Still waiting

We are still waiting to hear from our realtor if our offer has been accepted on this bank-owned home. It is soooo hard to hang in limbo! I have told my classes that if the phone rings I will be answering it because it could be our realtor. Now they are praying that we get this house, particularly since they know that we will be having them over at least one Friday night per month. We would also like to have an available bedroom/bathroom so we can host people who come here for cancer treatment at our regional medical center.

But God knows--and only He knows at this point.

I woke up with the song, "Oh Jesus I have promised" in my head. It is a bit of a dreary tune and I hope it is not a harbinger of events to come today. The gist of it is that I'll hold on no matter what comes. So today my prayer is that whatever happens regarding our house will honor God in some way. We have contingency plans if we don't get the house, but we still wait in hope. Perhaps this is what the Christian life is all about--waiting with the not-knowingness of it all.

Despitefully Used

Today I have been preparing to teach a general lesson study at church for next week. It is on the amazing love of Christ. Several incidences of His loving acts toward humans are recorded in the weekly lesson study, each that illustrates a different facet of love. I looked over the material that the associate pastor sent me that was supposed to help me put together something. But I've never been one to follow scripts and anything that makes me feel boxed in, structured according to someone else's ideas, makes me lose interest. It is important that a speaker has passion about their message, otherwise their comments feel canned. I needed something fresh that could hold my attention.

So I started casting about for information about love: what it is, where people find it, how people maintain it. Then there are all the stories of couples whose love won out against all odds: different religions, races, social strata, education, and even geographic locations. I even found a site that purports to be a Love Calculator, according to its founder, "Dr. Love." All one does is enter the names of two people who are living together, dating, or married, --that's all--just names, and up pops a prediction about how well they will manage together. I entered Sam and my names and clicked the button: we have a 10% chance of staying together. Based on what, I don't know. I entered the names of a couple who have had nothing but trouble since they got married and their chance of staying together was 54%. That removed any tiny bit of credibility the site had.

Then I began to read what Jesus said about loving our enemies and praying for those who despitefully use us. The word despitefully caught my eye. Other versions of the Bible say things like, "Pray for those who trouble you" or "persecute you." The Message Bible uses the phrase, "...someone who is giving you a hard time" and the New Century Bible says, "Pray for those who hurt you." Wycliffe: "...pray ye for them that pursue and slander you."
I keep coming back to good old King James: "Pray for those who despitefully use you." The dictionary defines despiteful as, "in a maliciously spiteful manner...full of malice."
I couldn't think of anyone who treats me that way at work. My students seem to like me, my colleagues and I get on very well, and my administrators speak highly of me. None of my friends would fall into the category of maliciously, spitefully speaking against me out of malice. So I didn't think much more about it. But my mind has nibbled around the edges of this word all day.

This afternoon, the Lord reached into my heart and squeezed. Step-parents have the potential to understand this verse in a new way. Any time a new party joins any family, there are ripples: sometimes the kind that makes one feel relaxed and happy, and sometimes the kind that threatens to sink your boat.

Jesus doesn't say just to pray for those who despitefully use us--whether it happens out of ignorance, willfulness, or oversight. He points out that this is a Kingdom of Heaven quality. Those who follow Jesus step by step are good to the "good" and the bad, those who support them and also those who dash them to pieces. Because this is how our perfect Father in Heaven treats people. He loves us when we are obnoxious, debauched, stupid. There is nothing that we do that can separate us from Him. Yet He does not leave us or stop loving us. So being perfect as He is means holding up in prayer those who misunderstand or hurt us.

Once when I was a therapist trainee, still in school and starting to wrestle with all of the stuff of being a therapist, a social worker said something that helped me understand the road ahead of me in my discipline. We were both working in a county mental health department and saw people with persistent, chronic mental illnesses. They were pretty much on medications for life and would be debilitated and unable to function without therapy plus meds. Reflecting on a very obnoxious patient who had fussed in the waiting room because the social worker wasn't waiting at the door for him when he arrived, she said, "This is why this man is my client. This is why he needs therapy. This behavior goes with the territory. Do you expect to always be treated kindly, respectfully, cheerfully? Then go into another field. We're here to help these kinds of people who turn off everyone else. If we can help them, they won't be isolated because of their own behavior, and they'll have a better chance at making a more satisfying life for themselves. They will even try to hurt us sometimes. But this is how they get better--test the limits, learn skills, challenge you, become introspective. And you are the tool whereby this happens." This man's behavior merited her attention, it didn't exclude him. What a challenge this presented for me!

This is not to say that bad behavior or people who hurt you shouldn't have limits set on them. Saying a strong "No farther for you!" is a loving thing sometimes. Love does not mean you should lie down and become a doormat for anyone who would walk over you. It means being able to live with the hurt, troubling, malice, and slander after you set the necessary limits and making changes to enhance your own mental wellbeing. But people do what they do because they are hurt, scared, damaged or threatened in some way. Some people yell and act aggressively because being loud and mean is easier on their feelings in the short term than allowing themselves to feel pain, fear, or blame. Such behavior merits the prayer. It doesn't exclude them. Being the target of this behavior calls for staying power. Perhaps that comes from being connected to the One who is able to see the end from the beginning. From knowing that God will make it all right one day.

There is something in this for me. I have miles to go before I can be considered perfect as my Father in Heaven is. I am painfully aware of my failings to be gracious and kind-hearted when faced with personalities that push all my buttons. For now, I focus on the things that I can change and set limits on, and I pray. A lot. All the time. If I am only kind to those who are always nice to me, how good is that? I pray that I may continue to reach out to those who hurt me with an open heart and with care, be available to them in whatever way is possible. And trust God to bring conviction to me out of left field--like He did today.

Speaking in Tongues

Found here

Mother visited a church yesterday because it was medical and dental school graduation weekend, which mean barely controlled mayhem at the church. So she went off to the Indonesian congregation because they were to have a special choir give a concert for the main service. She was excited to go to a new place.

I had some reservations but didn't want to discourage her from branching out and trying new things. I told her that I thought perhaps the singing group would use microphones and it would be quite loud. Since she has a hearing problem and has difficulty understanding accented speech, would she really want to go there? She was undeterred. "George will pick us up and take us home at 1:00 after we've had lunch at the church potluck." She was quite eager to hear the choir and then try Indonesian food.


So at the appointed hour she, Evelyn and Molly boarded the Villa van and off they went to the Indonesian church. They were greeted warmly at the door and invited to attend the English class in the back of the sanctuary. Problem was, Mother couldn't tell if it was English or not--it was so difficult to understand the speaker. But as she said, "I caught a word here and there so I knew what they were talking about, more or less. What I was really interested in was hearing the choir."


When it was time for church, they moved closer to the front of the sanctuary and sat off to the side.

"Gibberish, it was all gibberish!" she later told me last night. She couldn't understand the extemporaneous comments from the pulpit that preceded the sermon. "I looked at Evelyn and asked if she could understand and she couldn't, either." And the choir only sang two songs--and yes, every member had a microphone. "It was blazing loud!" she cackled last night. "I covered one ear and turned my head so I didn't go completely deaf. I didn't want to be offensive, but it was so loud!"


Mother was in hysterics as she explained what happened after the singing. Apparently, the pastor spoke in his native language and used an interpreter whose accent was so thick that the message was almost incomprehensible. So the three visitors sat there, befuddled, for the entire time. Even louder than the choir, the pastor held the microphone right up to his mouth and shouted into it. Shouted. I know the kind of preaching this is for I've seen many foreign born pastors do this. It must fall under the category of "exhorting" that so many old school and foreign pastors adhere to. Mother was completely exhorted by the end of it, which she said, never really came. But she slipped out at 1:00. "He was screaming at us that we need to pray and read our Bibles and he scared the bejeepers out of us with all that shouting. And as if it wasn't enough to have him shout all that gibberish at us, his sidekick would then yell it all in English, so-called, full tilt!" Mother wheezed off into laughter at that point, remembering how shocked she had been. "I didn't dare look at Evelyn because we would have forgotten ourselves right there. That guy went on and on--I didn't know there was so much that we were doing wrong that needed to be corrected. He kept finding things to tell us off about and could have gone until supper if people stayed there to listen!"


George was to pick them up at 1:00 after the potluck. So they slipped out at 1:00. Two deacons intercepted them at the back door. "The potluck! You have to eat. Stay and we will take you back to the Villa."


Mother then uttered one of her famous Motherisms: "I don't care if I never eat, I won't go back into that place!" The three muskateers got into the Villa van and went back home. On the way, the three of them shared their experience while at the church. All of them had been shocked by the volume, couldn't understand what was said, and were disappointed that the entire service wasn't the choir. The man who had invited them told them it would be all choral. So much for truth in advertising.


There were two good things about this adventure that really warmed my heart, as a daughter who has been holding my breath about Mother's wellbeing: first, she got out and did something different--took a risk, was excited about going off on an adventure with her friends. Second, I have seldom heard Mother laugh so hard as she did last night when she was telling me about this. She was absolutely hysterical, repeating the funny moments, describing her internal reactions, and telling me about the church itself. She had to keep putting down the phone because she couldn't stop laughing. She was not politically correct in her opinions and observations, but she was the most energized I have seen her since my father died. Our conversation was probably about 40 minutes and she laughed the whole time.


So life moves on. Mother has a new story that she participated in with her friends, and in a new place. She, Evelyn, and Molly now have new inside comments ("Wanna go over to the Indonesian church next week? I hear they have a choir going to sing there...")

Interesting, what things make for a happy day.

Miserable

Found here

Did you ever try not to stare at someone's teeth, when those teeth were just terrible? Take these dogs, for example...
Well, Friday I took Mother to the drugstore to pick up her eye drops. We went into a couple shops and browsed around some sale items (I got a marvelous $89 dress for $13.65!). When we were finished it was too late for her to get dinner at the Villa so I invited her to join Sam and me for supper. I'd picked up a couple grilled chickens and asked Mother if she'd make a salad since she likes doing that.

We sat down at the table and Sam said grace. Mother turned to me and gave me a full-on toothy grin. Only right in the front center, a tooth was completely gone. I was shocked! Apparently she bit down on a piece of carrot and her tooth just crumbled down to nothing. It had disintegrated. Now she looked like toothless Annie. After my gasps and then howls subsided, we tried to figure out what to do. This would happen on a holiday weekend when her dentist is out of town. She will have to wait until Tuesday when he is back. Fortunately she doesn't have any discomfort in the socket. But she looks shocking.

We watched a Laurel and Hardy video clip and she laughed her head off. Of course, every time she laughed, she became self conscious and covered her mouth. "What am I going to do at the Villa?" was her question. "Wait until Evelyn (her friend) sees this! What will everyone say?"

As I dropped her off in front of the Villa, I told her that if she would just stop looking in the mirror and showing all her teeth in a big toothy grin, people would be less likely to notice.
"Can you talk with your lip down over your teeth?"
"Mmpehr fwpco bwoeir... No...Maybe if I put my head down."
She tried again.
"Mother, you sound like you've had a stroke. Don't do that."
She cracked up.
And like a trooper, she climbed chuckling out of the car and went inside. I don't think she'll be very talkative with too many people this weekend. Bless her heart.

Extreme Weather

This is what touched down about 15 miles from our home. It grew very dark today and suddenly the heavens opened. It poured down rain. That's extremely unusual for Southern California in late May. It typically rains from December to early March and that's it for the entire year.

We had such strong winds that this train blew off the railroad tracks about five miles from where the tornado touched down. We're talking strong winds here.

Meanwhile, it hailed across the Los Angeles area. Kids in East L.A. were out having snowball fights using their mother's dishwashing gloves because they didn't have any mittens. Kids in Southern California aren't used to snow unless they live in Big Bear. And it snowed up there for about six hours today.

After we rushed into the house and got settled in, there was an utter downpour. As we looked out the front window, we noticed that water about a foot deep was rushing down the street, filling it from curb to curb. Sam changed into his shorts and flip flops and said, "I need to go out and get the trash barrels and bring them in." Today is trash day and they were out at the curb. However, the water was now coming up over the curb and beginning to creep up the driveway. He stepped out the door with an umbrella just in time to see our large recycle barrel floating down the street toward the main drag. So out into the drink he went, water half-way up his leg. The flip-flops and umbrella got left behind and after wrestling the barrel (which was full of water and very unwieldy), he came wading back into the yard with barrel in tow.

The downpour just stopped. Sam is dozing off in his chair, watching the game through tired little slits of eyes. I'm trying not to do work at home, so between surfing the web and answering phone calls, I'm pretty laid back. The air coming in the windows is cool and crisp--and very wet-clean smelling. We are thankful to be safe and that our house didn't float away or lift off in the storm. What a perfect night for open-window sleeping, after the storm.

More Information

Found here

Today's conversation with our realtor revealed that another party has made an offer on "our" house. We will not have a response until Tuesday at the earliest. There is plenty of time for other people to make offers higher than ours. Maybe our downpayment and financial status will be better than our competitors.

The ride continues.

House Update

Ok. Today I heard from our realtor: we're the only one who put an offer on this house. I think that's good. One wonders if the reason this house has been on the market for 64 days now is because people are put off because the kitchen appliances have been removed. Or if people have been making offers on the house only to have the bank (owner) counter-offer with a figure that is unrealistic. So we are continuing to pray that the right thing will happen.
Told you this would be a roller coaster...

Second Chance

When Sam and I first started looking at homes with our realtor, she took us to see this home right away. It was about $29,000 more than our top dollar but she wanted us to see it at least because it's only six years old. I liked it right away. Sam walked in, took a look at the kitchen and said, "Nope." And he took an instant dislike to the carpet. Yes, the previous owners took out the stove, microwave and dishwasher. But it was going quite a bit lower than other homes in the neighborhood so I was very disappointed. It was the last home we saw that first day and it left me in a funk. However, from previous experience I realized that if God wants us to have a particular place, either He will influence BOTH of us to like it, or will give us an aversion to it.
Well, almost a month later we looked at it again. Sam remembered that we'd seen it before but I didn't. When we drove into the driveway, we both loved the neighborhood right away. It is very, very quiet. The front of the house looks out into a cul de sac and beyond that, beautiful hills. The back of the house overlooks the valley. It's up on a rise, so looking out the back wrought iron fence, you can see homes and backyards below. But no one can look into "our" yard.
Our yard. Yes, we loved the house. Perhaps it was that we were well rested, had enough food in our systems to prevent blood sugar drops and illogical thinking. Perhaps it was because we also have seen a number of other properties for the same list price that are not nearly as nice. And perhaps we liked it because it has everything we want: views out every window, a perpetual breeze up on the rise, a very workable kitchen with a pantry, a fireplace, and even a lovely little covered balcony off the master bedroom retreat. Since the front of the house is a north exposure, it doesn't have direct sunlight--which means I would have a place down near the entryway to plant Nana's hosta lillies (which I've been carrying from New York to Indiana, to Washington, to this place). The home is about a 15-minute drive east of our jobs and not as far east as we have actually looked, which is where the last home was that we put an offer on.

So we decided that we'd put an offer on this house. Sitting in the realtor's office, we found out that the price has dropped $20,000 three days ago--perfect! We also noted that the house's buying price (before it went into foreclosure) was $70,000 more. Therefore, the house is going for an excellent price. It has been on the market for 62 days, which means that people are probably intimidated by the absence of the kitchen appliances.

Tomorrow morning first thing, our realtor will speak to the agent for the property and find out if there are any other offers on the home. We will offer accordingly. Please say a prayer for us. We are excited at the possibility of owning this lovely, quiet place.

Questions

A friend emailed me this. Rather than email her back to the requisite number of people, I thought I'd answer the questions here--for those with a burning desire to know more about me:

1. What time did you get up this morning? 5:45am
2. Diamonds or pearls? pearls
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? can't remember
4. What is your favorite TV show? House Hunters
5. What did you have for breakfast? Flax Plus with Silk, and a pear.
6. What is your middle name? Ann
7. What food do you dislike? raisins and figs
8. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Bach Double Violin Concerto
9. What kind of car do you drive? Toyota Corolla
10. Favorite sandwich? Lettuce, tomato and cheese
11. What characteristic do you despise? Laziness
12. Favorite item of clothing - pajamas
13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Puerto Rico
14. Favorite brand of clothing? Jones New York
15. Where would you retire to? Upstate New York or New England
16. What was your most recent memorable birthday? I haven't had a memorable birthday for years
17. Favorite sport to watch? I avoid watching sports at all costs
18. What is the furthest place this list will go? Alaska
19. When is your birthday? March 16
20. If you are married, where did you meet your spouse? On a Christian website
21. Are you a morning person or a Night person? Both
22. What is your shoe size? 9.5
23. Pets? Otis Melotis (cat)
24. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? I get to write all summer and not teach (YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
25. What did you want to be when you were little? A surgeon or a midwife
26. How are you today? Really tired at the end of the week.
27. What is your favorite candy? Chocolate with hazelnuts in it
28. What is your favorite flower? Ranunculus or Iceland poppies
29. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? June 14--graduation and the school year will be over!
30. What are you listening to right now? The AC (it was 100 today and even tonight at 9:30, it's 81 degrees.
31. What was the last thing you ate? A vegetarian patty (want the recipe? They're terrific)
32. Do you ever wish on stars? no
33. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Cranberry
34. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Carla
35. Last drink you had: Water
36. Favorite restaurant? Napoli's
37. Hair color? Chestnut brown with gray here and there
38. Eye color? Chestnut brown
39. Weight? In your dreams
40. What is your favorite outfit? My wedding dress (plum colored dress with jacket)
41. What was your favorite toy as a child? A large, stuffed lion with a shaggy mane
42. Summer or winter? Winter
43. Hugs or kisses? Hugs
44. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate
45. Coffee or tea? tea
46. When was the last time you cried? Last week after coming home from an utterly wretched conference
47. What is under your bed? Some afghans and quilts in storage packages
48. What was the last thing you laughed hard about? Teasing Sam
49. What did you do last night? Saw a client at the office, watched TV and looked at houses for sale on the internet
50. What is your favorite thing to read? Therapy books
51. What are you afraid of? The thought of being in a men's prison for any reason
52. Salty or sweet? sweet
53. How many keys on your key ring? (Which one?) 2 and 11
54. How many years at your current job? almost 2
55. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
56. How many towns have you lived in? 12 I think
57. Do you make friends easily? Yes
58. What is your favorite room in the house? The livingroom
59. Who did you last pray for? Our former mayor, who died in the last day
60. How many people will you tag to write their own questions? Whoever wants to do this.
Copy and paste, then send it to me on my email.

Why does this generation want to smell like over-ripe fruit? It seems that pleasant perfume aromas in our parent's generation were things like Tuberose, Lilly of the Valley or White Shoulders. My sister's generation felt that these smells are dated. They liked things that were very strong and that preferably covered the smell of marijuana: patchouli, vanilla, incense, Musk. Those kinds of things have always made me feel nausated.

So my generation has wanted scents that are bit more understated and faintly floral: Jojoba, or Fresh Linen--maybe light lavender/mint or something very mild.

Fast forward to today's generation. Walk into any Bath and Body or Victoria's Secret store and pflam! Right in the face: burnt vanilla-almond, peach, mango-pineapple. It's loud and obvious without any way to be unobtrusive. You can typically smell today's youth before you see them. Apricot-honey-mustard or melon duet. Hug a young person and you will get a nose full of citrus-loquat or something called Ocean that can lift you right off your feet. Why do they want to smell like rancid fruit? Why such strong smells?

What I can't help noticing is that today's kids also cannot tolerate any "normal" or average scents: a house needs to have a scented (strong, nauseating) apricot smell on a whirring plug-in. The bathroom has not only sprays, but a couple scented candles. Of course the shower is loaded with a variety of very strong scented shampoos, soaps, facial scrubs, and conditioner. The bedroom needs to have a candle in it. Even the car has to have some scented dangly thing on the mirror, or a little can of stinky "goodsmell" hidden somewhere. It is torture to those of us who have very sensitive sniffers.

What will the next generation want to smell like? Imagine your grandchild or great-grandchild breezing through your livingroom smelling like tomato-tripe or pumpkin-shallot, or durian-cream-pulp? Make way for the rosemary-lavender-garlic immersed young person, smiling with satisfaction at their almost visible olfactory aura.



Don't misunderstand me: I like a faint scent that is very understated. But it makes me almost ill with nausea and headache to (for example) be sitting in church and have a string of young adult women come in late, sit in front of me, and with their every move, a thick cloud of vaporous air wafts back toward me--and my insides begin to church.

I'm pleased the girls are in church and ultimately that idea holds off any critical comment I may be formulating in my head. But on the inside, I am not reverent or quiet. I am saying things like, "Oh please....what scent are you trying to cover up with that?!" "I think the deacon at the back can smell you. No, probably the guy on the motorcycle flying past the church on the street." It's not good. But I feel so ill that I can hardly hold down my breakfast at times like that.

So I wonder what the future of Sweet Scent America will be. We'll be sniffing.