All posts by Tim

School Starts

I would post a snapshot of my kitchen table if it weren’t so pathetic. It does not look like the organized, tidy office space of an efficient home educator. There are receipts from the first week of January in a stack next to the laptop. We have yet to close out December’s budget – there are too many loose ends floating around to be sure of our exact number and both Tim and are dreading the work of figuring it all out. I’m sure we didn’t overspend after all our hard work and determination to stick to the budget.

Wow, I almost said that with a straight face.

Can you say “DENIAL!”

.that's a LOT of snow

A picture of our street, three days before Christmas.

There’s a Vikings hat in the center of the table next to a birthday card. My birthday is in July so I’m not sure how that card found its way among all the Christmas letters. Just another sterling example of the pat rack motto we live by. A deck of cards is shoved to one side, the last remnant of our New Year’s parties. My new Nutrimill is at the head of the table, waiting patiently for me to mill some wheat.

Did I mention I was blessed with a new grain mill for Christmas??? Oh, yes!! Doing the happy dance here. I’m still in shock over the HUGE gift.

Can I ignore the start of school and just grind wheat and make bread all day? My friends and neighbors, hoping for a loaf of bread, would all shout a resounding ‘yes!’

At the other end of the table is my new, fantastic cookbook from my aunt. It’s the all-new edition of The New Best Recipe by Cooks Illustrated.

Let's Bake!

I am completely in love with this cookbook. Can I say that about a cookbook? Is that getting too personal? I’ve spent hours pouring over the pages, reading, planning and making notations. I’ve already tried the hearty beef stew and mashed potatoes. Tomorrow I hope to make the pot roast dinner. All the BEST recipes with detail and precision that can’t be beat. You can imagine Tim’s delight as I cart this 1000 page book off to read before bed. It takes up practically half the bed.

do we have to go back to school?

We had enough snow for Christmas to satisfy all our snow bunnies.

The kitchen is mostly clean with a dirty dish here or there, a box of crackers and some party plates.

Where is the schedule for tomorrow’s school day?
The ingredients for our big breakfast, celebrating the first day back at school?
Fresh assignments for all the children?

Nope, no, nada.

All that you would see, beyond the mild chaos of a lived in house, is a squinting, tired mother who has stayed up too late the last three days ringing in the New Year.

Between the parties and the general fun, I’m exhausted.

david hits the snow flying

The slide served as a little sledding hill, right in our own backyard.

I need a mini vacation to rest up from the holidays. Sadly, even the snow that fell this evening doesn’t bring any respite. Homeschoolers don’t really get snow days.

I had better get to bed. That alarm is going to ring VERY early for this night owl crowd.

Happy New Year – shall we jump into 2009 with poised pencils and cheerful attitudes?

It’s gonna be a stretch but I’m always up for an adventure.

Kathy

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Melchior’s Monologue

Today is Christmas Eve, and my heart is full of thanks and joy. We spent the evening at church, delivering cookies to friends and neighbors, and watching a Christmas movie. We opened one round of presents, and now we’re waiting to celebrate the Birthday of our King.

Most people get their last chance to play a part in a Christmas pageant when they’re in grade school. By the time you’re in sixth grade, you’ve hung up your shepherd and wise man costumes for good. This year our church offered monologue opportunities to a select few, and I snapped up the chance. “I’d love to be a wise guy,” I e-mailed rapidly. “I wouldn’t mind being Joseph or Simeon, and in a pinch, I’d take Herod.”

They let me be a wise man, and gave me 4 minutes in both the Christmas Eve services. I dressed up in a robe, with a piece of golden cloth from our friend Tina as a rich accessory, and borrowed leather sandals (I couldn’t find mine). I decided to forgo the turban, since it seemed to require a 30′ long piece of cloth, and a lot of patience in assembling. One of our elders did a first-person monologue as Herod, and another talked to us about Mary. One of our pastors told us about the lessons Joseph’s life taught, and our senior pastor focused on Jesus himself (senior pastors are sometimes greedy that way).

Here is my monologue — I offer it up to my Lord as a birthday present:

Salaam aleikum. I am Melchior, one of the Magi who came from the east to worship the new Jewish king.

My colleagues and I spend our lives in the study of the skies. Over the years, we’ve developed many elaborate theories about the meanings of these stars and planets, and the times of their appearance … truth is, I’ve never been very sure about many of our conclusions.

One thing we all could see plainly: this new star was in the part of the sky that indicated a major event in the House of Jacob, among the Jewish people who lived northeast of Egypt, near the Western Sea.

We argued about it for a long time, my companions and I, but we finally agreed that the appearance of this new star must indicate the birth of a king. One of us suggested a wild plan: we could send a delegation to find and meet this new king.

I knew immediately that I had to be one of those who were sent. We planned our journey and selected gifts that we could bring, items of value that would help to make us welcome in foreign lands. One selected gold (always a good choice) and another frankincense (preferred by royalty). I had some difficulty deciding what to give to a Jewish king, but I settled upon high quality myrrh, a valuable resin made from the sap of a thorny tree in our region. I’ll admit it was an odd and somewhat sinister gift for a new king, most often used in burial rituals.

We set off in a caravan, following the star whenever we could see it, heading west toward the Trans-Jordan area. Arriving at last in Jerusalem, we discreetly asked about the new king, but soon came to the attention of Herod, the brutal, half-breed Jewish king appointed by the Romans to rule over that area.

I must say, I was worried. Here we were, far from home, with a minimal escort, telling an uneasy ruler about a potential threat to his throne. He seemed unaware of any new prince, and our hearts sank. Had we come all this way for nothing?

When Herod summoned the priests, our hope was renewed. Their scriptures indicated that the king would be born in a small village just south of Jerusalem. Herod sent us on our way, with apparent good will, encouraging us to search diligently for the child and to tell him all about this new king, “so he too could come and worship him”.

I’ve got to say, I never believed him. Sure, a king has his dignity, and he’d look foolish searching the countryside on a rumor … but I couldn’t help thinking that the only ‘worship’ this new king would receive from Herod would be at the tip of a spear.

As we approached the village of Bethlehem, the star was once again revealed, and it moved so that it stood over a particular house. Not a palace, just a simple house, with a peasant family living inside. There was a work table and a few tools, a man, a woman … and a little boy child, toddling about.

I could hardly believe my eyes; was this the king that we’d come so far to find? But the star we’d seen and followed had moved, and clearly indicated this house … so this must be Him. I felt a certainty, welling up in my heart, an ability to believe that had never gripped me before: this was the king, and more than a king, foretold by the star.

We prostrated ourselves as though the child was the Roman emperor, and offered our gifts to the boy and his parents. As they told us the story of his birth, the things that had been told them by angels, and what the shepherds saw and heard, I came to understand that this was no earthly king. Rather, in the body of this little boy-child, God … had come to live among us.

The night before we had planned to leave, we each had a dream, sent by God. He told us not to trust Herod’s intentions toward the child, and to go home another way, not by passing through Jerusalem. We felt very honored and overwhelmed by God’s kindness to us, showing us a small part of His plan and confirming that this child really was sent by Him. We made our way home, filled with joy and wonder.

In these ten years since we visited Bethlehem, I’ve often wondered about that boy, as he grows up, thinking about what he will do. I still watch the skies for further signs, and I eagerly question travelers from that area. Back home, our story was met with skepticism by those who didn’t journey with us, but I believe that God has come among us, and is working out His plan among the Jewish people. I was there, and I believe.

Tim
Merry Christmas!

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WFMW — MP3 Downloads

A couple of weeks ago we learned a new praise chorus in church. Written by Chris Tomlin, it is a simple, melodic song that, as we sang it in worship to God, reached a crescendo that touched my soul. I hummed it (off-tune, of course) all the way home. When I walked in the door, I immediately sat down and looked it up in Amazon’s MP3 Store. Sure enough, the song was entitled Praise the Father, Praise the Son, and was downloadable instantly for $0.99. I bought it on the spot, and was listening to it 60 seconds later. It turned out to be much better than my tuneless humming.

All this was done even before I had lunch, which just goes to show that there are more important things than Sunday lunch.

sarah, rachel and jenny

Rachel’s good friends joined us for church on Sunday.

When I was a surly young teenager, there weren’t very many voices in the Contemporary Christian Music scene. There were the Praise Maranatha Singers, Amy Grant, Keith Green, DeGarmo and Key, Petra, and somewhat later, that Johnny-come-lately, Michael W. Smith.

My parents had some deep misgivings about the godliness of this so-called ‘Christian’ rock music, and so I had to listen on headphones, or deep in the bowels of my basement bedroom. I remember feeling vaguely resentful about that, and using their seemingly-unreasonable stance against contemporary Christian music to justify (in my own mind, at least) my rebelliousness in listening to secular rock on the sly. (As is the case with many teenagers, I exercised no monopoly on logic.)

Now I have a teenager of my own, and two younger ones who seem to think they are teenagers. As a Christian parent, I am determined to encourage my children in godliness, and not to allow Satan a foothold in the area of music. For this reason, I permit, and even encourage my kids to develop their own tastes in the area of music styles, but I insist that they listen to music that has godly lyrics and is performed by people who love and follow Jesus. I don’t see any benefit that secular music would provide to my children, and so far nobody has argued that point with me.

sarah sweetie pie

Sarah doesn’t want to argue with her daddy, no sir!

In the old days, we would sign up for some CD-of-the-month club (like Sound and Spirit) and buy whole albums featuring our favorite artists. Or maybe we would go to a Christian book store and listen to some of their demo albums. Either way, we’d end up buying a whole CD. Then we would cull through those songs and find the one or two songs on the CD that we could stand, and add them to our playlist on the computer.

In this modern age of wonder, we can listen to each song in advance and we buy only the ones we like, at a competitive price, albeit in digital form.

For Kathy’s birthday, I made a list of all the songs I had heard recently, that I actually liked. (Kathy and I have similar, but not entirely congruent, tastes in music – but, hey, if I liked ‘em, she probably would, too. Either way, there would be music around that I like.)

I listened to our local Christian radio station for days, making notes every time I heard them play a good song. I searched the web for new songs by artists we have enjoyed in the past, and spent hours listening to their albums. Eventually, I had a list of 25 songs or so, and I spent an hour one evening buying them all. I loaded them on a flash drive, and wrapped it up for her so she could have something tangible to unwrap.

Amazon makes it really easy for you – once you’ve installed the download manager plug-in for your browser, you simply click to buy, and the song appears magically in the “Recently Added” section of Windows’ Media Player.

Now, when I want to reward one of my children, I buy them a song on Amazon. “Have a song on me,” I tell the fortunate child. They usually spend half an hour or so browsing around until they find a song they like. Then we download it onto my computer, and copy it to the laptop or the kitchen computer so we can play it from anywhere. If any of the kids really like it, they’ll put it on their mp3 player.

let's start a band!

Which one of these kids is gonna grow up to be a rock star?

It hasn’t always been peaches and cream. The kids don’t all have the same tastes in music, and deciding whose playlist we listen to in the kitchen or family room has been the cause of some considerable strife in our family.

Ask me about the Strategic Music Compromise we have, dated and signed, on our bulletin board.

Still, I think when all is said and done, we’ll continue to glorify God in the music we play in our home, and (I hope) my children will not be tempted into rebellion in the area of music.

Tim

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Fireproof

Kathy and I had a hot date tonight. When we got home, she turned to me with that look in her eye. You know the look I’m talking about.

“Well sweetie,” she breathed, huskily, “… who’s paying for that?”

And people say there’s no romance in budgeting.

We went to see Fireproof at our local cinema — what a great movie! This film, created by the same church in Georgia who brought us Facing the Giants and Flywheel, was not in any way a disappointment.

Fireproof
What a great movie!

Yes, some of the dialogue was a bit stilted, and some parts of the movie were pretty predictable, but it was money well spent. We’ll definitely buy the DVD as soon as it is available. The plot moved along, and the characters were believable and likeable. I’m not going to tell you much more about it, if you haven’t seen it, because I don’t want to spoil it for you.

If you are a follower of Jesus Christ, I would encourage you to go see this movie. Don’t go to see it because you need to ‘send Hollywood a message’ about the need for decent movies for decent people (although that would be nice). Rather, you should go to see it because it will encourage you in your faith and in your marriage (if you have been blessed in that way) and it is good entertainment to boot.

Fireproof my marriage
It is certainly a chick flick, but I mean that in a good way.

If you’re not a believer in Jesus, but you’d like to know more about real faith for real people, go see this movie. It presents God’s love for you clearly, in a not-too-preachy way that is understandable and accessible.

Definitely a hot date. :)

Tim

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No Fat Doctors

While we were in Texas with Kathy’s relatives, we were careful to observe all the Traditions. We spent time each day at the pool, and covered dozens of miles in golf cart rides. We ate large quantities of Mexican food, or at least American food made up to look Mexican. We played games and read books and even made a pilgrimage to Alamo Village.

Uncle Dan and kids
Kathy’s brother and his children were often to be found behind the wheel of a golf cart.

And then there was Pico’s. An otherwise unremarkable gas station chain, Pico’s has the rare distinction to offer the world’s largest (at least in my experience) ‘Single Scoop Ice Cream’ for $1.19.

Our favorite gas station chain
Pico’s. Now the secret is out.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I’ll have to provide a picture; each ‘Single Scoop’ is really a compacted mass of ice cream requiring more than a dozen individual scoops on the part of the server.

Mint Chocolate Chip
Sarah already ate quite a bit off the top.

Kathy’s Dad and I are not very alike (he’s well-educated, urbane and handy, while I am, er, not) but we share at least one passion: neither of us can pass up a bargain. For this reason, as the last dishes were washed after dinner each evening, a quiet refrain would begin to buzz on the lips of the children:

“Pico’s. Pico’s. Pico’s.”

the menfolk
Clearly, I was standing in a low spot in the parking lot, which allowed Kathy’s brother, her Dad, and my own son to tower over me.

Grand-Dad would look up from his book with a twinkle in his eye. “Did someone say ‘Pico’s’?”

I would wander in from the porch, licking my lips. “Did someone say, ‘Pico’s’?”

And so we would drive the mile or so into ‘town’ and pile out of our minivans to stand in front of the ice cream case.

“What are your flavors today,” we’d ask. “We’ll need eleven, no, twelve ‘Single Scoops’,” we would confide to the server.

“Rosalita,” the girl at the cash register would yell, “you come serve these customers while I check the stock-room.” Rosalita had a strong arm from all that scooping.

Mint Chocolate Chip and Banana Split were two of the favorites, although Butter Pecan and Rocky Road were well-favored as well. One night (gasp!) they had nothing but Vanilla, and we all suffered with home-made brownies.

More Mint Chocolate Chip
Everybody got Mint Chocolate Chip that day … everyone, except me, that is.

We had a great time with Kathy’s brother, his children, and Kathy’s parents; but when the stories are told about this vacation, I’ll bet Pico’s will have a prominent place.

the ladies
These girls were later arrested for loitering, which really livened up the worship service.

Yesterday I attended a follow-up visit with my physician, to discuss the results of my recent physical and lab testing. Now that I’m firmly in my 40’s, I have begun to hesitantly grapple with the idea that I might not be immortal and invulnerable, no matter how many times I watched Stallone or Schwarzenegger movies as a young man.

I told my doctor about Pico’s, my eyes sparkling as a reminiscent smile wreathed my face. “I figure I gained a few pounds,” I chortled unrepentantly. (People with a double chin have an advantage when it comes to chortling, and I made the best of that competitive edge.)

“Yep. Looks like you’re up six pounds since I saw you last, less than two months ago.” My doctor didn’t seem to think it was quite so funny.

I mentally reviewed my options:

  1. Find a fat doctor
  2. Never get another physical for the rest of my (probably short) life
  3. Break into my doctor’s office (each time I have an appointment) and inflate the previous visit’s weight, so it always looks like I’m losing.
  4. Investigate my doctor for some vice and ruthlessly blackmail him into silence
  5. Attempt to intimidate my physician so that he’s afraid to bring up the subject of weight
  6. Change my lifestyle and lose some weight

Doctor’s don’t tend to be fat. Oh, you’ll find a plump one from time to time, but I’ve been cursed with skinny ones the last 10 years or so. They have to learn to live without food or sleep during their time as an intern and resident, and the habits tend to stick, from what I can tell.

Not my actual doctor
Not my actual doctor.

My doctor doesn’t seem to be the kind I could easily intimidate, and I’m not sure he has any easily exploitable vices. Kathy won’t let me avoid annual physicals, and I think it is too late to build my marriage on a pattern of lies, having been pretty forthright up to this point.

The possibilities having narrowed, my course is clear: I must find a way to falsify my weight records each time I visit. On the way out, I carefully cased the office for windows wide enough to allow ingress. It would be poetically embarrassing if I became wedged in a window while engaged in this enterprise.

In the unlikely event that this crafty scheme fails me, and just to give our readers something on which to comment, I’ll throw out this question:

What is the single best lifestyle change you have made to lose weight?

Maybe I’ll do some sit-ups while I wait for your answers.

Tim

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