and how many individuals have had complications of he COVID and for years we haven't even seen the relationship between cultural changes namely mothers in the workforce so early and deaths from cancer and increases in diabetes and other ailments.  We must investigate the correlations and see if we can't rectify this and turn that curve around as well. 

What is Gone?

Who cares what was Gone with the Wind?

Beauty, gone.

Culture, gone,

Safety, gone.,

Men, gone.

Decorum, gone.

Etc.

To be replaced with what!

Ungenteel evolutionism.

“We built this culture!”  Anglo, Euro, American, polite society! They seem to scream incessantly.  I don’t blame their sad and sullen embrace of the prereconstructionist south.  It was beautiful.  Hauntingly beautiful so that long after it was plowed to the ground the characters who beautified the landscape told their stories to the mourning of a pre war country.  

I was never southern and I have never had much respect for the supposed culture that was being mourned in my ears through my civil rights era minds eye.

It was better then, they sang more and more loudly. Why can’t people see that.  It was better for some and it was worse for some.

I was a student of Steinbeck and I see now that his stoic realism was more in line with the America that I experienced and saw the fruit of and heard the stories about.  Raw and city.  The southern decorum was a myth hat I had never even heard the stories about.  I do believe the stories of a culture that had risen to such expressions of beauty and lucidity .  I believe that the teenagers had time to beautify themselves and learn piety and poise.  Other people were enslaved to allow them this privilege.  That is true and when God snatched it out of their paws they couldn’t believe that it was as though it had been a dream.  The depression came trampling upon this country with a vengeance.  The culture was razed to the dust.

Chapter one of the book makes me jealous and angry, but I press on.  I have no right to be jealous of a girl of privilege or a culture not my own.  None of us deserve the privileges to which we were born.  I do not appreciate the inheritance of culture that I was bequeathed.  It was a beauty of storytelling that is hauntingly beautiful and it belongs to all of us.  

I couldn’t believe that until Hamilton.  All of our hands were at the plow to create the memories that were woven into our American History.  We can all play the parts because we inherited the catastroph of the tower of Babyl that fell on that fateful day.  

“Frankly Scarlet…”. Who cares?  We all care. But we all don’t know from whence we have fallen.  The biblical knowledge that grew the decorum that was the precision war southeast a divine gift or a loan and what we do with it is everybody’s responsibility, much like our economy or the engineering of the wondrous subway system that makes me smile. The decorum and culture of southern life is a Biblical gift. It is tended by the garden of a couple of generations of people who were enlightened by the golden rule and other dear portions of scripture that are blinded in other areas of the country.  Like a beautiful flower garden with secrets that observation cannot teach you, that is the southern cultural beauty.  We must let the south teach the rest of the country the things that God has taught them.  Do not despise the day of small things and the details of humble submission and respect for providence.  I am very aware of the pride of the south as I am of my own northern pride, but I am choosing to focus on the image of God that I see in stark contrast to my own northern krassness.  Help Lord as I delve into this book to put my emotions aside and learn of You what was “Gone with the Wind”. Amen.

Feeding my Frenzy!

A Fool and His money is soon parted, my father would say to me.  Except, this morning it wasn't money it was 2 eggs in a carton of 18 with a dozen in the other carton that was burning a hole in my pocket.  I must do something.  I wanted the muffins that Enoch brought in that were nicely wrapped and in a big box, but I haven't got them anymore.  They were eaten and to pay me back for having eaten his muffins, he ate my wonderful bran and pumpkin seed cereal, which was a gift for teacher appreciation week.  I have 1/2 a bag of pumpkin seed cereal and two eggs and some clabba milk and what else.  about 2 cups of flour in a bag with a whole untouched bag of flour to boot.

I must tell you it was an AHAA moment!  I pulled out my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook.  This was not a task for Rhee Drummond, this was a day of improvisation with bits of this and bits of that in it.  Muffins?  What kind of muffins?  I haven't a whole cup of anything in particular.  If they don't eat them, I will wrap them in a box and eat one at a time, as though En had bought them from the store.  Anyway, they always tear into the whole batch before I can get a taste.

I found a recipe for Bran Cereal Muffins.  I was certain that I had about a third of a bag of Allbran left from my banana bread recipe, two weeks ago.  So I began my morning search for the ingredients.

1 cup of boiling water was the easiest to find, because I always boil water when I am washing the dishes
3 cups of whole bran cereal(not flakes)
I was sure that I had that, but En had eaten the bag down to one cup.  Uhoh!
I have already begun the process and there isn't any Allbran, and there isn't but 1 cup of that designer bran cereal that I got from teacher appreciation week.
I put the Wheat germ and the bran cereal together with the boiling water and hoped for the best!

I nearly cussed when I had to search high and low for the cinnamon in the cabinet.  I said, Emily would never have let the cabinets get this discombobulated.  Thank you for all you do!

Well, anyway, the whole house is smelling of a delicious sort of unusual combination!  I know you don't eat eggs or dairy, but you would be proud of me clearing the fridge of half of the items that we use, to make what is hopefully my greatest muffin creation.  I threw in the chocolate half of the smores that were in the freezer,  just in case the last of the sugar wasn't enough to sweeten the brew.


MMMM it smells good and it looks okay, we will see, what becomes of us, when we devour them...

Perry Como's And I Love You, "SO"

And I Love you “So”

{this happened years ago}

So,  became my name, because of the uncaring attitude that became mine in the light of great responsibility.

Ie.

You didnt get that done?

My answer, SO!

SOmeone was offended by you doing this or that?

My answer, SO!

I didn’t know Granddaddy was so aware of how hard it was to carry the weight of being the eldest child until he died.  I nearly died with him.  That would have been appropriate, I think.  Seeing that he was the one person who I hated, who I never told that I hated him.

He answered my every scream in that song.  I heard it in Harris Teeter and I could see him right in front of me all the way through the store.  I wanted to push him aside and tell him, you know that I hate you, but the tears were flowing so much that I just had to keep walking.

I know you hate me, but this one is for you!

Every word sunk deep into my pained and broken soul.  Why didn’t you take your responsibility?  Why would you throw that stuff on us?  I couldn’t even ask him that in the context.  

I couldn’t tell you then and you couldn’t tell me, then, but we do love each other, don’t we.  And we died together.  And you will be able to get up from this, won’t you!  Okay I love you!

And I love you SO, though people ask me how,(How could I love you when you run around hating on people like you do)  You fight like a barnyard dog and you cuss like a sailor.  Can’t you do anything about her?

How have I lived in her good graces and not received a lashing like everybody else?

How come she doesn’t sass you, like she does everybody else?

I tell them, I don’t know!

I am explaining to you how much I understand the wrath of your life.

“So” You were a barnyard fighter who grew into a judgmental little “so and so”.  I really don’t know which I like worse the sinner or the saint “So”.  I know that our relationship is now and then. I looked all over heaven and I didn’t find one prayer for me.  I knew you never preached to me, like you did to everyone else.  But, I didn’t think that you never even prayed for me.  Thank God, somebody did.  You never forgave me and you never talked about your anger to me, but you know what.  I love you “So”!

Thank God there is forgiveness with God! 

The Beauty of Words?

The Beauty of using a multitude of words

One of the beautiful things that I am learning from growing into a Charlotine is the beauty of using words to express things in verbosity.  It is a southern thing.

A New Yorker uses gestures and a word.  Perhaps a glance and a shove, might work if the gesture didn't but the multitude of words that these people use are delightful to watch.  Tones of voice and imploring sentences repeated, just for effect has been a conundrum to me.  WHY?  Why do they talk so much?  Why do they repeat the same sentence, inside the same sentence and I have to unpack the meaning of a repetition before the verb and a repetition after the verb, means several different things.

I have never been verbose or loquacious, but I admire from a great distance the power of imploring and implications that don’t really mean what you meant.  Letting people stew in their own misunderstanding of a thing that you took so very long to say.  It is an art that I do often wish were a part of my upbringing.

Many days, I miss the power of pounding the money on the counter at the post office and not having to say anything but 10 or 12 meaning stamps and getting just what you want.  I love that woman, for knowing what I meant, without getting offended.

The art of underlining your phrases and underscoring your inferences is beautiful, when you look at it from a distance.  I love thinking about it and I love hearing the sentences from the southern verbiage and processing them from my northern ear.  I think of it as a transplanting dilemma.