leisure

Today is our day off. Thursday, the sixth of May. Mario and I decided last night we would make the most of our day and be blobs.

As I type this now, Mario has just woken up from a nap and is walking around like a five-year-old boy with chinese eyes and a mop of silver hair in a heap. I am happy to say that I had been sitting on the couch prior to blogging. I ate lunch in front of the TV...which was rather a sedentary thing to do. My healthful chicken breast (complete with fresh broccoli and carrots and mushrooms) was accompanied by a diet coke ....and five cookies. Ha!! Only on a leisurely day do I get a chance to do this kind off garbage.

On our day off, we tend to schedule stuff we want to do, rather than stuff we have committed to do.

This morning I had breakfast with Suzanne, my friend (and lead elders' wife). We chatted and chatted and chatted... This was followed by a workout with Natalie, the most incredible trainer. I looked up in the middle of sweating and saw the most amazing hunk on the machines in the cardio area. He was wearing a new beanie that he got at the petrol station the night before for free when he bought a large pump water and two power-ades. Thank God I married this guy!! Cute and practical.

After about two weeks of non-stop begging, Mario agreed to go check out a Jack Russel puppy at the SPCA that I thought would be a suitable companion for our psycho dog, Zuzu. She was already adopted. While we were there, we checked out the thrift shop on site, and bought lots of cool stuff: Trivial Pursuit, Balderdash, a standing mixer, a crystal beer mug...and a cribbage game.

Since we were in separate cars, I asked Mario if I could do a quick grocery shopping, and headed off to buy essentials.

I came home to a clean house because Lorraine was here (the girl who helps with housework) but soon rescued her from the bathroom, where a water pipe erupted and was splashing hot water everywhere. After shutting the main water source off we summoned help, where our resident plumbers (We live on a property with 5 houses and an office for a construction company) told us we needed new parts, since the rusted pipes gave way. I asked if they could wait twenty minutes.

I finished cooking lunch for Mario and I, and also our friends, Terry and Manny who have been in the hospital for three days with their son, Calvin, who has had a variety of health concerns. I had whipped up a curry and rice with a couple of sauces...and gave a box of cookies for dessert. (I actually was surprised when I found them. "Hey!! Where did these come from? We shouldn't have cookies in the house!! I'll eat all of these.") Behind the first box of evil cookies there was another one. Kept those.

I drove Elvis (our plumber...yes, that's his real name. Black. African. Elvis.) to Terry and Manny's house where I dropped off the meal... and woke her from a nap. I apologized and handed off the food. Kiss, kiss, gotta go buy plumbing parts...

Builder's Warehouse is a terrible shop that wants to be Home Depot. Both stores drive me nuts, but Builder's Warehouse drives me insane with schizophrenia. We bought new pipes, new faucet, a new wrench (a dog and a wrench...I guess we're planning on filing for permanent residency here) and checked out as quickly as I could. On the way home I chatted with Elvis about south Africa and traditions and God.

Home. Mario napping, Lorraine cleaning, kitchen spotless... no water. The guys worked furiously and repaired everything in twenty minutes. I sat down with my lunch determined to eat healfully and stay on my diet.... Until I remembered the cookies.
Yummmm....

Zuzu thought the cookies looked like her dog biscuits, and she has mastered the yearning look -- one that can say she would like to be given a dog cookie since her master's wife is enjoying human cookies. I caved in and gave her a beano (the name of the dog bicuits here) and hide one in the room (her favorite game is to sniff it out).

I was watching an old DVD - "Shining Through" - where Melanie Griffith is actually good and still has the body and face God gave her. It's a cool moment...until I remembered that I wanted to blog.

Boom... 6:15 p.m. That is a faithful narrative of our day off so far.

I am going to tell Mario to hide the cookies.

I can't sniff them out like the dog.

alice

Now and then, when we break away from full-time ministry we take a look at the Americas, the modern-day Greece that sets the world alight. The movies, my favorite comfort, trickle into South Africa two or three months after they have debuted in the USA. This used to annoy me, being a film buff, but I have to admit that it no longer does, since I have admitted that I never see first-run movies anyway.

The truth of the matter is that no one is quiet during a flick anymore. Not even in the best movie-houses. I remember the first film when I realized this -- on my 23rd birthday wathcing "Little Shop of Horrors" with Shari and Colleen, my two excellent sisters. I sat next to a vata, angry that the theater sold out and that she had to be bottled up next to me.

I don't blame her, really. There was nowhere else to sit, and I was just as frustrated that I didn't have laughing room... with all the movie was pitched to be.

Still, theaters have become talkative, unfriendly places for people who love film. I'd rather see a film on a plane.

Today, as I un-wound in front of our small tv (it is a normal screen, with no bells, whistles or HD) I saw a show called "America's Top 10" talking about the box office in America, or what films were bringing in those valuable American dollars. Ha!! The show is very interesting and instantly connects me with our industry that is so sublime, so valuable to the hearts and souls of so many...and to me.

The film "Alice in Wonderland" by Tim Burton was featured as one of the top ten. I watched as the new film by Burton (the man who fancies himself as a dark, cutting edge filmmaker) featured a 19-year-old Alice who "returns to the magical world from her childhood adventure, where she reunites with her old friends and learns of her true destiny: to end the Red Queen's reign of terror"...and I sighed.

Burton has always been a joke to me. First of all, he's beautiful, but so dark and emo and clueless that I laugh at his pathetic attempt to bring truth and beauty to a medium he could have conquered long ago with the conception of truth. I feel no sorrow or pity that he's lost it, even with Johnny Depp as a star and the Hatter (who I would love to see in this role). Instead of conveying truth inside of his surreal world, he perpetuates a Disney "un-truth" -- Alice is docile, a sideshow in her own story...and blonde. The cardinal sin.

Alice Liddel, in truth, was the daughter of Lewis Carrol's boss. She was a brunette, stunning... imaginitaive, and a pain in the ass.

On 4 July 1862, in a row boat, 10-year-old Liddell asked Charles Dodgson (who wrote under the pen name Lewis Carroll) to entertain her and her sisters, Edith (age 8) and Lorina (age 13), with a story. As the Reverend Robinson Duckworth rowed the boat, Dodgson regaled the girls with fantastic stories of a girl, named Alice, and her adventures after she fell into a rabbit-hole. The story was not unlike those Dodgson had spun for the sisters before, but this time Liddell asked Mr. Dodgson to write it down for her. He promised to do so but did not get around to the task for some months. He eventually presented her with the manuscript of "Alice's Adventures Under Ground" in November 1864. This set the stage for the most brilliant screenplay of Walt Disney: Alice in Wonderland. There was only one hiccup, one scratch in the record: Disney made Alice blonde.

He also made her very polite. Alice, in the tale penned by Carroll, was a self-righteous, stubborn, willful girl in need of a good hiding (as the English say). His deep portrayal of the eleven-year-old was so unnatural for the day that most folks frowned upon the portrayal of the womanly Alice, almost domineering and adult... Carroll was later kicked aside by the family and never allowed near the girl again. Imaginations and stories strayed.

As I sit back and see the Alice appear again on film, I can say that again I am disappointed in the portrayal. Alice a blonde. Alice clueless. Oh dear, oh dear. The Mad Hatter is the real goon. The Queen of Hearts (or as Burton calls her, the Red Queen) chosen as the resident lunatic. Oh dear, oh dear.

How many times can we et the story wrong?? Yeah, Tim Burton, you're so goth and cool and we bow down to you, oh master of creativity and life.

And deceit.

I know the real story.

Alice was no Blonde.

My daughter was named after the real one.

She wasn't blonde.

achor

In Anne of Green Gables, Anne, a newly placed orphan who tends toward melodrama, asks her new foster mother, the austere, stable Marilla "Can't you even IMAGINE you're in the depths of despair?" Marilla Cuthbert hesitates for a small second, only to look Anne squarely in the eye, and answer "No I cannot. To despair is to turn your back on God."

One girl, a drama queen, the other a realist and firm in her faith, and I see myself in both of them. As Anne, I see my life "as a perfect graveyard of buried hopes", with the back of my hand against my forehead. As Marilla, I have no time for weakness or nonsense.

In a rare and delightful revelation, my (heavenly) Father told me this morning I was in a place called "The Valley of Achor". By giving it a name, I have been given comfort, even though the place is named for one person screwing things up. The story of how the Valley got its name- one that it keeps to this day- is the story of one man, a hidden treasure and a redeemer.

After Jericho's famous fall, Joshua (Israel's General) told all of Israel two things: Jericho is cursed and must never be rebuilt; and no Israelite should take one thing from the spoils of the people of Jerico. Most people listened, but a man named Achan took three things from the ruined city and hid them in his tent. It is said that this one action of this man "turned God's anger toward Israel".

When later confronted, Achan confessed his sin, and explained to Joshua that "In the plunder I spotted a beautiful Shinar robe, two hundred shekels of silver, and a fifty-shekel bar of gold, and I coveted and took them. They are buried in my tent with the silver at the bottom." Joshua checked it out and found it to be true. The rest of the story is less than happy -- Achan and his family were publically and summarily killed for the crime. After that, they named the Valley "Achor" (trouble) made a memorial to what happened, and God's anger was appeased.

I thought this morning that God was telling me that I was in a place of stealing something (spiritually, maybe) for myself instead oif trusting in Him, but then He showed me something new: the promise beyond the Valley of Achor. It is found later in the Bible, in a book that I looooove, called Hosea. God sees Israel, a bride that has become a prostitue and decides to "deal with her". How does he do this? He loves her.That;s his answer. Love, redemption, reinstating value, love, covenant - a promise that can't be broken.

"And now, here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to start all over again. I'm taking her back out into the wilderness where we had our first date, and I'll court her. I'll give her bouquets of roses. I'll turn Valley of Achor into the Door of Hope. She'll respond like she did as a young girl, those days when she was fresh out of Egypt. "At that time"--this is GOD's Message still-- "you'll address me, 'Dear husband!' Never again will you address me, 'My slave-master!' I'll wash your mouth out with soap, get rid of all the dirty false-god names, not so much as a whisper of those names again. At the same time I'll make a peace treaty between you and wild animals and birds and reptiles, And get rid of all weapons of war. Think of it! Safe from beasts and bullies! And then I'll marry you for good--forever! I'll marry you true and proper, in love and tenderness. Yes, I'll marry you and neither leave you nor let you go. You'll know me, GOD, for who I really am. "On the very same day, I'll answer"--this is GOD's Message-- "I'll answer the sky, sky will answer earth, Earth will answer grain and wine and olive oil, and they'll all answer Jezreel. I'll plant her in the good earth. I'll have mercy on No-Mercy. I'll say to Nobody, 'You're my dear Somebody,' and he'll say 'You're my God!'"
Hosea 2:14-23

This is the greates promise He gives me. As I pray for children far removed from me, God's promise is greater than any threat posed by anyone or anything. When I cry out for the salvation of the township, God's revelation is His desire is to be HER husband, not her warden.

When I fall, when I fail, I am renewed and given a fresh start. I am redeemed by a husband, not a master. My God LOVES me and treaasures me. He is the greatest promise keeper of my life.

Respect, renewal, love.

In the Valley of Achor is a door of hope. It is mine...my hope. It is yours, ours. Our only hope in a world gone mad.

mayday

The history of Mayday is a confusing one. Depending where in the world you are it could be a day where the corporate would be forced to recognize the masses (it is said to have begun in Russia as a "labor day" kind of holiday). Or it could be a day of commemorating the oncoming spring, as in a presentation of May baskets and delivering flowers in small paper baskets to the door, hoping you won't be caught, lest you may be forced to kiss the person you are delivering it to.

My favorite Mayday story comes from Oxford, England. At sunrise, tradition mandates that a large collection of college students from (of course) Oxford colleges welcome the day (and the season) by listening to traditional songs from choirs in the Great Tower of Magdalen College before the clock strikes six a.m. As soon as the clocktower strikes six, several students, mad as hatters, jump off Magdalen Bridge into the River Cherwell. If you want a good visual, watch "Shadowlands" the story of C.S. Lewis finding love, and you will see the dramatization of the whole event. There is a line from the movie where Anthony Hopkins (as Lewis) tells his future wife, Joy (Debra Winger) as they watch: "They're all mad. I wish I were one of them."

In recent years the bridge has been closed on May first to prevent people from jumping, as the water under the bridge is only two feet deep and jumping from the bridge has resulted in serious injury. To save people from impulsively hurting themselves, the British government took matters into their own hands. The singing is still legal, but the jumping off the bridge at six is not.

In the past yet there are still people who insist on climbing the barriers and leaping into the water, causing injury to themselves, and later regretting their fool-hardy actions. Their one consolation is that they will live through it, and later tell their grandchildren.

Speaking of grandchildren, I saw mine today. Harmony got her first tooth and as Alicia struggled to keep her still long enough to show me, she finally said "She wiggles too much now." I laughed. It was a good chat, and I talked with Bud and Alicia for awhile even though they can't see me (my new computer does not recognize my webcam). I spoke like a mother, they listened dutifully. Sometimes I can't believe they're still together, but they are determined. I have tried to discourage foolhardy behavior.. but it is no use, and I have just learned to shut my mouth and love them.

Ahh, youth. I remember those days. In some ways, I am glad God saved me from myself. In other ways, I can be like Lewis, a good man of God, proclaiming "They're all mad. I wish I were one of them."

Happy Mayday. Kiss, kiss.

review

I've decided that once a month I am going to review a book. Sometimes it will be fiction, sometimes it will be life helps, etc. My life here is marked by (among other things)several books always open lying around the house. Lorraine follows me around and asks politely if I am currently reading this book as well as the three others by my bed.

This month I have just finished reading "Like Water For Elephants", a novel by Sara Gruen, set in Post-depression America, about the big top circus (NOT Ringling Brothers) in other words, the circus equivalent for "Off-Broadway". It is amazing, and I think many of you would enjoy.

We have a saying here "like water for an elephant" which means a useless gesture. Loosely translated, it means a that there is a certain uselessness to give someone who is VERY poor anything - for the very reason that it will never be enough. The elephants in the wild travel in herds and are usually the first to suck a water hole dry. The metaphor is complete implying the uselessness of bringing a thirsty elephant a bucket of water, or several, to quench its thirst.

As soon as I saw the big top cover I was even more interested. I read once that when circus elephants arrived in a town, many kids would gather and offer to bring water to the elephant so it could drink and they may be rewarded with free tickets. Maybe this was it?? The figure of a man entering a Big top from the side flap, only to see a figure looking in from the main door struck me as if it were something I was not supposed to see. This was the beginning of a mezmerizing journey....

In post-depression America, Jacob Jankowski, a bound-for-glory, then displaced graduate student who tragically loses his parents, home and future in the first breath of the story, is our 23 year old hero that we instantly like and feel sorry for. He impulsively, almost accidentally, joins a circus, instantly realizing how destitute he is. Hard work, hideous living conditions, a life on the rails, BUT food...becomes his reality. In the world that he (and we) is new to, he is forced to see and witness more than meets the normal spectator's eye. In no time we all face the reality of running a circus instead of watching one.

The screeching of brakes against rails; railcars stuffed with wild and exotic animals as well as straw, manure, closely knit sleeping quarters; townfolk (or Rubes) that come to the show; sensuality, sex, alcoholism; and Uncle Al, the Ringleader/owner/cheat/boss extrordinairre, are just for suckers! These are only the backdrop of a magnificent story. Interwoven is the love, the man, the compassion of caretakers. Jacob. Marlena. August.

I have to admit that I was surprised and pleased at the ending that the author gives many clues leading up to, but I never got. It is, as a matter of fact, what made me really love the book. The title is the bullhook of what will later prove to be useless information. The payoff at the end is worth it... and makes you want to research the whole history yourself.

A dramatic story with incredible insight and scene recreation, at times I would come to the end of a chapter, look around and remember that I was here, not there.

tsidkenu

I remember the first days after I knew Jesus was real and personal. He wasn't just a historical figure, but a man who lived and still lives and now knows me personally and loves me, just as I am. I was completely bowled over by the incredible second chance I had in my life. I completely felt free and easy for days. It wasn't until my old self popped up that I started worrying...

Maybe I wasn't doing this right. Maybe the real Janet would eat the "new" Janet and I would once again be a selfish, hell-bent-on-destruction girl who could forget grace and Him, the new, unveiled saviour who died to set me free. I would become as large as the Stay-puft marshmallow man in Ghostbusters and destroy all the work that God was trying to do in me.

That was twenty three years ago. Yesterday.

As I turn over events in my head I can see the old and new vying for control of the Janet the world sees. It makes me sick. Janet should be completely surrendered, and if my own self-bludgeoning won't get me there maybe doing kind acts and worshipping will. I am a walking contradiction in the sight of this world.

But in the sight of my God, I am His. Whether I do bad or good, and whether they all balance eachother out, or one outweighs the other, it really is less important than this: I am His. I am His daughter, the adopted princess who is safe on base with her Father, who rules the World.

Adopted into the people, HIS PEOPLE, that He called His own. He even promised that His people would have a special part of their lineage that He called "The Righteous Branch" - the part of the family tree made perfect by one: JESUS. Because of this branch I am grafted in to God's family. It is my only hope to being called His. His daughter.

In the Bible (Jeremiah 23:6) the righteous branch is given a name: Jehovah Tsidkenu. God, Our Righteousness.

It was later (in 1993) that I got it. I came out of the shower and I was towelling off, thinking of a situation in church. One of the leaders of the Women's group had said something about me to someone else. It wasn't true, and I felt victimized. I told the person I had heard this news from an earful about said women's group leader. Most of it was true, but when it got back to her she called a meeting of all the women to talk about it. I was getting ready to go. I was fearful, knowing I had gossipped about her, but also mad because she had gossipped about me. It was all happening in church!! My goodness, it was really a mess. As I dressed I asked God for help. He spoke to my heart and asked me to ask the woman for forgiveness. It made sense, but I knew it would seem to her as an ommission of guilt... bleeding in front of a shark. He smiled (figuratively) and basically said, "So?" I just realized that I was guilty. I was wrong, but it didn't make God love me less.

And that thought brought the break in my belief that I had to be a good enough Christian to be deserving of that name. The truth was,all I had to be was humble. All I had to do was listen to Him. All I had to do was be real...and loooove, love, love.

Jehovah (GOD) Tsidkenu (MY Righteousness).

I have no other.

today

Some days are easier than others. Some days are beautiful and wonderful and nothing hurts. There are friends who love you and make you feel affirmed just by being alive. There's laughter that requires a bathroom and an inhaler; warnings to people to stop. You feel completely connected to a person who is energy giving and wonderful. Today is one of those days.

Some days are harder than others. There is rain, discontent about a variety of things that ache and hurt and don't fit. You feel overwhelmed by failure and separation from humankind; your significant other doesn't understand you or doesn't seem to try to. Everything you attempt seems to suck the life out of you. Today is one of those days.

The laughter and tears are usually not intermingled as much as this day: the day that has been so full and still so strange. At the end I should be able to say "See how alive I am!! How much I am capable of feeling!!" Instead, emotions have taken me on a roller coaster ride that upset my stomach and left me in no mood for anything else.

I have been loved and affirmed; laughed and cried; had words of encouragement and been the object of cruel disdain. I have eaten and feasted; grown sick and nauseous; been connected and stroked; felt separated and ashamed. One day of too much stuff in contrast is enough to drive you mad, wondering if you're making too much out of a dumb day like every other day.

Tomorrow is newness and another chance. Promise of renewal. Relationships could possibly be mended. Blessings to you all...and I'll see you tomorrow.