The Church of Silence

April 30, 2006

My friend used to stay home from church sometimes just to get a little space. I confess, to my shame, that I judged her for not “being in church every time the doors are open.” Now that my kids are older, and there is noise CONSTANTLY at my house, I am wiser.

Today my family is at church, and I stayed home. The hour of silence uninterrupted by arguing, whining, demands and responsibilities is the best form of worship I can imagine. I know it can’t be my church home every week, but today my heart exults in listening to the rain and the quiet.

Shhh. The service has started . . .


I love Third Day. Talk about a finger on the pulse of what it means to be alive and to struggle with faith. Check them and other artists out at Weekend Top 25.

Cry Out To Jesus
Words by Mac Powell / Music by Third Day

To everyone who’s lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye

And to all of the people with burdens and pains
Keeping you back from your life
You believe that there’s nothing and there is no one
Who can make it right

There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He’ll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus, Cry out to Jesus

For the marriage that’s struggling just to hang on
They lost all of their faith in love
They’ve done all they can to make it right again
Still it’s not enough

For the ones who can’t break the addictions and chains
You try to give up but you come back again
Just remember that you’re not alone in your shame
And your suffering

When your lonely
And it feels like the whole world is falling on you
You just reach out, you just cry out to Jesus
Cry to Jesus

To the widow who struggles with being alone
Wiping the tears from her eyes
For the children around the world without a home
Say a prayer tonight

(c) 2005 Consuming Fire Music / ASCAP. All rights administered by EMI
CMG Publishing. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

The Pincushion Challenge

April 27, 2006

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Julie of Booga J and Black Sheep Bags fame has posed a challenge on her blog–a Pincushion Challenge. This month’s theme is Fruit.

I pondered, shall I make a new pincushion? I don’t really need one, and I don’t want any diversions from my knitting. Then I envisioned a cute knit/felted pincushion. I’m noodling on one. It might be a challenge with the Use What You Have philosophy I am trying to espouse (at the end of the month–maybe mine will be UWYH year). But some black strawberries (what they really look like in my fridge anyway) or some green whatevers might be cute. I’ll keep noodling, or should I say rolling ideas around in my melon?


April 26, 2006

by Jack and a classmate when told to describe something outside in poetry form:

It’s bright green, and orange, and grows in the ground,
And if you’re lucky, more than 2 will be found.
They’ve got a weird song named after them,
It’s sung by a fellow who’s name is Tiny Tim.
It’s in front of a wall paved with some bricks,
And in between bushes with lots of green pricks.
3 of them are extremely tall,
But one hasn’t grown yet it’s still very small.
And right behind them, but not back to the wall,
There’s a bright yellow bush with sticks leaves and all.
You’ll find them on this street, by the elementary school,
In summer, they’re pretty, like diamonds or jewels.
Inside of them, it’s dark green and yellow,
Outside, the colors are bright, but inside they’re mellow.
We’ll give you a hint, they’re surrounded by wood chips,
If you haven’t guessed yet, we’ll tell you . . .

They’re tulips!

by Jack, age 10

This is a poem, a poem by me,
A very good poem, as you shall soon see.

The man you see is a car repair tuner,
His name, his name, is Jake P. Hayes, Jr.

He works really hard, all day and all night.
And his 5 o’clock shadow could give you quite a fright!

He owns a Ford pick-up from twenty-oh-two,
He calls it the Cockroach, cuz’ it’s the color of poo.

He takes it to the carwash ’bout every sixth week,
But some time before that it starts to reek.

He went to college in Boston Massachusetts,
He has a degree, he’s just tryin’ not to lose it.

His best friend’s name, why it’s Alex D. Moss,
And he offered him a job at the Village Car Wash!

It’s a good-payin’ job, don’t get me wrong,
And the Cockroach could use a bath before long!

But Jacob’s a handyman, works good on cars,
He can fix any car, maybe even yours!

So he turned down the job offer, so that was that,
And he went home to see his kitten, Jinkie T. Pratt.

He loves Italian food, pizza’ll do fine,
He eats many pizzas, from two up to nine!

He was born some day ’round June time, Friday, I think,
So that leaves the day as the missing link.

He lives in Chicago, on State Street and Main,
Complex 100, Apartment 3A.

He grew up near Seattle, with two sisters and mom,
His dad was not with them, he was long gone.

Well Dad, poor guy, he caught a high fever,
And that was the end of Jake P. Hayes, Senior.

When he moved away, he bought a fat cat,
And that was the father of Jinkie T. Pratt!

So Jake wasn’t lonely, cuz Jink’s lively and fun,
So you know Jake’s happy, and my poem’s done.

*** Note from Jack’s fifth grade teacher–

Jack was given a picture of a person to write about. He chose to write a poem and did a fantastic job! I am so proud of him!

***Note from Jack’s mother–

Is anyone else thinking Richard Corey?

Richard Corey

WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed, 5
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace: 10
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, 15
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Edwin Arlington Robinson. 1869–

You Knit What?

April 26, 2006

Found a funny website that rips on the ugly designs from yarn companies/designers: You Knit What?. My kids thought I was insane because I was laughing so hard. Four-letter word and VERY ugly knitting warning.

Well, mine’s the coolest. Doc Hayes, know to his family as Dr. P, Emeritus, is a retired Reading Specialist and former Dean of Education of Brandon University in Manitoba Canada. He spends his retirement traveling the North American West and sharing his love of words and the Old West with kindred spirits. He is showcased this month at waco belle, a Cowboy Poetry website. Yes, he is just as handsome as his picture, and truly one of the nicest, smartest, deepest and coolest guys I know. All my friends are jealous that I have the best Dad. Thanks, God.

from Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 10

So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle–will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’ t you, won’ t you join the dance?

“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
But the snail replied, “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance–
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France–
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
Will you, won’ t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance ?”

“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said Alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: “and I do so like that curious song about the whiting!”

“Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, “they–you’ve seen them, of course?”

“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at dinn–” she checked herself hastily.

“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle, “but if you’ve seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.”

“I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. “They have their tails in their mouths–and they’re all over crumbs.”

“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle: “crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; and the reason is–” here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes. “Tell her about the reason and all that,” he said to the Gryphon.

“The reason is,” said the Gryphon, “that they would go with the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.”

Ain’t it the Truth?

April 26, 2006

Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
5 Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
10 That slepen al the nyght with open eye-
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages

Nobody said it better than Chaucer.

Cedar & Mint Soap

April 25, 2006

Hoodathunkit? I never would have put cedar and mint together, but the folks at Bare Earth did, and it’s great. I’ve been a liquid soap convert for years. So much so that my kids “literally” did not know what a bar of soap was, “literally.” I think Bare Earth might be calling me back to bar soap. Though I usually give all my bar soap to my dear friend Deborah, she might have to fight me for this one.