Thank God I'm a Country Girl

As we begin to pack and declutter (once again!) I want to take a minute to reflect on some of the peaceful scenery we have enjoyed since we have been here...

Another thing I will miss is people that stop to ask if you need help when you are parked at the side of the road taking pictures.

Still a Party Pooper

In case you've been here for awhile, Yes, this does sound familiar. I posted it in 2013, and with a few revisions am posting it again. Because it is still what I believe.

I am resigned that I am not normal, and I am fine with that. What I am not fine with is people acting shocked or scandalized when they learn I do not do life the same as everyone else.

I am not rude about it: when people say, "Merry Christmas!", I smile and say, "Thank you, same to you!" or “Enjoy your holiday!” When people ask if I am ready for Christmas, I smile and say, "Ready as I'll ever be!"

I do not even bother explaining that I do not celebrate Christmas (unless they ask “what plans do you have for Christmas?" In which case I will usually tell them "we haven’t decided if we will go skiing or go to the movies.") 

I do not give them a lecture about dubious traditions and the commercialization of quasi-religious practices, nor do I rant about the use of phrases such as "It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas" or "Let's keep Christ in Christmas" being a façade of man-made practices taking the place of what was originally intended to be the celebration of Emmanuel, God with us. (The fact that the date is wrong is not even worth arguing about. People honestly don’t want to hear about the early church’s co-opting of pagan practices... And besides, I already ranted about that a couple of years ago.)

Really, what is the point? They would not appreciate my bashing of their cherished traditions any more than I do when they do the same to me. Besides, as I have long said, you do not change people's minds by winning an argument. And I am not so sure I would win any here, because people are comfortable with what is familiar.

I found it to be enough of a challenge to reconcile my own thinking with the revelations about many of our beloved “Christmas traditions”, and I have no reason to expect that anyone else would feel otherwise. And anyway, it has been my observation over the years that tradition so often trumps the truth.

Pre-COVID and the resulting paranoia surrounding being in close proximity with other humans (family, or not), I did my best to compromise and keep peace in my family when it came to celebrating family times. I just asked that we keep the commercial separate from their so-called sacred. In that vein, it was our tradition to exchange gifts and have a family get-together on a day other than 12/25. We started that practice that many years ago (pre-in-laws and pre-grandkids), and we found it to be the least offensive to everyone involved. These days, I am just happy to find a day when we can meet in a parking lot and exchange gifts to be taken home and opened alone. (Talk about "party pooper.”)

But I can still have a little fun with a friend who persists in texting me every year first thing in the morning on 12/25 with "A Merry Christmas to you!" by texting back: "Enjoy your Saturnalia Celebration!" 

So, What's About Sabbath?

Even though my first question upon reading the Bible for myself (lo, these many 60+ years ago) was "why don't we observe the Sabbath on Saturday?", the truth was mis-represented to me for years. (Not on purpose, I'm sure. It was simply a matter of believing what we are told and repeating that misconception.)

It's easy enough to blame it on the Catholic church or the Emperor Constantine, and while there is truth in that, the reality is that we each have a brain and a conscience, and we should be coming to our own conclusions, based on scripture and not on any one else's tradition or interpretation.

Yes, it is historically true that Constantine mandated a "Day of Rest" based on his personal practice of sun-worship. To debate that would be less than honest. Call it what you may, but the very definition of the Hebrew word "sabbath" means "rest." Even good old WikiPedia has that information readily available:

On March 7, 321, Roman Emperor Constantine I issued a civil decree making Sunday a day of rest from labor, stating:
All judges and city people and the craftsmen shall rest upon the venerable day of the sun. Country people, however, may freely attend to the cultivation of the fields, because it frequently happens that no other days are better adapted for planting the grain in the furrows or the vines in trenches. So that the advantage given by heavenly providence may not for the occasion of a short time perish.

As the "church" became less Jewish and more gentile, followers began (for various political reasons) to distance themselves from the Jewish tradition of observance on the 7th day. By the second century, some church fathers were already admonishing their followers to abandon certain practices such as circumcision and Sabbath observance, lest they appear to be "too Jewish" and bring down the wrath of the government upon the church.

Some may claim that the Catholic church had no hand in this, but the historical documents speak for themselves:

The Sunday law was officially confirmed by the Roman Papacy. The Council of Laodicea in A.D. 364 decreed, “Christians shall not Judaize and be idle on Saturday but shall work on that day; but the Lord’s day they shall especially honour, and, as being Christians, shall, if possible, do no work on that day..."

The Catholic church itself has confirmed this in their own publications: “The Catholic Church, … by virtue of her divine mission, changed the day from Saturday to Sunday” (The Catholic Mirror, official publication of James Cardinal Gibbons, Sept. 23, 1893).

And, that begs the question: Why - at the Protestant Reformation - did the Protestant faction not return to sabbath worship on the 7th day? The Catholic church goes so far as to reference this fact, claiming that by so doing:

“Protestants do not realize that by observing Sunday, they accept the authority of the spokesperson of the Church, the Pope” (Our Sunday Visitor, February 5, 1950).

It does make one wonder, does it not?

I have even heard it said, by way of excusing oneself from Sabbath observance, "Well, Jesus is my sabbath rest so I can rest any day I want." Sounds good, doesn't it? Yes, scripture does say that Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath. You will hear no argument from me on that point. (To deny that would be to deny the truth of scripture in Matthew 12:3-8.) But to say Jesus Himself has somehow replaced the gift of Sabbath observance is to completely miss the point of Sabbath! Not the very least is the fact that scripture cannot contradict itself, and it has already said in Deuteronomy 13 - You shall walk after the Lord your God and fear Him, and keep His commandments and obey His voice; you shall serve Him and hold fast to Him.

Read the whole chapter and you will see that the premise is that anyone saying anything different is a false prophet. If Jesus is the Son of God and Messiah, he can't also be a false prophet. So that argument does not fly with me, for obvious reasons.

The BibleProject gets it mostly right when they say:

As followers of Jesus, we aren't required to follow the laws given to Israel by God exactly. These were given at a specific time to a specific people group for a specific purpose. Yet the wisdom of those laws is enduring, and the law of the Sabbath is pure gold. It is not a commandment we are bound to; it’s a promise we’re invited to.

I would disagree with "we aren't called to follow the "laws" given to Israel," because if we claim to be a follower of God, then we are also called to be "set-apart", and "a light to nations", just as Israel was back at Sinai. After all, it is 1 John 5:3 that we show our love for Him by our obedience, and goes on to state that His laws are not a burden... 

And that's in the New Testament, folks.

Random Thoughts on leaving "The Church"

Several years ago, a family we had known for quite some time informed many of us - via email - that they were leaving our local congregation to attend a different local congregation. (Not exactly a surprise, it happens regularly. We have joked about installing a revolving door in the sanctuary.) Actually, their email was sent after the fact; in reality, they had already left. The reasons they listed were many.

(Three years later, I actually just left... without saying anything to anyone (other than my husband, of course), reasoning that I did not want to sow seeds of dissatisfaction or dissent. And now, as I have pondered this post, the irony is not lost on me.)

Their email read, in part:

I have examined this over and over in my mind and heart and came to realize that we have gone to [a certain local] church for 28 years without leaving....but the church has "left" us.  [My daughter] said it pretty clearly...when she said something about looking around and not feeling like it's her church anymore...that is how I was feeling, too.  I was still in the same "place" but the place wasn't the same.  I asked myself: if I was moving into town for the first time, is this where I would choose to fellowship.  The answer, sadly, was no.

Upon reading their whole letter, my initial response was frustration and betrayal (and, let's face it: Entitlement.) After all, we had fellowshipped with this family for 20+ years. We had been in several small home studies with them. We had worked side-by-side on the same ministry teams. We had attended the same Christian education classes. Oddly enough, after complaining that "so many of [their] friends" had left, they chose to inform those of us who remained by a blanket email. Were my feelings dented? You bet they were. So, in order to process my feelings in a way that was meaningful for me, I wrote out my response, filed it, and kept my thoughts to myself. 

Their letter generated several days' conversation at our house, and probably for reasons most people do not consider.

• "The church has left us."
• It's not "their" church anymore.
• "I'm in the same place."
• "The place wasn't the same."

First, I'd like to address my initial reaction: The place is NOT the same. And I say: THANK GOODNESS for that, who wants to be in a stagnant rut where no one grows or changes? And, yes – a lot of other people have “moved on.” Let's just speak out the truth here. Many people leave a certain local congregation because they don't really grasp what "church" is supposed to be about. Our culture has fallen into a cultural trap of thinking that "church" is the sanctified religious equivalent of a country club, complete with instant friends, instant social connections, instant entertainment... So when their friends leave, they feel justified in saying "I don't know anyone", or "it doesn't feel like home"... I have heard dozens more excuses, but I think the bottom line is that we bring our expectations for self-fulfillment with us when we come to church.

PEOPLE!!! That is not what church is for!!! 

(Ack! I’m sorry, but this really annoys me.)

Be that as it may, the question begged to be asked: What did [the writer of this email] personally bring to the table to make church a welcoming place? Right or wrong, this has been my observation: Many people come and sit in the First Touch Café by themselves and don't bother to invite others to their table. They come in late for worship and sit all together, just their little clan, and don't interact with anyone else, not even during the "meet and greet" stretch before the sermon. When someone comes over to say "hello" to them, a typical response is frequently "Hmmph!"

The whole concept that "I'm in the same place" struck me as tragic. If they have been in that church for 20 years and have not grown, I have to wonder what they are doing with their time. One would hope that 20 years of instruction and mentoring would result in some changes and greater maturity.

But, I have left my "pettest" peeve for last: 'This is not THEIR church anymore.' OK. I think I know what they were trying to say, but do they even realize what they really said? No, this never was THEIR church. Hopefully, it will continue to be God's church. And maybe whoever compared this Exodus to the thinning of Gideon's army was right. But I for one continue to be a little dismayed when I see who is being "thinned out". But I am NOT dismayed when I consider that God knows The Plan He has for [our local congregation], and they are plans for good and not for evil. So I am going to continue to trust Him.

Micah 6:8: what does the LORD require of [me]? … to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with [my] God.

As I reflect on it, I think that’s all I should have been concerned about.

There is a daily Jewish prayer which some scholars believe corresponds to the part of the “Lord’s Prayer” ‘Thy will be done as it is in heaven’ that reads:

Return us, Adonai, to your teachings, draw us near our King to serve You. Restore us to Your presence in complete repentance. Blessed are you Adonai, who desires repentance.

Seriously, can I just pray that and live it? In the end, I can only be responsible for myself and making sure I have the right response to others.

I wrapped up my thoughts this way, and again I can't help but reflect on the irony of my wounded words, given my current personal lack of corporate church attendance:

I do not personally agree with how church is "done" in our culture, but that is just a product of where I am at with the Lord and what I have walked through in the past 40+ years; it has nothing to do with [our pastors] and the words that are coming from the front. I truly believe they are seeking the Lord for wisdom and are listening to Him and doing their best to edify the body. 

Bottom line: Is the truth being taught? Is Christ being lifted up? After that, the rest is more about what I bring to the table.

I guess I'm really not done thinking about this.

Reflections on 70 years

And just like that, I find myself waking up this morning at the ripe old age of 70. Yes, that is correct. Today I begin my 71st revolution of the sun. As soon as the water finishes boiling, I will pour my customary cup of Scottish breakfast tea to go along with my slice of French apple pie for breakfast. (Have no fear, I will have a bowl of porridge for dessert to make my mother and my digestive system happy.)

I'm not quite sure that I have entirely resigned myself to the title "Elderly." Our church has co-opted the term "Mamas and Papas" and I find that I prefer that label. 

As I lay in bed waking up this morning, I took the opportunity to spend a few minutes in review, trying to figure out how I actually made it this far. 70 is a long haul from 15, the age at which I made the ill-mannered proclamation that old people were gross, and stated my intention to kill myself at the age of 45. Came 45, which is obviously not nearly old enough, when I had a change of plan.

This morning however, I was somewhat inclined to doubt the wisdom of that decision. In my current decrepit state, I find myself wondering who exactly I have to thank for the myriad evidences that this earthly vessel has seen better years. I am now in possession of several family treasures: the cherry angiomas from the Rogers clan, the accumulated allergies from the Coots clan, seborrheic keratosis from gosh only knows how many, and that's just on the outside.

The words that come out of my mouth sound more these days like my mother or grandmother, and I still have to work every day on keeping the snark at a manageable level.

I was somewhat in hopes that I had finally reached the stage where I no longer give a F.R.A.* about quite so many things, such as having apple pie for breakfast and worrying what others might think of me when they find out. And truthfully, there are quite a number of things about which I no longer can find the time or energy to spend worrying. Politics, for one, and any number of other topics which seem to get others so riled up these days. On the other hand, there are many things that I do care about, probably more now than when I was 15 or even 45.

• I care more now about taking the time to sip my breakfast tea, watching the turkeys parade across the lawn as the sun rises over the river than I do about being possibly 5 minutes late to the office.
• I care more about spending half-an-hour with grandchildren than I do about the hour it takes to go see them. 
• I care more about how my faith walk lines up with the instruction manual than with denominational dogma or how others think I should live. 
• I care more now about finding out how people do life, love and the pursuit of happiness or what makes them act the way they do than I do about criticizing them for being different from me. 
• I care more about keeping my thoughts to myself than about spewing my sarcastic witticisms on hurting or wounded people.

I am not a better person than anyone else, except possibly my 15-year-old self. Or at least that's what I hope. That is probably why I struggle frequently in my interactions with those who have known me since I was 15 or 45, and their expectations that I am still that same person.

If 70 years on this planet has taught me anything at all, I hope it has taught me how to be more respectful and accommodating towards the others who share my space.

*Flying Rat's Arse, in case you are still scratching your head

Post-COVID

We are both back on track, post-COVID, still fielding "recommendations" from well-meaning family and friends to get the jab-jab. No thanks. I don't mind putting a mask on if it makes people feel "safe" around me, but I draw the line at being a volunteer guinea pig for Big Pharma. If one more person says "But, you can't argue with science!" as their rationalization for taking what (in my mind) amounts to experimental drugs, I may have to be restrained...

Not choosing to take the vaccine does not mean someone doesn't love or care for family and friends - or society in general. It does not make one a bioterrorist. Enough with the generalizing - accusing Christians of being selfish and unloving because they put their trust in God. There are two (or more) sides to every story - yet the media and government tend to share only one version. Getting the shot may have the appearance of slowing down the spread... but who knows if the long-term effects will outweigh the danger of contracting a virus with a 1.6% mortality rate? More than one scientist or doctor has decried calling a "vaccine" that which is not a true vaccine. No one can in all honesty predict the long-term effects.

As to the effectiveness and durability of the shots, it has been pointed out that Israel had a near universal vaccination initiative back from December 2020 through February 2021 and have now found the Pfiezer vaccine's effectiveness drops from 94% to less than 20% after 6 months. Just about everyone knows someone who has come down with COVID after being exposed by a vaccinated person. It's not exactly an uncommon occurrence.

No, I am not a conspiracy theorist. I don't believe getting the shot inserts a microchip for government surveillance... nor do I believe it makes one "magnetic." I don't believe it re-writes our DNA or causes infertility. I do believe that there are real, legitimate concerns about the effectiveness and safety of the shots, and those increase substantially for people with autoimmune and other underlying conditions.

Do you ever feel like you're just wasting your breath? Some of the vile rhetoric that pops up on social media is discouraging, sometimes it's downright appalling. It's okay if people don't agree with me, but it's hard to have respect when I am being called a "dumb-ass"... well, maybe I am, but maybe I'm not. Time will tell.

Kiss Your Mother

I miss my mom. She left us during the winter holiday season of 2014, which did make for a nice family reunion right after Christmas as we gathered from all over for her memorial, but nevertheless... she is still gone.

Since that time, I have on rare occasions had the opportunity to "visit" with her by way of dreams. Most of the time, I have the awareness that she ought to be dead, and therefore not with me. But, fearing that if I mention it she might be gone, I keep it to myself while enjoying our time together, chatting about everything important, unimportant, and in-between.

Not so last night. In that dream, I was busy at my desk trying to process paperwork - or whatever nonsense it is that I waste my time at when at work - with Mom hovering at my side, waiting for an opportune moment to spend a few minutes with me. In the midst of my frustration, I said to her [still in my dream], "Did you need me? I've got to get these papers out." So, ever the considerate person that she always was, she left.

When I woke up, I cried. 

I cried again as I thought about all of the times when I could have - but did not - call her, write her, spend time with her when I was in town visiting all my "friends" from high school [most of whom I can't even remember their names, now.] 

Unlike some friends of mine, my own mother and I were never estranged. We were rarely ever at odds, owing in great part to Mom's gift of mercy and kindness and hospitality... etc. (Too many to list!) She just cared about people. It showed in the things she did, the things she said, the way she treated others. (Don't get me wrong, in private she occasionally had a few comments or opinions, but I cannot recall her ever speaking unkindly to anyone.)

I suppose it hit me harder than it might have otherwise, due to the comparison with my own daughters. I am now on the other end of that Mother-Daughter relationship and can now understand all the feels that go with wanting to spend time with daughters whose lives are spinning in so many directions with their children, jobs, relationships, hobbies, that - without meaning to - leaves Mom low on the To-Do list. Undoubtedly because, no matter how neglected a mom ever feels, she is going to love you anyway, forgive you always, be thankful for the time shared.

That is why I say, KISS YOUR MOM. She needs it. And inevitably, one day, it will be too late.

On vacation in Scotland