42099:: In which I mull over telling the truth

Not so many years ago, I would have been spending this day like many others: wedging myself into an already over-crowded church, wearing a new outfit and shoes that turned out to be a bad choice, wondering who all these "new" people are in church today, to be followed by a rousing hunt in the garden with dyed eggs and too much candy, followed by photos of children in their frilly dresses and over-flowing baskets of booty.

Instead, I am sitting in my robe with my cup of tea at the kitchen table listening to the dishwasher work its magic on yesterday's dishes, watching the cat freak out and run inside at the bursts of wind and blowing leaves, and laying out my paperwork to get the taxes finished.

So what happened to me to turn me into an anti-Easter, church-ditching Scrooge? I guess you could say, "Truth."

Looking back, I think my search began long before I became aware of it. I recall a discussion with my then brand new sister-in-law about my discomfort with lying to children about things like Santa Claus and the Easter bunny. My reasoning was, how can we expect children to believe us when we tell them that God and Jesus are not made up stories when we mix the truth of "important holidays" such as Christmas and Easter with Santa and bunnies and eggs. Her reply was, "Just wait until you have kids of your own." Meaning, I suppose, that the pressure to conform to what other families and churches and children are doing during these seasons is enough to make you lay down your questions and convictions. And she was right.

I did not have the strength to be "that mother" who spoiled the fun for her children by denying them the innocent fun of wearing K-Mart costumes while dragging pillowcases around the neighborhood to stock up on candy that I did not want them to eat, followed by sitting on a stranger's lap in the mall to get a piece of candy after drilling them about never taking candy from strangers, followed by pasting heart-shaped doilies and stickers onto cards made of red construction paper to give to others in exchange for cupcakes with so much red dye that it came out looking like they'd eaten beets the day before, followed by wearing green clothing to placate imaginary arm-pinching leprechauns and eating cupcakes with so much green dye that it came out looking like they'd eaten... well, green dye the day before. And on the heels of all this mindless, sugar-filled frivolity was the capper: dying eggs no one will eat, filling plastic eggs with candy no one will eat, and arguing about "who ate the ears off my chocolate bunny" until Mom or Dad takes them all away and puts them in the freezer - while all the while pretending that these activities are harmless because we have turned them into opportunities to teach our children about "Jesus."

Until I wondered why my children walked away from church and its hypocrisy.

How do we get ourselves into that place where we sacrifice truth and our convictions for fitting into whatever is currently perceived as "the norm"? I have even heard it preached from pulpits that "even though this holiday started out to mean that, it now means this." I suppose the idea is that we can redeem practices that originated as worship of false deities by slapping a Jesus sticker on them. That's what it meant to them, but this is what it means to us now, so now it's O.K.

Then I read this: Deuteronomy 12:29-32 - When the LORD your God cuts off before you the nations whom you go in to dispossess, and you dispossess them and dwell in their land, take care that you be not ensnared to follow them, after they have been destroyed before you, and that you do not inquire about their gods, saying, ‘How did these nations serve their gods?—that I also may do the same.’ You shall not worship the LORD your God in that way, for every abominable thing that the LORD hates they have done for their gods, for they even burn their sons and their daughters in the fire to their gods. “Everything that I command you, you shall be careful to do. You shall not add to it or take from it.

It saddens me that I did not have the confidence to live out the truth I believe in and lost many opportunities to impart that truth to my children. It does not escape my notice that we might all be in a different place spiritually had I not knuckled-under to the pressure of being "normal" and accepted by people whose opinions do not really matter in the scope of eternity.

339 :: When Life Gives You Lemons, Pull Out the Cookbook

A funny thing happened last week. I made Gigi's Lemon Love Notes for Shabbat dessert... in which our guests called in sick, and just as well, since I burned the lemon bars whilst leaning up against the stove as I pulled lamb off the bone for the soup... but that is another tale.

Not to be deprived of his mom's famous lemon bars, DH ate them anyway. "A little charcoal is good for what ails you", I suppose.

So, to redeem myself, I decided to make an un-burned batch. And who better to help me than Anthony Bourdain?
Alas, he couldn't make it. Nevermind. I have the next best thing (if not better!)

Our Own Rosie-Toes was not only happy to pick the lemons herself from Grandma's tree, she virtually made the lemon bars herself (with a little help from Nana - reading GiGi's writing.)

I think GiGi would have been very proud.

278 :: A Walk in the Park - Redux

A little time with the Little.

A few lessons in rock-skipping. Bread for the ducks.

And much time spent remarking (read: lamenting) about Our Drought, and the sad state of Horseshoe "Puddle". 

It's a sorry state of affairs if we don't get some rain soon.

274 :: And, for this year's birthday bash...

I was left in the dust, all for the sake of an antelope hunt.

Never mind... I look at it this way: all winter long, every time I pull antelope out of the freezer for dinner, it's Happy Birthday to Me, all over again!

271 :: Chico's Own Con

Maybe I am a closet nerd? Or maybe I just have nerdy grands... I don't know the answer to that. But I do know that I think it rocks that we finally had our own homegrown version of Comic-Con hit town today.

Local talent - and I DO mean "TALENT" - a packed out Vet's Center (seriously? you did not think thousands of people were going to show up?) - Chico's own Tedra as Wonder Woman - Jedi - Hobbits - various and sundry super villians and heros galore.

Well, honestly - who could ask for a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon?

And to put icing on the cake, this Little Miss was turned into a veritable flower garden for the paltry sum of $5. (And standing in line for 45 minutes... but, whatever.)

Good times! (I'm pooped!)

131 :: Mother's Day - without Mom

I've said it many times, and I really can't say enough what a great family we have. On both sides.

This year, however, it just seemed off to have Mother's Day without Mom in tow. 

Sure, there were plenty of Moms on hand. 

I, for one. 

And as much as we laughed (and ate... and talked... and laughed and ate some more - the usual routine,) I couldn't help feeling that Mom would have been having such fun if she had been there.

She was always about the family gatherings. Maybe because her own first family was always so far away. She was like the mama hen trying to make sure her chicks were always sticking together.

I know what it is. It feels like we've lost our glue.

 Miss you, Edith Mae.

116 :: Highland Games

One of the highlights of my year - every year - is our annual trek to Woodland for the Highland Games and Gatherings. I think we have only missed one in the last 13 years.

There is something for everyone, and trust me - you do not have to be Scottish to have a good time.

Music? They've got it...
Dancing? Everywhere you turn...
Athletic competition? Where do I start?

Then there's the food. The meat pies, the "haggis" (Ok, well really it's fudge)... OK, well really it's Fair Food with a little fish and chips thrown in for flavor!

We've pretty much got it down to a science by now; the ice chest, the folding chairs, the shade umbrellas. We can even make it from the car in one trip!
Parked between the athletic field and the historical reenactor's village...

...and just a stone's throw from the pipes...

The young-uns have been coming since the oldest was 3. It just gets cooler every year.