As you can tell by the title, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get going.

If you like doing crafty things, find yourself a crafting friend like mine. We’ll call her “Barb.” (Mostly because that’s her name, but it looks more mysterious to have it in quotes.) I found a photo of some cards that I liked and sent it to Barb with the comment that I thought we could figure out how to make them. The next thing I knew, we had ourselves a card-making date with her supplying nearly all the materials from her own crafting shelves (and she even made a trip to JoAnn’s to get additional supplies – above and beyond the call of duty!).

The cards required the use of the hot glue gun. If your fingers began hurting reflexively the moment you read that, it’s a sign that you’ve used one of these handy little torture devices. Hot glue is really a great adhesive except for the fact that it’s impossible to use without burning your fingers and getting strings of the glue all over everything. We were a little worried that at one point we might accidentally glue ourselves together, but managed to avoid that.

Crafting with a friend makes the whole experience more fun. Thanks, Barb!

We didn’t end up using my hot glue gun, but when I got it out to bring it just in case, I was flooded with memories of the Amazing Eggstractor, the box of which now houses my glue gun.

My parents-in-law bought this for me over 20 years ago, having succumbed to the allure of it on the shopping network. I was thrilled, having many times been frustrated by trying to peel hard-boiled eggs and ending up with something that looked like it was trying to be a hard-boiled egg but which had lost a lot of its parts. As it says on the box, “It peels eggs for you!” Count me in.

I boiled up the first batch according to the instructions and eagerly put the first egg on the little stand provided. I pressed down on the accordion-style thingy and had to exert a fair amount of pressure. Finally the egg shot through…or at least part of it did. The yolk had parted company with the white. Probably just a fluke, I figured. I put the next one in and tried again. The egg came out at about Mach 2 and went flying around the kitchen, ricocheting off various cupboards before coming to a resting place that it took me awhile to find.

I never could get that thing to perform as promised. I gave it away ( ha ha!) but kept the box, which turned out to be the most useful part of it.

I’ll probably eggstract this post in the morning. Thar she blows!

We had some people over recently that we were just getting to know and chatted quite a bit about their jobs. Then the wife turned to me and said, “What do you do?” I probably should have anticipated that question, but instead I was taken aback and the only thing I could think of to say was “Nothing.” I hastened to explain that I’d retired last year and was keeping busy doing “this and that,” which sounded lame, even to me. I’ll have to come up with a better answer for the next time that comes up.

Here’s a little bit of the “nothing” I’ve been doing lately – making some flash cards for the beloved granddaughter.

The words (and drawings) are definitely getting more complex, but I think she’s up to it. Our daughter-in-law sent me a video of the little darling saying the words from the first four (I’m sending them out in groups of four). I received it while doing my grocery shopping and watched it right in the middle of Aisle 5, completely enchanted. I was so enthused, I had to fight back the impulse to gather a group of random grocery shoppers to watch it with me. How would you respond to a request like that? 😆

I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow morning but delete this blog post.

It’s official. The mallard lady couldn’t make up her mind and now has two swains following her around.

Those iridescent green heads must really hold a lot of allure. And just when the mallard trio thought they had the pond all to themselves, a couple of muscle-bound geese showed up and calmly took over the waters.

The drama at the pond just never ends!

Here in southern Minnesota, we’ve all seen robins by now and it’s popularly thought that they are the ultimate sign that spring has arrived. But in our back yard, the sure sign that warmer weathers are on the way is the reinstatement of the compost heap.

Of course, that’s not as lovely as a robin, but the photo I took of a perfectly nice robin turned out to be out of focus in a way that might give you a headache. Will a cardinal do instead?

The Monday Musings are over.

I’ll probably throw this one in the compost heap in the morning to keep the egg shells company.

The honeymoon send-off has changed and evolved over the years. When we were married, people threw bird seed at us. This was supposed to be a more ecologically friendly way than throwing rice, which had fallen out of favor because apparently the rice was upsetting to bird tummies. We never did get all the bird seed out of our car.

We’ve had three weddings in our family so far and the send-offs have been sparklers. Sparklers are so fun and festive, but when we had them at our daughter’s wedding, the specter of little burnt hands and legal culpability loomed over us a bit. In doing the kind of in-depth research you can expect from this blog, I went back to look at the photos and realized that one of our sons and his wife just took off into the night without any fanfare at all.

I don’t really know what the fad was back in 1917 when my grandparents got married, but I found a send-off poster made for them by some of my grandmother’s friends and sisters that was so funny! They cut a bunch of phrases out of newspapers and magazines and cobbled them together to create some well-wishes for them as they embarked on the honeymoon and on married life in general. The last section is particularly amusing with one random phrase after another serving as “advice” for the newlyweds. I took a photo of it, but also typed it up so you, my dear readers, could enjoy it as much as I did. I put all the cut-out phrases in brackets.

June 1917
[Harry] + [Lois] left
[The Most Musical Town in America] for the
[ferny dells of the matchless St. Croix River,
and the vigor-renewing forests and streams of Northern Minnesota]
[photo of forest inserted].

[The Silent Holstein Buick],
[a Car You Can Trust for Life] succeeded in [Getting Away].
It was [Quick and Convenient – and Downright Fun]
But oh, [The Fate of a Frock], her [photo of comb]
+ Harry’s [photo of glasses.]

[They] reached [Watertown] but [“He laughs best who laughs last,”
and they’re now wearing the smile that won’t come off].
[They] [got a lower berth in the middle of the train]+ reached [St. Paul]. [Away they go again]
[Just You and I] says Harry, [are quickly reached by boat, rail or automobile from Saint Paul.]

[Welcome to Our City!] [Who is this Girl?]
[Why Don’t You Fill Next Summer with Genuine Pleasure?]
[Keep Young – for Harry’s Sake]. [Never molest a skunk].
[Do an errand for your wife.] [Don’t fret – take a bath].
[“Have You a Little Fairy in Your Home?”] (signed Florence)
[Never let your husband persuade you to gaze fixedly at the neck of a bottle or the top of a sugar-bowl].
[Invent Something. It May Bring Wealth.]
[Protect Your Car.]
[Learn at home by mail to mount birds, animals, tan skins.]
Buy [photo of fancy car driving through water with side shields]
for rainy weather.
[Get back to nature, get out in the open]
[Photo of a young couple canoeing]
[We are particularly anxious for you to make an early call.]
[This is a personal invitation to you. Will you accept it?]
[Good night]
Florence, Bess, Myrtie, Ada, Annie & Daisy

I can just picture Florence and company giggling while they put that masterpiece together. Can you imagine their shock to realize that over 100 years later, it’s still intact and being featured in a blog? (“What’s a blog?” would probably be their first question.)

I don’t have one of their wedding photos, sadly, but here’s one taken during their engagement.

Ain’t they cute?

I’d love to hear about your honeymoon send-off, if you had one.

I’ll probably have some sort of send-off for this blog post in the morning, whatever is acceptable in the blogosphere.

I still bring my camera with me often when we go on walks. I want to be ready to take a photo if I see something that interests me. Not long ago, we were walking past a little swampy area filled with cattails and I noticed an overturned white plastic chair with a large green ball under it. Click.

We continued down the path and I was enthused by a puddle of running water near the edge – the ice is melting and spring is headed our way! Click.

We were approaching a fairly large puddle in which were some delightful reflections and I was getting ready to take a photo when I noticed a woman coming toward us, so I held off, always reluctant to take photos when people are nearby for fear they might think I’m surreptitiously taking their photo.

“Hi,” she started out in a friendly manner, “My neighbor is wondering why you were taking photographs of their house.” Oh dear… We got it sorted out as I was able to reassure her that it may have appeared that way, but I mostly take photos of plants and puddles and such. I hadn’t even noticed that there was a house somewhere in the background of the chair.

I’ve often thought that if I saw someone standing near my home with a camera more or less pointed in the general direction of my house, I would find it creepy. Now I know that I’m not alone.

We had a pleasant conversation with that lady. Her neighbors were elderly and so she volunteered to walk over and ask me about it, which I thought was very nice. We should all have such wonderful neighbors.

I’ll probably delete this this in the morning and – oops, gotta go!

I heard an interesting quote on a podcast the other day:

“The test of a man’s religion is what he does with his free time.”

I happen to have a lot of “free time” these days, so the test is real. At first glance, it would appear that the message is that we ought to be pretty busy using all our free time for “kingdom work,” so to speak. But the context in which the quote was given was actually in terms of setting aside times of silence: to think, to reflect, to pray, to listen.

When was the last time you remember sitting in silence?

This doesn’t mean that all our free time should be spent in silent moments, but that those quiet times may provide the inspiration for the way we spend the rest of our time.

“See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.”
Ephesians 5:15-16

If you consider time to be a valuable and limited commodity, the way we spend it seems pretty important. I don’t think this rules out leisure activities, but it might rule out living a life of leisure at all times.

Something to think about, isn’t it?

I’m going to be very intentional about deleting this in the morning.

I overheard such an amusing conversation between mallard drakes the other day. They were so cleverly hidden in the brush down by the pond I almost didn’t see them at first.

I tiptoed as close as I could without alarming them and this is what I heard:

Mallard 1: I saw her first.
Mallard 2: You most certainly did not. The only reason you even looked over there was because you saw ME looking.
Mallard 1: Oh, please. You had your fat yellow bill stuck in the water trying to find food when I saw her.
Mallard 2: Really! What a nice little story you tell. I’ll be sure to pass that on to her when I meet her.
Mallard 1: You’ll have to get past me to meet her and I assure you, that will not be an easy task.
Mallard 2: Why haven’t you gone over there yet, then?
Mallard 1: What a fool you are! If you want results, this requires a nuanced approach. You’re much too dull to understand it.
Mallard 2: You’re a coward, that’s what you are.
Mallard 1: I don’t see you moving in that direction, Mr. Bravado.
Mallard 2: I thought maybe I’d let you go over first so I could watch you and your “nuanced approach” get rejected before I show her what a real duck acts like.

It appeared this might go on for some time, so I tiptoed over to the object of their affections.

She appeared to be ignoring them, but then I heard her sigh heavily as she fluffed her pretty wing feathers and walked away.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but not right away – it requires a nuanced approach.

Do you think you’d ever find a raccoon and a gecko living in the same area? I asked Mr. Google that question and it turns out that Mr. Google doesn’t know everything. Or maybe that question has never come up. But since I’ve been painting them in my watercolor class and had been thinking poetic thoughts about them, I wanted to know.

I personally think the raccoon on the top looks more like a dead pig with strange markings.

The raccoon took a nap on a stump.
What a pleasingly plump little lump!
It dreamed of strange calls and echos,
Of little green lizards called geckos.

He awakened and suddenly froze,
For a gecko was perched on his nose.
“Get up, my fine masked fellow –
The moon is full and yellow!

We’ve got an assignment to do
Before this night is through –
With your mask and my light feet
We can get ourselves something to eat!”

The raccoon opened his mouth wide
And tucked the gecko inside.
He swallowed it whole and burped,
Saying “Thank you, now what’s for dessert?”

Mr. Google should have warned me about what happens when raccoons and geckos meet in the night under a full moon. Now look what happened!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning…or maybe during the night under a full moon.

I thought I had a negative view of Christianity before starting college, but in looking back through my journals I realize that it was much worse than that. I treated it as a harmless and optional belief system that hardly had any sort of thing to do with me. In seeking to share the gospel, I would much rather meet someone who agitates against Christianity than someone who is indifferent, as I was. The one who agitates against it has some idea of what it’s all about and they don’t like it one bit. There has perhaps been some work going on in the soul already. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” as Shakespeare wrote. The indifferent person is just drifting along not caring much one way or another and you can talk yourself blue in the face to them and they’ll just mildly agree or defer comment all the way to hell.

Well, that was a spicy way to start this third part of my story! So, yes, I was fairly neutral and indifferent to the gospel at that time in my life. My mother was directing a church choir at a United Methodist Church and twisted my arm into joining, so there I was, attending church again. The pastor’s name was Reverend Ramstad. Remember that name – he’s a small but important character later in my long journey to Christ.

Reverend Ramstad had a cherubic round face and was a cheerful, sweetly shy man. I mentioned him before when I wrote about my joining the choir late in my high school years. Sometimes I commented in my journals about his sermons and usually in a positive way. He was very real and accessible. I still didn’t have any concept of what the gospel was or how it applied to me, but I was listening, which is more than I used to do in church.

One Sunday, Reverend Ramstad decided to try out an experiment in sermon application. The sermon must have been about loving one another, for at the end of the service he exhorted us all to find someone in the church and tell them “I love you.” What was he thinking?!? My older sister Leslie was in the choir as well. We had a quick whispered consultation and decided that this whole business was to be avoided at all costs. We spotted a small alcove by the side of the church and devised a plan to make our way swiftly over there and wait inside the alcove until it was safe. It was a perfect plan…until we got into the alcove and found Reverend Ramstad in there too. He smiled at us and said, “I love you.” Leslie and I were stunned into silence at this turn of events. I was the one who eventually broke, replying awkwardly, “Me, too.” At that, the good Reverend ambled out of the alcove and then we laughed until we were gasping for breath.

Ahhh…good times. But my soul was untouched as far as coming to terms with sin and its consequences. As I started at the University of Minnesota, I had no particular convictions at all. By this time I had started dating an interesting young man who shared the Desiderata with me and spoke about obtaining what he called the “Ideal State of Being.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but assumed he knew something that I didn’t. Fortunately, I didn’t get trapped into going down that particular rabbit hole – sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

The Desiderata, by the way, is a very nice essay which presents what you might call a “Christ-less Gospel.” It’s a beautifully worded paragraph about how to live, and includes the phrase, “Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.” I loved the Desiderata, really loved it. And although I didn’t know it at the time, that phrase planted deep seeds in my psyche about the necessity of each person being allowed to define God in a way that made sense to or pleased oneself. “That way lies madness.”

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless thou dost protest too much.

My Story Part 1
My Story Part 2
My Story Part 4
My Story Part 5
My Story Part 6
My Story Part 7
My Story Part 8
My Story Part 9
My Story Part 10

Today would have been my dad’s 95th birthday. In honor of his birthday, I’ll share one of his favorite jokes: The pastor of a church one Sunday saw three other pastors from his denomination come into the back of the church after the service had started, visiting for some local convention. The church was already full and there were no places for them to sit, so he signaled one of the deacons to come over and whispered to him, “Three chairs for the ministers.” The deacon asked him to repeat it to make sure he’d understood correctly. “Okay,” he whispered back. Then the deacon stood up in front of the congregation and called out, “Three cheers for the ministers! Hip, hip – Hooray! Hip , hip – hooray! Hip, hip – hooray!” I’d love to hear him tell one of his corny jokes again. My mom has soldiered on without him now for 9 years. They little knew everything in store for them when they said their “I do’s,” but they went through it all together, loyal and faithful to the end.

The geese have been coming through our town. We saw crowds of them honking their way overhead a couple days ago. My husband checked a reference for our area and sure enough, the geese are known to come back north around mid-March. If you listen closely to their honking, you’ll realize that they’re actually blowing on party favors as a festive way to signal the return of spring. Here’s a quieter sign of spring right in our back yard:

We suspect this lovely little green shoot might be an onion sprout, a volunteer from last year’s failed crop. Hope springs anew.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless there’s a “here comes spring” party going on overhead.

“The great authors are able to show us nature in microcosm a few pages at a time. You can live life richly and prepare yourself to live it actually by reading great books.”

This was the opening statement in an online course my husband and I are taking through Hillsdale online called “Great Literature 101.” It’s a grand statement, encapsulating the value of well-written fiction, stories that are replete with significant themes and types, yet never coming across as a stuffy academic treatises – “nature in microcosm a few pages at a time.” Great literature, in order to be great, must engage the reader in a character or characters that speak to you, that tell you something about yourself and all within the confines of a cracking good story with language that elevates and edifies – that’s the Lynniebee requirement anyway.

My reading habits are fairly eclectic. I’m not often found with my nose in a book that could be classified as “great literature.” I enjoy mystery novels, some romance novels, biographies and autobiographies, children’s classics, historical fiction, theological books, devotional books, poetry, science fiction and fantasy, real-life dramas and probably more that I’m not remembering right now. But in the last 15 years or so, I have been challenging myself to read more of what might be considered “literature,” or even “great literature.” I read with pencil in hand, prepared to underline those parts that speak to my soul, that inspire me, that comfort me, that bring joy or even weeping.

But how does reading great books prepare you to live life? Think about a book you’ve read in which the main character makes a decision to sacrifice his wants and desires, maybe even his life, in order to save others or in order to achieve the highest good for others under his care. (And please, just go ahead and assume that when I say “his” I am referring to men and women. It’s just clumsy and awkward to have to say “his/her” all the time.) Will you ever be asked to deny yourself something in order to benefit someone else? Unless you live in isolation, you most assuredly will be. As you read about a character like that, you are rehearsing for real life. The character’s example, either positive or negative, will prompt you to ask yourself what you would do in a similar situation.

Or perhaps you will read about a character facing a temptation of some sort. How does the character meet it? Does he resist? Does he give in? If so, what are the consequences? The next time a temptation sweeps over you with its siren call, you may well be prepared to meet it by thinking about how Odysseus tied himself to a mast and stopped up his ears, or by thinking about Frodo resisting the power of the Ring – or even by remember the wreckage of Gollum, who did not resist that same power.

The Bible is the ultimate book. It holds the distinction of being great literature at that same time as being true. It is not a book of fiction, though within its pages you will find stories called parables, and poetry with rich metaphors. But you also find in it plenty of real-life stories of men and women who lived large lives, committed great sins and met with a great Savior who sacrificed all so that those sins (and ours) might be forgiven and to begin the work of making us more like Him. It’s a cracking good story that also happens to be true. So if I could only retain one book on my bookshelf, it would be the Bible. No matter what else I’m reading, I’m always reading through that Great Book concurrently.

But I hope I’ll never be asked to give up other books that have been my teachers, my companions, my source of both good and bad examples, my inspiration, and such books that have been a joy and solace to my soul. Those books have indeed enabled me to “live life richly.”

Although I suspect that many of them may not make it into a syllabus entitled “Great Literature.” 😊

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but only if I have first read a great book in which the main character struggles against great odds and realizes that in order to makes things right, the blog post must go. Then I’ll do it.