At War With Time

I am now the age my mother was when I first thought she was getting old. hmm, that's kinda funny. Now that it's my turn, 40 doesn't seem so old. But I notice things changing. Little things here and there that aren't much their own, but add up to a lot when I think about them.

My oldest son is nearly 18, graduating , and already working. My daughter is 14 and looking more like a woman every day. She used to be the baby.

Max, the baby of the family, isn't really a baby anymore. He will turn 4 next month. Realizing he is the last child is both exhilarating and agonizing.

Looking in the mirror is an interesting experience. Who is that person? I am quite sure it isn't me. After all, I've never had grey hair, two chins and wrinkles. It must be someone else.

Just to make sure I went to my closet and pulled out photographs from 1992. Guess what? No wrinkles, only one chin, no grey hair, and lovely skin. Whew! For a moment there I thought I was getting old. *grin*

When I was younger I never paid any thought or attention to old people. They all looked the same to me. White hair and skin, yellow teeth, outdated clothing. Why didn't they care, I wondered? Didn't they know that polyester was out of style? Didn't they know that hairstyle went out of fashion 20 years ago? And why did they smell funny all the time?

Now I know better. The elderly are wise. Too wise to bow to the dictates of fashion magazines. Too wise to spend an hour in the bathroom fussing over a hairdo.

I feel nostalgic every so often when contemplating an elderly person. I wonder about their life. I wonder if they think about the days when they could run and play. Or if they miss looking in the mirror and seeing a smoother, less wrinkled face. Or maybe they miss their mom, dad, or spouse. Do they long for that feeling of excitement you can only get when you fall in love for the fist time?

Now I've said all this to say that we should respect our elderly a lot better in this country. And remember that every one of them used to possess youth and vitality. In trade, they have gained knowledge . If we will only stop and listen, we could learn a lot.

I still don't know why there is an old lady in my bathroom mirror. But she seems nice. I think I'll let her stay a while.
-E

"The Express"

It isn't often I would call a movie AMAZING and almost unheard for someone to make enough of an impression for me to consider them a hero. This film, about African-American football legend Ernie Davis, achieves both.

It would have been so easy for filmmakers to reduce the story into hollywood cliche'. Given the historical backdrop of the racially tense 40's-50's, I expected a heavy-handed whack on the head with a morality stick. Then next up would be the overly-dramatic, nail biting football scenes. You know the ones, where everything runs in slo-mo and the ball ALWAYS clears the goal as the timer hits zero. But no, none of that. Not at all.

I knew the movie was going to be good when Ernie Davis, regarding Jackie Robinson commented "Look at him accomplishing so much and not saying a thing about it." How different things would have been today. Very few people, especially the famous ones, make accomplishments without saying a lot.

In fact, many celebrities who have accomplished nothing feel as though they are entitled to spout off about any little detail that enters their minds.

So here's what "The Express" was really about: Honesty, Integrity, diligence, hard work, bravery, humility, self-control, ethics, and denial of self-gratification. The latter being a concept nearly extinct in modern society.

Ernie Davis was a hero. A gentleman, a silent warrior, and a true American. And he died. At just 23 years of age, Ernie was gone. Maybe he was just too good for this place.

-EJ

LIfe in the Fishbowl

When Phil and I first got married, we talked about wanting to honor God with our lives and our marriage. We had no idea at the time what that would ultimately look like, but we were open to whatever the Lord set before us.

At the time, Phil was selling advertising, teaching guitar, and serving as worship leader at our church. God soon led him back into full-time ministry and I suddenly found myself to be a pastor's wife.

It was scary. Really scary. We were basically jumping off a cliff trusting the Lord to catch us. Phil had schooling in the ministry, was well versed in his bible and was ready to step into the role of Pastor. I was still a relatively new christian and had a lot of spiritual "Growing up" to do. So I worried.

What if folks didn't like the way I dressed or spoke? Normally I wouldn't care , but when your profession reflects on the Heavenly Father, you tend to take the little stuff seriously. What if I couldn't fulfill the duties of Pastor's Wife properly, and what are the duties of a Pastor's Wife anyway?????

So the first three years have gone by, and it has been a wonderful experience. Our church is like family. The people are great. But there are downsides. And today, for some reason, I am really feeling down.

For starters, your always being watched. How you walk, act, talk, dress-everything. Your children are always being watched. Yeesh, this one is a hard one. Phil and I have a large, blended family of 5 kids. My two, especially the oldest, responded to having a pastor for a step-dad the only way teenagers can: Sheer Rebellion. Sometimes I felt we came to church to provide the "Don't let your kids turn out like ours" example.

Then there is the pressure to be whatever your expected to be. I've been told many times that I don't have to feel that way and that no one has expectations. Not True. Deep down inside people want a neat, pretty, dressed-up representation. It's easier to deal with. I understand that. But I can't do it. The husband and kids come first and there are only so many hours in a day.

Next, the blunt appraisals. My husband and I have fielded complaints about what bible we use to teach from, what materials we use to teach youth group, what kind of music we play in church, whether or not I show up for every single service, even where the children and I sit during services. And how loud we do or don't sing, and whether or not we sing emphatically enough. And that is the short list.

Also difficult is learning how much of myself to share with church friends. Again, most people like a certain image of their leadership. Too much information spoils things. I've made the mistake of telling church girlfriends too much about my personal life. Then later on it becomes the subject of gossip. Or a church friend may make a big point of befriending you, making you a fixture in their life and working to gain your trust, and then they just blow out of your life without so much as a backward glance.

Not surprisingly, ministry has a high burn-out rate. Nevertheless, God has been so good. Every Sunday I get to go and fellowship with a fantastic group of people. And I love them all. I realized that I just can't imagine not doing what we do. I don't want to do anything else. At least not until God finds something else for us to do.

And I still have a lot of growing up to do. God has a history of picking unlikely people to do His work. But he also helps them to accomplish all tasks for His Glory and His Honor. Praise the Lord for that.

Time for bed. Tomorrow I get to go praise God with a roomful of His people. How cool is that?

-EJ

Eating Cookies............

........by the Christmas tree, in the warm glow of the fireplace. Max is playing, Dante' is crocheting, I am holding my husband's hand. The older boys are playing video games downstairs and the house is quiet, peaceful.

For now we are happy, healthy, well-fed and free. We are blessed by God and will not take even the small things for granted. Wishing your family the same.

gratefully,
Ellen

George Maxwell Jeffery

Maxwell has three older brothers and one older sister at home. All of them teenagers. This has afforded him a decided edge in language development. Paxson and I have always loved the fine art of "word-smithing", and it appears Max will be no exception. Even still, this little boy has the ability to completely stun me. Not with his big, multi-syllable words. Not with his intellectual concepts. But with the beautiful , simple expression of a three year old.

Last week, Max brought me to near tears by proclaiming "I'm really enjoying growing up." Wow. That is the first time I have ever been told that. It was the nicest thing I've ever heard.

Just this evening, as we walked from the van to the house, Maxwell's little voice from behind me offered "This is a nice place to grow up." Stunned again.

I am generously told "I love you" and even "your beautiful" by my little one on a regular basis. Then he directs me to keep quiet about it. "It's just our little secret" he tells me. Fine with me.

So, if you wouldn't mind, please don't tell anyone. Its just our little secret.
grins,
-EJ

pumpkins, puppies, and legalism

Today was Halloween. As a Christian, a mom , and a Pastor's wife, the subject of Halloween is always a toughie. The mention of this 'holiday' can stir controversy and start fights faster than you can say "Holy legalism, Batman!" .

After a few years of avoiding this event like the plague, I finally grew tired of basing my actions on the fear of prying eyes and wagging tongues. The end result?: a great day. Maxwell gleefully skipped around the house in his dalmatian costume. He enjoyed the imaginative play. All day my little 'doggie' pretended to bark and scamper about on all fours.

In the afternoon, Paxson and Richard came upstairs to carve pumpkins with Max and Dante'. It was a rare moment to have most of the kids gathered together having fun. Paxson pronounced Maxwell to be cute and kissed his forehead. William emerged from his room dressed like a Ninja and he looked fabulous! I actually saw him smile before heading out to a football game.

Max loved trick-or-treating. It really was nice to be out in our neighborhood, chatting with friends, admiring the cuteness of other little kids and being a part of our community. We saw almost no 'scary' costumes. The smaller children go out earlier and were dressed very sweetly. I connected with people I hadn't seen in a while.

What is my point? Well, tonight stirred a bit of a memory in me. As a child, it was that feeling of wonder at being outdoors at night, the smell of the fresh, cool air, holding my mom or dad's dad, and that little bit of attention given by grownups handing out candy. "Aren't you cute?", they might say. Over the years , most of that got replaced by fear, legalism, and political correctness. Over time, Christmas parties at school became generic winter parties. Easter parties were blandly re-named spring parties, and Halloween became the devil's playground in the eyes of many.

Please don't give me a lecture on a pagan event practiced eons ago in a foreign country. That is not what we are doing here in the U.S. By that argument, we would have to give up Easter as well, and Christmas would simply have to go. After all, those same pagans who invented Samhain, also created Ostara, aka Easter, and Winter's solstice, aka Christmas. I can't speak for everyone , but I am assuming most of you reading this celebrate both the birth and resurrection of Jesus, our Lord and savior and don't give a hoot what the druids were doing about the same time hundreds to thousands of years ago. There is my point.

Last week one my son's little playmates informed him that he loves Satan, simply because he was excited for Christmas to come! Now what on earth am I supposed to say to that? That just broke my heart on behalf of both the kids. But I am not about to interfere with what a little one's parents have taught him/her. It isn't my place.

Haven't we learned through the real teachings of Jesus , that what we eat, how we eat, when we worship or where, is not the way we 'earn' a ticket to heaven? Does anyone assume that God is so shallow we can buy His glorious love by refusing to eat meat, or worshipping only on saturdays? If I refuse to acknowlege the day of my birth, does it make me more holy?
Newsflash: read the book of Matthew. It says plainly "No man comes to the Father but through Me!" in reference to Jesus.
That's it. The only way.

Is Halloween really important to me? No, not at all. But it has become the point at which I stop following a crowd and look to Christ for my direction in life. For those who choose to eschew this day, that's great. Please follow your own personal convictions. And I understand your concerns, as I have weighed these same matters many times over. But God is to be the centerpiece of our lives, not our lists of legalistic 'does' and 'don'ts'.
Peace,
EJ

urban homesteading

Below is a blurb from an article by Kelly Coyne. Really amazing stuff. Check out Kelly and Eriks blog at : homegrownevolution.com

"What is an Urban Homesteader?

An urban homesteader is someone who enjoys living in the city, but doesn't see why that should stop her from engaging directly with nature, growing her own food, and striving for self-sufficiency.

We don’t wish to retreat to the countryside and live like the Unabomber in a plywood shack. We believe that people are best off living in cities and cooperating with other like-minded folks. Instead of hoarding ammo and MREs, we're building the skills and forming the conditions and networks that sustain us, our friends and our neighbors, now and into the future.

Urban homesteading is about preparedness, but we don't like that term very much. It connotes stockpiling things that you hope will keep your ass alive. Survivalism in general is about the fear of death. Urban homesteading is about life – it is a way of life founded on pleasure, not fear. Our preparedness comes not so much through what we have, but what we know. We are recollecting the almost-lost knowledge of our great-grandparents, those most essential of human skill sets: how to tend to plants, how to tend to animals, and how to tend ourselves."

This is pretty much how I see it. Every single one of us has the power to improve our quality of life and increase our independence by doing for ourselves. Our grocery stores will continue to sell us inferior products full of pesticides, growth hormones and antibiotics unless we take a personal stand. And besides, urban homesteading is so much fun! I encourage you to take a small step today. Plant a little lettuce in your front yard, grow herbs in a pot on a windowsill- If your really brave, keep a chicken in your backyard! Fresh eggs are really fantastic. Not all runny and pale like store bought.
stepping down from the soapbox for now,
-EJ

Truer words..........

"The only way to avoid criticism is to say nothing,  do nothing,  be nothing."  Deceased advice columnist Ann Landers has been credited with this quote.  If that is the case, Ann was a vastly underrated woman. 

What I love about this quote is that it sets the reader free from his/her dependence on popular opinion as ego fodder.   We live in a time in which being famous is revered above all else. It doesn't even seem to matter what you become famous for, just so long as you are! With fame comes  the incessant speculation of the general public and it is all downhill from there.  The public is certainly not known for extending grace and understanding to those it has elevated to such a status. 

my point is this: Whether they admit it or not, too many people care what the world thinks of them. Many of us, myself included, wasted our teens and twenties trying to be funny, fashionable, popular, or liked. Years ago, even the smallest slight from another person had the power to cripple me for at least a day or two.

To this day I am acquainted with some wonderful people who don't have much to say. They are kind, sweet, polite- all the "safe" adjectives you can think of. And I would trade all that formality for one good meaty conversation.  It is okay to disagree from time to time. Take a moment every now and then to be 'Unpopular'. It isn't necessary to be rude or abrasive, just hold to your convictions without fear. 

In the end, only God's opinion matters. If I am trying to please Him, I will always find true peace  and acceptance.