Archive | March, 2013

The Giant Mechanical Man and broken teeth.

30 Mar

Have you heard of The Giant Mechanical Man?  It’s a movie.  A delightful one.  It streams on Netflix if that helps you out, and is one my sister would definitely characterize as a Lindsay movie.  [Read: Indie-ish, odd, not mainstream.]

 

In the movie – in addition to a whole lot of other stuff happening with silver face paint and scenes at a zoo [I’m totally selling it, right? <sarcasm>] – two of the main characters have the same dream.  A dream about their teeth falling out.

I saw this movie weeks ago when Paige & Karen & I had a sleepover at the ROG B&B but it kept replaying in my mind this week again as my own teeth began falling out.  … say what?

Okay.  Not multiple teeth and not even a whole tooth.  It was Maundy Thursday and I had just gone to get the mail from the mailbox.  I was chewing gum.  La di da.  Sorting mail.  Blowing bubbles.  Opening letters.  Chomp, chomp, cho –

There is suddenly something very hard in my gum.  Upon further investigation, it’s a part of a tooth and it’s disgusting.  [Luckily, it doesn’t hurt.  A corner of a molar.  I have an appointment next week to get it checked out.]  Last year on Maundy Thursday, my heel broke during worship.  This year, apparently, it’s my teeth.  Should we cast lots for what breaks next year?  Maybe an arm or a leg?

Friday Favorites: Yellow

29 Mar

I sit here, drinking my coffee.  Not yet showered or ready for the noon Good Friday service of which I am a part.  I sit here, envious of my sister and cousins and aunt and uncle who are in Chicago for the day.  I wish I was there with them.  I sit here, ready for an empty tomb.  I’ll be heading home to WI after our two Easter services for the briefest of brief visits.  Sometimes being a grown-up isn’t that much fun at all.

I sit here, preparing myself to share with you the most favorite things I’ve come across this week.  With the full moon that popped in the night sky and the sun that has begun to shine once again, you’ll sense a theme.  Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Classic lemon tart.  This sounds beyond delicious and quite simple, actually.

Cap’n Crunch is yellow.  Ever thought about coating French toast with it?  Crunchy French toast with Cap’n Crunch coating.  I’m so serious.  Will someone please come sleepover at my house so we can try it?  Pleeease?  [I’m a closet Cap’n Crunch lover.  Growing up we had two kinds of cereal in our house: rice crispies and corn flakes.  But if I ever was over at someone’s house with Cap’n Crunch, oh boy.]

Maybe yellow will be the color of my kayak.  My friend, Sara, and I are officially registered for an overnight kayak trip in the Apostle Islands this summer.  We are so super excited!  Now I need to buy a sleeping bag … and rain gear … maybe a tent …

How cute is the DIY dog bed?  It would need to be a pretty large one for Mabel, the giant yellow lab, but it’s still a super cute idea.

Last but not least – it’s not overly yellow but it goes with the weekend.  Happy Easter, friends.

Connections.

27 Mar

This post begins with the connection between Rachel Held Evans and Henri Nouwen.

That sentence might make you say who?  Rachel Held Evans is the theologian and author of the book I quoted just a while ago on the blog.  Henri Nouwen was a theologian and priest; an author of many, many books, one of which I too just quoted a bit ago here.  I follow Rachel on twitter and read her blog.  I have more than a couple Nouwen books on my shelves and I pull them out from time to time; I find them full of enriching nuggets of faith and comfort.

This week, these two separate worlds collided in a super meaningful way.  I clicked on a tweet from Rachel with a link to her recent blog post; she’s been facilitating a discussion on gay marriage on her blog and using two separate books to guide the conversation. Both books are by gay men of faith but while one has chosen celibacy, the other believes a relationship with another man could be blessed by God.  [Curious more?  Here is the post of which I speak.]

Here is where my mind was blown: one of the books Rachel uses speaks of dear Mr. Nouwen at length.  I did not know that Nouwen was gay; heck, I didn’t even know that he was a priest before I began to eavesdrop on this conversation.  I knew that I loved his writing and that was about it.  But now, as it turns out, I love it more because I can relate to the places from which it comes.

Henri Nouwen was lonely.  He wrestled intensely with loneliness, persistent cravings for affection and attention, immobilizing fears of rejection, and a restless desire to find a home where he could feel safe and cared for. [p. 87]  To quote Rachel who quotes the book which quotes Philip Yancey –

Nouwen, who later in life confessed that he had known since he was six years old that he was attracted to members of his own sex, would, in lectures and books, “speak of the strength he gained from living in community, then drive to a friend’s house, wake him up at two in the morning, and, sobbing, ask to be held.”

Now granted, I am fully aware that I am not a celibate gay priest [really?  really.], nor am I in the least  marginalized because of my sexual orientation, but gosh, to some degree, I can relate to that.

I have begun the very healthy and wise practice of seeing a counselor.  We’ve only met twice but I can see why people do this.  It will be fruitful.  Just this last time we met, I was talking about something or other and her response to me was, It sounds like you’re lonely.  Bingo.

I’m still not super sure what to do about that besides – for some insane reason – choosing to be super vulnerable with the world and spill it on the blog.  [As if you didn’t already know.]  Knowing what I do about Henri Nouwen and as I google search and order his biography to learn more, I find myself drawn to his writing in deeper ways.  There are perhaps some other life changes looming on my horizon, too. I realize that I need to facilitate the move from being lonely; I think I’m working on it.  We’ll see where life takes me; hopefully in the direction of community, new friends, and a world of less lonely.

Coffee with ladies and egg crafts.

26 Mar

After a busy Sunday morning of palm waving, hosanna singing, and personal care kit assembling, I went to the local care center to lead a worship service.  I gave them palms and then had coffee with a couple of ladies.  They fought and interrupted each other often.  [In the middle of one woman telling me about her great-granddaughter the other woman asked her loudly, “Are you going to get cremated?”]  It made me very uncomfortable.

Sunday night we [you know – we] gathered in our usual place at our usual time.  I was even early enough to read a story to a cute little almost-one year old before he went to bed.  We [you know – we] ate supper and then dove into egg crafts.  We had traditional dying on one end of the table [after we figured out what colors the pesky little tablets were] and filling hollow eggs with candy at the other.  It was egg-citing, egg-cellent, and an all around egg-ceptional time.

DSCN0302

 

game night (and an updated blog).

24 Mar

Three college friends – plus a spouse, a daughter, and a boyfriend – and I planned a night together last Friday.  We met in St.Paul and had only one goal : wear crazy hats.

It’s a game we played a lot in college and also in seminary.  The Great Dalmuti is its name and it requires crazy hats.  Friday night we had a lime green cowboy hat, an Arizona Wildcats foam hat, a bear headband, a hood, and my mother’s wedding hat from 1980.  Depending upon how well you do in each round, you may get to wear a really awesome hat or you may be forced to wear a really crappy hat.  [The wedding hat was declared to be the least great of the five; sorry, mom.]

We also played a little Spot It, ate pizza, and drank hard cider.  Our next get-together is on the calendar for May; we live too close to not get together more often and wear ridiculous hats.

As an aside, you may notice the blog looks different [again].  Surprise!  It was my sermon procrastination technique for Saturday night … I hope it’s easy to navigate and pleasing to your eyes.

Hey. It’s the favorites of Friday.

22 Mar

[Hey.  It’s the favorites of Friday.]

Favorite tea: Apple cinnamon.   It’s now part of my bedtime routine.  Tea + a chapter of Pride and Prejudice.

Favorite blog post: This post is by the former pastor at my home congregation.  It resonated with me and where I’m at currently.   Worship is a contact sport.  I probably wouldn’t be a pastor if Pastor Clint hadn’t nominated me for a scholarship at seminary … before I ever said I would even go to seminary.  Funny how that worked.

Favorite craft: It’s quite nearly Easter.  I love Easter.  Loved it since I was a child.  [Fun Lindsay fact #396: I used to host “Easter parties” at the farm for my friends.  I would plan elaborate Easter games and my brothers & cousins would hide Easter eggs for us to find, usually under dead birds or with the candy switched mysteriously for dog poop.]  Sadly, I have little energy or people with whom to have Easter parties these days … but if I did, we might dye eggs in these trendy ways.

Favorite story: I visited a gentleman at the care center.  I was getting ready to leave, shook his hand, and told him I should be on my way.  Good, he said.  I was going to ask you to leave because I have to pee.  Perfect timing.

Favorite pin: A quote from Lemony Snicket.

Favorite videos: This Sunday is Palm Sunday.  Prepare yourself for Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem with these two videos.  Please.  They’re awesome.

This video was made in part by the talents [both media and harlem shaking as Jesus] by Kevin, the brother to my bestie, Sara, and a former coworker of mine from Stillwater.  We shared a basement office with no windows together.

Nothing like a little liturgical dance by Stephen Colbert. 

A meditation.

21 Mar

[A meditation.]

At any given moment, I’m in the middle of approximately five books.  It’s a blessing and a curse.  Currently, they’re all non-fiction and non-fiction books & I get along in the beginning.  But we rarely make it to the end.  I’m about half-way through all of them.  I’ll pick one up, then another, all while forgetting about the third [and forth and fifth] still sitting on the shelf.

One current read is A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans.  It’s delightful; I don’t think I’ll have trouble making it to the end of this one.  And within its digital pages on my kindle, I found an ancient meditation by St. Teresa of Avila that I love.  I should pray it each and every day.

Let nothing upset you,
Let nothing startle you.
All things pass;
God does not change.
Patience wins all it seeks.
Whoever has God lacks nothing.
God alone is enough.

God alone is enough.  Amen.

A hand offered.

19 Mar

[A hand offered.]  A gentleman offered me his hand tonight.

No, not that.

I was about to cross over the treacherous bit of parking lot that was covered with chunky ice and the deceiving is-it-water-or-ice-in-between-kinda stuff.  I was wearing dress shoes and being slightly cautious.  The gentleman I was walking with offered his hand to help me over the icy patch.

It delighted me.

Call it chivalry.  Call it an action of caring.  Call it what you will but it made me happy inside.

Perhaps it made me feel cared for.  Perhaps it helped me to feel … no.  Actually, pretty sure it is the first.  I felt cared for.

I know I have oodles of family and friends and people in my life who care for me.  Don’t get me wrong – I know that.  [Once more – I know.  And I thank you, family and friends.]  But on a day-to-day basis, I don’t often have people by my side offering a hand [or a hug or a pat on the back] to help me thru an icy patch – be it actual ice or a metaphor.  [One guess who is feeling deprived of physical touch these days.  Hugs are important, people.]

I didn’t actually take his hand.  Dumb, independent Lindsay turned down help again.  I opted for safer crossing a couple feet down the sidewalk.  If I was going down, he didn’t need to go down with me.

All the same, thank you, mister man, for your act of caring.  It was probably just second nature to you and what your momma taught you was right to do, but I appreciated it.  Enough to even write a blog post about it.  That says something.  [But not a whole lot.  QC isn’t a super high order around here.]

Friday Favorites.

15 Mar

[Friday Favorites.]

I’m into reading about food lately.  Books by chefs and cool people like that.  Current reads: The Sweet Life in Paris by my favorite Parisan food blogger and An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler.

Travel Cat on Jaunted.com travel site.  Apparently people submit photos of cats while traveling.  This particular one is by @theangryskittle, aka my older brother.

Oh, no, you didn’t.  I’m drooling at the computer.  [almond-thumbprint-cookies-with-dark-chocolate-and-sea-salt.]  These should be on my weekend to-do list.  If I had people to share it with, I would be making this for Sunday – Magic Munch for St.Patty’s.  Since we’re talking about food [always], I’ve made this recipe for sweet potato fries with avocado twice in the last week.  It’s the paprika.

If my hair is losing its curl, what does this then mean?

Source: tumblr.com via Priscilla on Pinterest

And isn’t this the truth –

Source: Uploaded by user via Kristina on Pinterest

That’s all for today, folks.  Happy weekend!

snowshoein’.

14 Mar

The sun was shining.  It felt warm[ish] outside.  I could have sat in the library and wrote the rest of my sermon but I could also do that tomorrow when the weather is icky and gross.  So today, after my noon -2 pm meeting, I chose sunshine.

The Hormel Nature Center in Austin rents snowshoes and cross country skis to use on their trails.  Luck would have it that on Thursday afternoons beginning at 3pm they are free.  I strapped on a pair of snowshoes and spent a couple hours on the trails, meeting some deer and snowman friends along the way.

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