Last weekend we were invited to help celebrate a two-year-old’s birthday. I cannot call him Baby Rexton anymore because he is, well, two years old. More importantly, he is growing by leaps and bounds. And I’m not just talking in girth or stature. He is growing in wisdom and understanding as well, I do believe.
On average, I see this little guy about once a month. If I’m lucky, twice a month. He knows who I am when he sees me. It used to be that he would acknowledge me with a smile. A grin, actually. Now that he is talking, he calls my name. And it just melts my heart! I never had children of my own. And I haven’t regularly been around little ones when they are first learning to say words. But I have observed, and I could be wrong, but it seems that many first words are said or repeated as a question. Apple? Tractor? Truck? There’s something else I noticed when I was back home a couple of weeks ago. Something that Rexton said and did when he saw me sit at the kitchen table, in order to have an important conversation with his mom and grandma for awhile. And it’s something that has had me pondering ever since. He climbed up into the chair across from me, folded his hands, and said, “Pray?” Did he think it was suppertime? There was no food on the table. It was then that I looked down and saw that my own hands were folded as if I was ready to pray. Hmmm. He was observing too. Precious. So I began wondering … is this a normal or comfortable pose or posture for me? Do I move into this prayer posture naturally? Do I have other natural postures or poses of which I am unaware? What words and gestures are young people observing and learning from me? What practices or rituals might others observe me doing and find themselves prompted to ask their own questions? O Lord, we give you thanks for questions, insights, wisdom, understanding, and growth. In others. And in ourselves. Amen. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat
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The grandkids have gone back to Arizona. The rain has stopped, just short of forty days and forty nights. And Arapahoe and Xian are wondering why we aren’t going for our daily walks down on the prairie.
Well, remember that snow we had last Sunday? It really did a number on the tall grasses in the prairie. I’m not sure we’d be able to find the paths that their papa had mown the first week in October. But I suppose the real reason is because their mom has been fixated on getting the outside painting taken care of before the next snow comes. Or the rain starts up again. To be clear, my husband has had his projects too. Keeping the leaves picked up so they don’t kill the grass. Fixing the tire on the lawn tractor’s trailer so he could haul dirt. Leveling and relaying the brick patio at the rental. All while taking those little pills for five nights this past week. Next week will be different. I will be doing more church work and less personal work. Mr. Pat will be taking out the last of the garden. Winterizing the lawn mowers. Making sure the snowblower is ready … for the NEXT snow. And Arapahoe and Xian will get to go down to the creek and the prairie again. After the warmer, sunny weather has dried out the paths. After the exterior painting is done for another season. After we have our energy back. Walking the prairie paths is good for the soul. Arapahoe and Xian always are hunting for whatever they may find there. Perhaps I am seeking, too, but hadn’t realized it. Thank you, God, for all of the places where we find you. In our work. In our play. In our rest. Help us, O God, to know when to say when. So we can take a deep breath. And pause. And say thank you, God, for all of this. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat It is still raining. Which makes it hard to get in the field and get the crops out. Which makes it hard to do yard and garden clean up. Which makes it difficult to do a lot of things outside, actually.
Inside, it is the season of church conference reports … yes, we got ours turned in by the deadline! And, in the process of spending more time at my desk, I ran across a slip of paper … Last month we were looking at God’s created world and how we are doing at being good stewards of creation. We were invited to consider our own acts of stewardship. I came across a checklist that I chose not to use at the time, but thought it might be good for us to check out now. How are you doing in your stewardship of God’s creation?
Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat Last Saturday was Sewing Day again. I had told myself sometime during the summer that whenever I was going to Sewing Day, I would bake a pie. A labor of love, a gift of love, for those I love. But for various reasons, I did not have a pie to take with me this time.
First, Mr. Pat and I had spent an inordinate amount of time working on the rental house which, by the way, was ready for the new tenants by 5 PM on Friday. Yay! And thanks be to God! Second, I had previously made plans with Linda and Mary to go to Hello, Dolly, playing at the Lincoln Community Playhouse Friday night. Third, I was not interested in getting up early Saturday morning to bake a pie before going to Sewing Day … especially since I had gotten up at 5 AM the previous day to finish installing flooring so others could do their work after me. Instead, I declared Saturday a Non-Sewing Day. Instead of taking my sewing project to work on, I would take my pie-baking equipment, utensils, and ingredients for baking an apple pie. I don’t bake apple pies as often as I used to. Partly because apples take forever to peel, core, and slice by hand. And I’m not sure where my Pampered Chef peeler-corer-slicer is. But mostly it’s because it always seems that I’m short on baking time before I need to do the next thing. But Joe had given me some apples from his trees. So it was decided. I would bake an apple pie while the others worked on their projects. Or so I thought. Instead, I had helpers! Rexton, soon to be two-years-old, was my first helper. Spying one of his favorite fruits, he was right there beside me at the sink. Helping. Telling me all the words he’s been learning. “Apple!” “Please?” And “thank you” with a precious grin. Sometimes the end piece of a quartered apple is “just too small” to go into the pie, don’t you agree? Both of my aunts helped too … Audrey with the first 5 cups, and Wanda once we realized we needed 1 more cup. It was a great Non-Sewing Day. And it might have been the best apple pie ever. Because of all of the givers and laborers of love, of course. Grace and peace … --Pastor Pat |
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