Don’t worry, it’s not what you might be thinking.  But, being that today is the first day of spring, I plan to purge my house of all the winter build-up.  Not exactly a “spring cleaning”, but I still have some of those knick-knacks sitting around since after Christmas — the snowmen and that type of thing.  Even a few angels.  I think it’s time to clear them away and de-clutter.  I used to enjoy decorating for each season/holiday.  The older I get , the more I think that it’s a waste of a lot of time and energy.  Simplify, simplify, simplify … no more time for Xanga today!

I went for an early morning walk in the park today.  A fresh coat of snow fell overnight, as you can see.  It was a beautiful morning for a walk, the air was fresh and mild, and my only company was three geese, some noisy blackbirds, a few curious squirrels and other assorted small birds (more heard than seen).  I wanted to capture  the beauty and serenity of the day, and what may be winter’s last hurrah (at least for this year!).  I invite you to walk with me and enjoy the view!

I often hear about people who are “aging gracefully”.  What exactly does that mean?  Typically, I think we tend to associate the phrase with a certain amount of passivity. Does it really mean accepting the aging process as inevitable, and ceasing to struggle against it?  In that case, my aging process has not been, in my opinion, particularly “graceful”.  In fact, I am fighting it every step of the way.  Yes, I know it is inevitable, and that the alternative to aging is not eternal youth, but death.  So I accept the fact that I am, indeed, getting older with every breath.  I do not dwell on this fact, but I cannot escape it.  Physically, the signs of aging are becoming  very obvious to me.  I’m hit by them every time I look in the mirror.  I’m not always sure I recognize the woman looking back at me.  More and more often when I look into the mirror, I see not my own image, but someone who looks much more like my older sister, or even my mother!  It’s unsettling, to say the least.  And so I do what I can to fight it.  Call me vain if you like.  I prefer the term “feisty”.  J

Surgery is not an option for me.  It’s out of my price range and I don’t think I could handle intentionally inflicting that kind of pain on myself. Apparently it is an option for a LOT of people these days, and not just celebrities.  Every time I turn on the radio or television I am bombarded with ads for botox , liposuction and other procedures designed to help you “rediscover your natural beauty”.   What?  Cosmetic surgery now creates “natural” beauty?  I am also tired of hearing how this procedure or that cream will “reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles” by some percentage – all “clinically proven”, of course.  I admit I have been sucked in by more than one clever ad campaign into trying some of these miracle over-the-counter products.  I can’t honestly say that I have ever noticed any visible change.  My dry skin is a little less dry, but that is about it.  However a lot of people must be getting very rich because of our society’s obsession with “anti-aging” products.  New ones seem to pop up every day.  Buying into this obsession is not the answer to aging for me.  I’m just helping someone else make money at my expense.  But I have to admit, the illusion of youth is a strong temptation!

The truth is, there is no fountain of youth.  Period.  There are ways to live longer and feel better, and maybe even delay some of the signs of aging for a little while.  But let’s face it – we all get older.  Here is my “prescription” for anti-aging: 

• Don’t smoke. 
• Exercise regularly. 
• Eat sensibly. 
• Don’t over-do sun exposure, and when you are out in the sun, use a good sunscreen. 
• Drink lots of water. 
• Get a good night’s sleep as often as possible. 
• Find some way to deal with the stress in your life – I do this in  a variety of ways; I sing or listen to music that I enjoy, I read, pray, meditate or write down my thoughts, I use my girlfriends as sounding boards for the “junk” in my life,  I take walks, I do something creative (like taking photographs and putting them into books).  What works for me won’t necessarily work for everyone, but everyone can & should find some constructive way to “de-stress”.
• Be nice to yourself. 
• Do something for others. 
• Floss regularly (honestly, it makes a difference!). 
• Smile. 
• Pay attention to your posture. 
• Keep your attitude positive and be open to new ideas. 

I know, I haven’t just discovered some magic formula – it’s all pretty common sense, nothing revolutionary.   But that is my arsenal.  The best thing about it is that it doesn’t require me to take out a second mortgage to pay for it!  Sure, I’ll still balk at the new lines and wrinkles and the sags and bags will continue to dismay me, but I’ll stick with my arsenal and hold old age at bay for as long as possible.  I will eventually lose the fight with the physical aging process, but I’ll fight the mental aging process as long as I possibly can.  And that, folks, is what “aging gracefully” means to me.

 It’s Friday already.  And Leap Day, at that.  Can’t say that leap day means much to me.  It is a little unusual this year because it is the 5th Friday in February.  That only happens every 28 years.

I did some shopping online yesterday.  Isaac (my 9 year old) is fascinated by the Titanic.  He has been for over a year now.  His “skills” group (reading group) is doing a Titanic unit right now, so of course he is thrilled with that.  Last night he typed a report on the computer.  He looked so grown up sitting here, using his best “keyboarding”skills.  Since he has voraciously read almost everything we could get our hands on about the Titanic over the past year, it was not a difficult thing for him to write this report.  The most difficult thing was deciding what information NOT to include.  He could have written pages, but managed to keep it to one page.  Organizing the informations was somewhat of a challenge as well.  He tends to randomly write down facts as they pop into his head, and of course this report needed some structure.  Anyway…. back to my shopping.  A few weeks ago Isaac was getting close to finishing his piano book and moving up to the next level with his piano teacher.  He is not always enthusiastic about practicing, so I told him that when he completes this level I would get a Titanic model kit for him (and Dad) to put together.  I anticipate he will pass his final lesson in the current book at his next lesson on Monday, therefore I pre-ordered the kit. 

I also got him another Titanic book,

   

He wants to put together the kit and prepare another report (possibly expanding on the text of the report he just wrote, and adding pictures, perhaps using power point) and submit it for the school’s upcoming “Character Fair” in April.  The “Character Fair” is an expansion on the old “Science Fair” concept.  Kids can submit projects on any subject and in many different formats.  The projects are organized into one of three categories; Academic Events, Visual Arts Events or Performing Arts Events.  Isaac’s project could qualify in a number of categories.  It would qualify (in the Academic Events category) as general research, historical project or computer.  It could possibly qualify in the Visual Arts category as well (because of the model), but now that I am looking at the descriptions of each category, I think it would best fit in either the Historical or Computer category.

As I was shopping along, I remembered that while helping Isaac memorize his multiplication facts recently, it occurred to me that it might be easier for him to learn them if we had an abacus.  Isaac is a hands-on, kinesthetic learner.  Because of a speech and learning disability he was diagnosed with at age two called verbal apraxia (he has pretty much overcome the speech part of it, but it still affects his learning in other subtle ways) his brain has difficulty processing things sequentially.  If he is given a visual example, or better yet, something that he can physically manipulate, he is apt to learn more quickly. 

So I decided to get him an abacus as well.

 

Of course, Amazon is very good about suggesting things to go along with items you have decided to purchase. 

One of the books they recommended looked interesting.

 

Based on what I read about the book, including this customer review, I decided to purchase it as along with the abacus. (Isaac always uses his fingers to do math anyway!)

“Fingermath is a simple and useful method for teaching kids (and adults) to understand the basics of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division by using their fingers for counting.

Instead of only being able to count to ten on your fingers, this system (derived from the abacus) uses the right thumb to represent five and the four fingers of the right hand as ones. The left thumb represents 50, and the four remaining fingers of the left hand represent tens. Thus, if all your fingers are pressed you have 50 + 40 = 90 on your left hand and 5 + 4 = 9 on your right hand, for a total of 99. (Methods for dealing with larger numbers are also presented in the book.) I’ve been working with my second-grader on this “Secret Chinese Math Game.” He *loves* it, and his teacher has been very impressed with the improvement in his math skills.

I have added a slight refinement of also representing the fingers with coins (a nickel and four pennies for the right hand, a fifty-cent piece and four dimes for the left hand. This seems to make the exercises more “concrete” for the youngster.

Like any other physical/mental skill, it takes time and practice to develop speed and accuracy. If you practice this technique for ten minutes a day with your child, I am very confident that you will see a dramatic improvement in their (and your own) understanding of math.”

So — even though my children attend public school, I consider myself a “homeschooling” parent, although not in the sense usually attributed to that term.  I am not responsible for everything my kids learn, but I can certainly be involved and find ways to reinforce and augment what they are learning.  In that sense, we are all to some degree ”homeschoolers”, because we teach in many ways, whether we are aware of it or not.  After all, a child’s first teacher is his parent, and the first classroom is the home.  (I think there is a quote that says that, I just couldn’t find it today when I was looking for it.) 

It’s an awesome responsiblity!

 

Remember last Wednesday when I talked about the services my church is having during lent?  Yesterday (that’s right, YESTERDAY!) my Pastor called and asked if I could be prepared to take the portion of the service that deals with Acts of Mercy.  He knows me pretty well and knows about some of the things I am involved in — one in particular that he was hoping I could speak about.  So guess what I did with about 1/2 my day yesterday and more than 1/2 today?  I prepared my “speech”, of course!  Actually, I am WAY more of a writer and a reader than I am a speaker, speaking is a bit outside of my comfort zone.  I was really glad that I had been dusting off my writing skills here at Xanga lately.  The rest of this post is going to be what I said (“read”?) at church tonight.

---

Did you know that every 2 seconds, someone in America needs a blood?  Or that one of every 4 people will need blood products at some time in their life?  How about this statistic – every day in the United States 38,000 pints of blood are needed to adequately serve patients.  A healthy adult can donate a pint of blood every 56 days, and although 60% of the US population is eligible to give blood, only 5% actually does so. The top 3 reasons given for not giving blood are “I am afraid of needles or blood”, “I am too busy”, or “I didn’t know my blood was needed”.  The truth is, the entire blood donation process takes only an hour from start to finish, with the actual time spent donating blood lasting only on average about 7 to 10 minutes.  Most people report very little discomfort, and the fluid volume lost by your body is replaced within 24 hours.  The number one reason people give FOR giving blood is “It is the right thing to do”.

The need for blood is great.  Currently, there is no acceptable substitute for human blood. Every day blood must be available to trauma victims, surgery patients, premature babies and patients receiving treatment for cancer or other chronic conditions, such as sickle cell disease or hemophilia, to name just a few.  You never know when you or someone you  love will need blood.  In fact, statistics tell us that 95% of us will be personally affected by the need for blood, either for ourselves or for someone very close to us.

All of my life I have been aware of the need for blood.  As a child, I remember my father being called regularly to give blood at our local hospital.  He is a WWII vet, so he has a firsthand understanding of how valuable a blood donation can be.  I donated my first pint of blood while I was a college student.  My career path eventually led me to a job at Memorial Blood Center in Minneapolis, where I worked for 5 years before becoming a fulltime mom.  There I became intimately acquainted with the need for blood and the whole blood donation process, all the way from donor, through testing, to the recipient.  While I was working there, my younger sister gave birth for the first time, and after delivery, as an unexpected complication began hemorrhaging uncontrollably.  The doctor later told her that she lost 2/3 of her total blood volume, and that without the transfusions, she likely would not have survived.  Her need for blood was immediate, and unpredictable, as is the case with many blood recipients.  If not for the generosity of strangers who took the time to give blood, I might have lost a sister, my nephew would have lost his mother within minutes of his birth, and she would not have gone on in later years to deliver two more healthy sons (apparently boys run in our family!)  A few years later, as a young mother here in town, I met another  mother, Konnie O.  I learned that she was the local chairperson for the community blood drives.  I once told her to keep me in mind if she ever needed help.  I’m not exactly sure what I had in mind when I made the offer, and after awhile I pretty much forgot about it, but Konnie didn’t!  Last summer she called me and asked if I would consider being her co-chair, in charge of donor recruitment.  After giving the request some consideration, I said yes.

As a Christian, I strive to follow Jesus’ command to “Love the Lord your God and your neighbor as yourself”.  Mercy, as defined by John Wesley, is  “every work of charity included, every thing which we give, or speak, or do, whereby our neighbour may be profited; whereby another man may receive any advantage, either in his body or soul.”  The dictionary’s definition is simpler:  An act of kindness, compassion or favor.  It is difficult for me to imagine a more personal act of mercy than the gift of life, for that is truly what a blood donation is.  Every donated unit of blood can help to save as many as three lives.  And who can better understand the gift of life through blood than those who have received the gift of eternal life, those of us who are covered by the sacrificial blood of Jesus? 

When Pastor John called me yesterday to ask if I would speak about my involvement with the blood drive, I immediately went online to start researching the pertinent facts.  Among the lists of statistics I came across, one article stood out as being different than the rest – more personal.  It was written by Dean Eller, a former mortgage banker turned blood banker.  Today he is the president  and ceo of the Central California Blood Center.  16 years ago he was a heartbroken father who had just learned that his daughter was suffering from leukemia.  Tonight I want to share with you part of his moving story.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” lamented the doctor that day in January of 1992. “It’s what we feared. A very aggressive type of leukemia. One-third of those diagnosed die within 30 days. I’m sorry.”

My wife, Claudia, and I sat in shock. Words choked within us. How could this be? Our daughter, Jenny, was an attractive high-school senior—a straight-A student!—who loved God with all her heart. As the all-star catcher on the softball team at her high school, she was being recruited by several Division I universities.

As we drove home from the doctor’s office, I asked Jenny what she thought. Without hesitation she said, “I just don’t want you and Mom to be sad … because I’m not sad. I’m a little nervous about the treatment, but I’m not sad! I know God is in control, and whatever the outcome, I know I am in His will.”

Her composure stunned me. At a time when most teenagers would be falling apart, my daughter picked me up, put me on her shoulders and carried me. For the next four years, as she fought this cancer, she showed me what courage—and life—is all about.

Within days, Jenny began chemotherapy. Because the treatment wiped out her body’s ability to make blood, she received at least two transfusions a week. Over time she would use hundreds and hundreds of pints of life-saving blood.

Not long after she was diagnosed, our local blood bank asked Jenny to attend its annual appreciation luncheon to thank the donors. Claudia and I remember that day clearly. Jenny wore a long dress, and her head was bald. She walked up to the podium and looked out at the 800 regular donors in the audience, held out her hands, and her chin began to quiver: “Thank you … for letting me live.”

Six words. The most powerful words a blood donor can hear.

For the next four years, Jenny became the official spokesperson for the Central California Blood Center. She believed God had given her life a profound purpose that went beyond school or softball or even recovering from leukemia.

She never wavered in her faith, nor did she ask God, “Why me?”

But I did.

I was at my lowest ebb during the summer of 1993, when Jenny was receiving a bone marrow transplant. The procedure takes the patient to a point where she has no immune system left, and any kind of germ could kill her.

That particular moonlit night, I rested under a big bay window in her hospital room. Jenny was asleep. Sleep was precious to her then. I was feeling lonely and vulnerable, and I began to sob softly. In that moment, I asked, Why, God? Why is this happening to her? She loves You so much. Where are You?

Then I sensed in my spirit a still, small voice saying: “Here I am, Dean. Here I am.” My eyes focused to the right of her bed. The moon coming in the window illuminated the iv pole, casting the shadow of a huge cross on the wall. “Here I am, Dean.” On the pole was a bag of blood.

In that instant, I thought of the life-giving blood that poured out of Jesus as He hung on the cross. Later I wondered about His blood type. Surely He was O-negative, the universal donor. That blood can save anyone.

Through that long night, as God comforted me, I thought about the three main components of blood—red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets—and considered how they each represent Him.

Red blood cells are like God the Father, the author of life. They bring oxygen, the breath of life, to every cell in our body. White blood cells are like God the Son, our advocate and defender. They fight against that which infects us. Platelets are like God the Holy Spirit, our healer. They are sticky cells that rush to the site when we are cut and form a clot that closes the wound and helps us heal.

I gasped, astonished to see the Trinity so clearly revealed in the blood.”

Hundreds of faithful donors kept our daughter alive and gave us almost four more years together—a gift beyond measure. Four precious years that Jenny enjoyed as she finished high school and started college, an optimistic pre-med major. Four years of celebrating birthdays, Christmases, and family outings. That’s what blood donors gave us. Not just blood, but four more years for this father to watch his daughter mature into a young woman and fall in love with a wonderful young man. Four more years of father-daughter talks into the wee hours of the morning, just the two of us.

When Jenny died on October 28, 1995, a month before her 22nd birthday, she lost her battle with leukemia, but she fulfilled her purpose in life. Just before she died, I promised her that I would carry on that work. To me, it was like receiving a spiritual transfusion. Echoing in my heart are the voices I need every hour of every day.

God’s still, small voice: “Here I am, Dean. Here I am.”

Jenny’s voice, speaking to donors: “Thank you for letting me live.”

My own voice, a whispered prayer: “Not my will, Lord, but Yours.”

Almost anything I can say after that will be a little anti-climactic, but I do need to tell you a bit about what is happening right here in our community, and even right here in our church!

The American Red Cross Blood Services North Central Region, based in St. Paul, serves more than 100 hospitals in Minnesota, western Wisconsin and eastern South Dakota. One of the 100 hospitals the Red Cross supplies blood to in Minnesota is our local Medical Center.   Our local high school, community college, Medical Center and American Legion all sponsor Red Cross blood drives in town.  Last year, local donors gave about 665 pints of blood at American Red Cross blood drives. Since each donation can help save up to three lives, our donors helped save almost 2,000 lives.

I am personally involved in helping to organize 4 of those blood drives each year.  They are held in January, March, June and September.  Two weeks from today, on March 12^th, our church will be the host site for the March blood drive.  It will be a one day event, held from 1pm until 7pm.  That means when you come here to eat soup and attend worship service, or come for confirmation or youth group or choir practice or Bible study, you will be seeing even more activity than you usually see here on a Wednesday night.  It also means that if you are at least 17 years old and you come a little early, you can personally participate in this Act of Mercy and help save a life by giving the gift of your blood.   Tonight I challenge each of you who is eligible to consider making a commitment to becoming a blood donor.  If you cannot give blood, there are plenty of other ways to become involved.  Your involvement will be an act of mercy that will literally mean life to a neighbor in need.

---

I had several people approach me after the service with offers to help.  Interestingly, almost everyone has a blood donation story to share. 

 

 

I didn’t really plan to post this today.  I thought I could get it set up and save it for later.  Oh well — can you tell I’ve been spending extra time on the computer today?

One of the pieces my chorale is singing on Sunday is titled “Five Hebrew Love Songs”, written by a brilliant young star in contemporary concert music, Eric Whitacre.  The text for the music is a collection of poems written to him by his then girlfriend (and now wife) Hila Plitman.  Hila was born and raised in Jerusalem.  In writing about this work, Mr. Whitacre says “Each of the songs captures a moment that Hila and I shared together. “Kala kalla” (which means light bride) was a pun I came up with while she was teaching me Hebrew.  The bells at the beginning of “Eyze Shelleg” are the exact pitches that awakened us each morning in Germany as they rang from a nearby cathedral.  These songs are profoundly personal for me, born out of my new love for this soprano, poet, and now my beautiful wife, Hila Pitman.”

We are singing the songs in the original Hebrew, but here is the English translation for each movement.

1.  Temuna (a picture)

A picture is engraved in my heart;

Moving between light and darkness:

A sort of silence envelopes your body,

And your hair falls upon your face just so.

 

2.  Kala kalla (light bride)

 

Light bride

She is all mine,

And lightly

She will kiss me!

 

3.  Larov (mostly)

 

“Mostly,” said the roof to the sky,

“the distance between you and I is endlessness;

But a while ago two came up here,

And only one centimeter was left between us.”

 

4.  Eyze sheleg! (What snow!)

 

What snow!

Like little dreams

Falling from the sky.

 

5. Rakut (Tenderness)

 

He was full of tenderness;

She was very hard.

And as much as she tried to stay thus,

Simply, and with no good reason,

He took her into himself,

And set her down

In the softest, softest place.

Personally, this is one of the most tender and moving pieces of music I have ever had the priviledge to sing. 

 

Did you see it, did you see it?  The eclipse, I mean.  Even though it was cold (it’s always cold here) last night (about -10, I think), our whole family (well, those of us at home anyway) bundled up and stood outside for almost 1/2 hour watching the shadow of the earth slowly and inexorably make it’s way across the face of the moon.  We watched from about 8:40 until about 9:10 PM.  I tried to get a good picture of it, but even my “fancy” (to me) new camera wasn’t sophisticated enough to get a good shot.  Perhaps if I had had a tripod….

Watching the eclipse was the perfect way to end a perfectly lovely day.  Yes, yesterday was one of the good ones, in my estimation.  Not perfect, but close.  It was a little too cold, and speaking of cold(s), I have been fighting one since Monday.  It’s not a bad cold, just some slight stuffiness and a little cough and scratchy throat.  The timing is not terrific, however, because I have a concert coming up on Sunday and I need to be in “good voice”, so to speak (or in my case, so to SING).  Concert, you are wondering?  Yes, for the past two seasons (since the fall of  ’06) I have been singing with a Chorale.  It is made up of about 50 adult singers from my hometown and other surrounding communities.  We rehearse once a week and perform a series of Christmas concerts in December, a major works concert in February (that is the one coming up) and a sort of “pops” concert series in May.  Pops may not be the most accurate term to describe the May series, but it is a more casual concert setting than the others.  Our audience is seated at tables and is served coffee (or punch) and dessert during the concert…sort of a coffee house setting.  But I am digressing from telling you about my nearly perfect day yesterday….

When I was a new Mom, 22 years ago, I was all about the kids.  For at least the first 15 years of parenting I focused almost exclusively on meeting the needs of the family — kids and hubby.  A few years ago, that began to change.  I realized that in order to continue to be an effective parent and wife, I needed to take some time to meet my own needs as well.  One of the things I have given myself  ”permission” to do is to have my hair professionally styled and colored on a regular basis.  I know to a lot of people, this seems like a waste of time and money, but for me it is an indulgence that I treat myself to because it makes me feel better about myself and when I feel better about myself I think I am better equipped to fulfill my many roles.  So yesterday, I had an appointment to have my hair done.  I love my hair appointments.  I’ve been going to the same hairdresser for 3 years now.  She and I have developed a rapport that is approaching friendship.  I hesitate to call it a true friendship, because we never see each other outside of the salon, but we share things about our families and our lives that you don’t share with a stranger.  Besides sharing good conversation with her, I also always get a great hairstyle!  I like this particular salon because I think they go a little bit beyond the usual in terms of taking care of the patrons.  I ALWAYS get a nice scalp and neck massage during my shampoo, and while I am sitting and waiting for my color to process, I get to sit in a very comfortable massage chair.  It would be a calgon moment, if they used calgon in the salon.  It is about 90 minutes of time just for myself.  I turn off my cell phone, bring along my latest read, and simply enjoy taking time for me.  I put all my other “agendas” on hold for the time I am there and give myself over to total relaxation. 

Another thing that made yesterday special was that I didn’t have to prepare supper!  During the lenten season, our church is serving soup suppers every Wednesday.  My 9th grade son (Mark) is in confirmation class this year, so he is at the church every Wednesday anyway, and on the 1st and 3rd Wednesday of each month Isaac goes to a youth program at church after school, so two of my three sons living at home were already at the church.  Grant and I drove up to church at 5:00 and met the other two boys and filled ourselves with tasty warm soup and homemade bread (at least I think it was homemade).  Yum.  After supper, there is a brief (about 45 minute) worship service.  The focus of the services during lent is Grace — one of my personally favorite theological themes.  The service opens with singing, followed by scripture reading.  The bulk of the service involves members of the congregation sharing their personal reflections on ”acts of piety and acts of mercy as a means of grace”, where acts of piety are those practices which express our love for God and acts of mercy are the practices which express our love for our neighbor.  Last night the experiences focused on worship (piety) and hospitality (mercy).  In the church I grew up in, we would have called this time of sharing a “personal testimony”, but my current church tends to shy away from such “fundamentalist” labels.  It is a personal testimony, no matter what you call it.  It’s all semantics.  The reflection time is followed by sharing of prayer requests, and a closing song.  After the worship service has ended, our weekly choir practice begins.  I have been singing in the church choir ever since we joined this church almost 24 years ago.  I have always enjoyed singing in the choir.  I grew up singing in church.  As a little girl I sang with my family for “special music”, or sometimes I sang on my own.  I recall one of my first public singing experiences was singing “Heavenly Sunshine” in church when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I sang in my church choir and my high school choir as a teenager, and continued singing in the college choir during the years when I didn’t attend church.  I’ve never NOT sung, come to think of it. Singing is invariably an uplifting event for me, whether I am in rehearsal, whether I am performing, or whether I am just humming a tune in my head while I go about some other daily task.   It simply brings joy to my soul to be able to sing.  My particular joy in singing in church choir at this point in my life is enhanced because it is something I am sharing with Mark and Grant, as they have both joined the church choir as well.  Since their voices changed and they no longer sing with the boy’s choir, they have continued to seek out opportunities to sing.  Of course they both sing in the school choir, but I was so happy that they both voluntarily joined the church choir.  I guess once the joy of singing gets in your blood, it stays there! Every Wednesday I leave choir practice with a song on my lips and one in my heart as well.  I cannot have music in my heart and be in a bad mood at the same time.

Which brings me back to the eclipse.  As I left the church last night, after a day where I had relaxed and allowed myself time to be pampered, where I was fed in body and soul, I was treated to a natural wonder of spectacular proportions.  How can one observe an eclipse and not be moved by the grandeur of the heavens?  “The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of His hands”  Psalms 19:1.  As I said — the perfect ending to a perfectly lovely day.

I came across this quote in my reading and found it to be very profound.  Have you ever experienced lonliness in the midst of a crowd?  I know I have!  In the middle of life’s hustle and bustle I am sometimes taken aback by it’s sheer superficiality.  All of the small talk about the weather and the kids and the “projects” of our lives reveal very little about our hearts.  I know it is because we have a hard time trusting that someone else will take care with our hearts — our concerns, our fears, our dreams, our sorrows, our joys — so often we hide them behind idle conversation about the trivial and insignificant.  We take care not to offend, because heaven forbid we should step on someone else’s toes, but do we take care to care?

One of the very interesting things about this particular quote is that it was written in the 1940′s.  When I first came across it, I assumed it was current, because in my mind, it is even more true today than at any other time.  I could be wrong about that.  I do think the internet has taken technology and in some instances (like Xanga and other personal blogging sites) used it to make people connections.  On the other hand, I can think of ways it has been used to create walls between people as well.  The most glaring example of this (to me) is internet pornography.  In a recent article I read on AOL concerning intimacy barriers between married couples, I read this: “Some people consider online porn to be harmless ‘supplemental sex.’ Problem is, though, it can turn into a form of virtual infidelity, where the porn-distracted spouse subverts his desire into fantasies and prevents the couple from having an emotionally complete and connected relationship. Talk it out. In person.”

In terms of helping people make real connections with each other, does the internet represent progress — or not?