(Late) Memorial Day Post

We're mighty proud of that ragged old flag.

Prouder still of the men and women who give her meaning; prouder still of those who sacrifice so much so that we can live in safety and freedom.

Don't forget about soldiers on the days when it isn't Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, or Independence Day, all right?  It wouldn't be out of line, if you see a veteran in the restaurant, to buy him breakfast--even if it's not a holiday--just Tuesday.

And pray for servicemen and women, that they come home safe--and soon.

Breanna

In These Tough Economic Times

Elinor: Imagine how much worse it must be for us--you will inherit your fortune; we cannot even earn ours.
Edward: Well, then perhaps Margaret is right.
Elinor: About what?
Edward: Perhaps piracy IS our only option.

--Sense and Sensibility
(the movie)




Apparently things are even tough in Canada these days.  Ya'll know I can't resist a pirate song.

Cheers,

Breanna

Pinching Pennies and Organizing Letters

Miss Boo and Brother were given a set of foam letters by their aunt and uncle a while ago, and while the letters have always been popular, lately Miss Boo has realized that you can sort them by color.  She's been organizing them into little piles named Purple, Blue, Red, Green, Orange, and Lello.

Meanwhile I've been transitioning Brother back to cloth diapers and re-reading my copy of The Tightwad Gazette with pencil in hand, looking for ideas on how to save.  For reasons that readers of this blog who are related to me either already know or will know shortly (Mom and Dad are bringing the news to the reunion, yo), we're going to need a new car here in the next few months.

I'm struck by how much of this stuff I know and just inexplicably stopped doing.  For instance, the price book.

A price book is a little notebook (or Excel spreadsheet) which you use to track prices in your local grocery stores.  For instance, I can buy groceries at Costco, Walmart, Albertson's, Safeway, the foofie health food store, and the dinky little local store.  Some things are much cheaper at Walmart (canned veggies); but some things are not (bread products).  Some things are cheaper at Safeway (grains), but some things are not (milk).  Some things really are cheaper at Costco (milk, cheese, and cereal) but other things REALLY are not (pasta).

The idea of a price book is that you write down who has the deals, and shop in several stores vs. one, so that you get the lowest price on everything.  Sometimes this isn't practical, but if you plan your grocery shopping for one a month or bimonthly, it's less taxing than you might think.

I know all this, but somehow stopped doing it consistently.  Time to start again.

I know that line-drying our clothes saves quite a bit of power.  Time to start again.

What is it that makes consistency so difficult?  I'm convinced it's because we are designed to be eternal but we're trapped in time, so the closest we get to eternal is to keep trying, stumbling, and trying again.

So, look around your life, figure out what you already know--and start again.

Cheers,

Breanna

May I Just Say...

...long live PBO?

Because otherwise, this is what we're stuck with.

*Shudder*

Breanna

Noah's Ark

So this weekend Grandma came and we made up the guest room bed for her, and Miss Boo wanted to sit on the bed to 1) test it and 2) be safe from the vermicious vaccuum cleaner, which she tolerates but regards with decided suspicion.

By the time I got done vaccuuming, this is what I found:

And why the "pin-pins"?  Because she was going to help me with the laundry, and she wanted to be ready.

We had Noah's Ark for a Bible story in school today, so Brother's couch (which folds out) became the ark.  Brother is one of the sons/wives presumably.  Miss Boo is Noah, because Noah gets to drive.  (Note Pony, who has to play all the animals simultaneously.)

"Mama, where's my keys?"

]

"Where... where is my keys?"  (Alas, my dear, the losing-things-in-the-purse situation only gets worse from here on out.)

"HI Mama!  I'm driving the ark!"

See this boy?  Can you tell he's got a mild sunburn?  The little stubborn man kept taking his hat off yesterday while we were planting.  I knew I should have gone inside to get the hat that you can basically staple under his chin.  See if he ever gets to run around without a hat again this summer.  (Not if I have anything to do with it.)  When you're bald, you can't afford to go hatless.

Cheers,

Breanna

Necessary Skills

First of all, I realized after I was in bed supposed to be sleeping that my note accompanying the video below could have been construed as sarcastic.  It wasn't.  I just thought the video was funny.

Secondly, we put the garden in this weekend.  I'd post pictures, except that it's raining this morning and the garden is covered up with this white Hutterite crop cover.  We'd had it on the plot earlier to warm up the ground, and when we turned it back the garden was a waving jungle of ridiculously huge dandelions and volunteer spinach that had gleefully seeded itself everywhere after my spinach bolted last year.  It had rained, and somehow that made the weeds really easy to pull, so I spent a little time on my hands and knees filling 5-gallon buckets with weeds.  Once the garden was clean, we just turned over the dirt, plopped our seeds in, laid the drip hose down, and put the cover back on.

I haven't put out my tomatoes, peppers, or bok choi yet.  They look so very tender and it can still dip below freezing at night.  I'm going to give them another week or two on my windowsill.

Thirdly, look what I found:

Elizabethan seams.

Yes, I am a sewing geek.  I also found this:

The complete text of Dillmont's Encyclopedia of Needlework.  You have to understand that Dillmont's book was written in the nineteenth century, but is STILL the veritable Bible of handwork.  It's worth looking at just for the instructions on how to do "plain sewing".

You see, having looked at the flimsy quality of my hand seaming, it had occurred to me to wonder--what did they do in the olden days, when hand seaming was all there was?  How did they make work clothes?  Or underpants?  How did they make those spectacularly heavy skirts with layers and layers of flounces?

Answer: the Elizabethan seam for uniforms/work clothes, and Therese de Dillmont's "first make a running stitch, then backstitch the seam" for everything else.  That puppy would be strong.

Note: since I figured out I was supposed to use backstitch for "load-bearing seams", my handsewn seams have become much less flimsy.

And I think that's all my news.  I will take more pictures soon, preferably of the kids romping in the (dry) garden.  If it would only stop raining for a bit this afternoon...

Cheers,

Breanna

P.S. I am aware I want the rain if I've just planted my garden.  I am being inconsistent.

OK, This is Funny

Not that my Mom does this.  She already knows I don't like fish.

(I don't!  Never really have... although salmon is ok.)



Hee hee hee.

Cheers,

Breanna

Morning Pictures

I said, "Can I take your picture?"

"No Mama.  Take a picture of the robe."

Buddy's toes.

"I'm spinnin'!"  (This is a nightie I made from a pillowcase for her.)

Buddy asleep.

Buddy wakes up slow...

...still spinning...

And yes, that IS the world's laziest dog.

Cheers,

Breanna

A Thousand Ways To Please A Husband--By Cooking

This is a little old book I found on Google books (from 1917!):

A Thousand Ways to Please a Husband With Bettina's Best Recipies

You'll note Bettina has an Emergency Shelf, which I would simply call a pantry, and that she whips a quite credible pantry meal up on her first night home.  (Although I would not put pimento in my creamed tuna.  NB: don't call it creamed tuna.  Think of it as tuna casserole without the noodles and it'll seem more appealing eaten over toast.)

Her emergency shelf contains:

6 cans pimento
6 cans tuna
6 cans salmon
6 jars "dried beef" (jerky? something much grosser?)
12 cans corn
12 cans peas
6 cans string beans
6 cans deviled ham
6 cans tomatoes
6 pints pickles
6 pints olives
6 cans condensed milk
6 boxes "sweet wafers" (cookies? crackers? something in between?)
1 lb box salted codfish (ugh, it came in boxes?)
3 pkg marshmallows
3 cans mushrooms
2 pkg macaroni

While excusing you from the pimento, dried beef, and salted codfish, I do think this Emergency Shelf illustrates two things I have been saying for a while here: 1) Through most of history people put things by for a hard day.  2) You would do well to have a nice little pantry set up.

Overall I think Bettina's list is about right--there's protien here, seasonings, and vegetables.  I would probably include some dried beans, more pasta, and less codfish; but it's wise to have some sweet things on hand to fancy up meals on a difficult day (whether it's difficult because you lost a job, are stuck in a blizzard, or just because you're beat) and it's wise to store toothsome bits that can jazz up noodles or beans (i.e., mushrooms; I opt for salsa over pimento any time, but it was 1917 and the pimento was probably spendy).  I believe I'd put some jelly, peanut butter, nutella, and flour/baking supplies on my "Emergeny Shelf", but I think in 1917 Bettina probably could imagine neither the glories of nutella nor a world where everyone didn't keep flour in the house.

It won't get you through very long, but it's a whole lot better than nothing, and will at least ensure that you don't go out to eat if you don't want to.


Cheers,

Breanna

Ever Wonder...

Yeah yeah yeah.  I'll get back to posting pictures of cute kids in a minute.

But did you ever wonder why it seems like, when someone has NO IDEA what they're talking about, that they're ever so sure that they're right, but that people who have degrees in the subject are wrong?

Apparently there's a scientific study that seems to show (see Steve?  I linked this time, and said "seems" :D) that knowledge and confidence in your own infallibility are inversely related.

In other words, if you're pretty sure that you're right and that the rest of the world is part of a "conspiracy of silence", then odds are that you are, in fact, wrong.

So, whether it's the horrible Pearls (I link so you will recognize the Face of Evil should you run across it in an otherwise-harmless-appearing Bible study somewhere) or the vaccine-hating Jenny McCarthy (you sort of have to feel sorry for her after a while), their attitude suddenly makes sense.

Remember: if someone accuses you of being immoral for disagreeing with them, it's a red flag.

Cheers,

Breanna

Best Tamales Ever!

And very easy:

Best Tamales Ever (And They Go in a Crockpot!)

The only quibble I have with the recipie is the gal writing it says that it takes two hours to wrap the tamales.  Nuh-uh.  It took me about thirty minutes.  When trying to account for this discrepancy--either I have lightning fast hands ("My hands!  They are lethal!"  10 points for the one who can get that movie reference*) or the lady who invented the recipie tried to smear the masa harina dough onto the corn husk with a spoon.  Which I tried for exactly half of one crust, before deciding it was ridiculously hard to do that way.  After that I just grabbed handfuls of the stuff and rubbed it onto the corn husk with my fingers.  Less messy than you would think, actually.

So go.  Buy a bag of corn husks in the Hispanic section next time you are at the grocery store.  (I also recommend a jar of salsa verde, becuase... yum, these were good with salsa verde.)  Prep it in the morning and then amaze your company that night!  Rub some flour on your cheek and put your wrist to your forehead like the mother in those old Rice Krispie Treats commercials, where she'd pretend it took forever to put RKT's together (really using it as an excuse to hang out in the kitchen with nobody bothering her).  Clevah.

Tamales, salsa verde, a big green salad, and if you were REALLY feeling ambitious, you could whip up some Spanish rice and black beans.  Heck, while you're in the Hispanic section, get a package of Flan mix and fancy it up even further.  ("You mean you've never had Flan?  We love Flan!"  10 more points to the person who gets this reference**)

Chicken tamales

Salsa verde

Green salad

Spanish rice

Black beans

Iced Tea for adults, lemonade for children

Flan

Black coffee

There, I just planned your next company meal for you.

Cheers,

Breanna

* We all know it will be Kenny.
**...even though I think I was the one who told her about this line.

A Week of Schedules

...Meant that I actually had quite a lot of time.  Seems contradictory, but it's easier to sit down and finish a short story (or take a guilt-free day of rest on Sunday) when you've already got your floor scrubbed.

Except for Wednesday.  On Wednesday I let the schedule slip for a bit...and things immediately went back to chaotic.

So.

May I suggest that if you are attempting, as a housewife or anybody else, to schedule your time, that you give your schedule a week of adherence before you decide it's dumb?  This is assuming, of course, that your schedule is reasonable and doesn't include things like "power wash the shingles" and "sew flounces to toddler's period Edwardian gown".  Unless that sort of thing falls under "hobbies" for you.  Me, I was happy to knit while the babies splashed in the kiddie pool yesterday.

Here is our basic daily schedule, in case anyone is curious/in my situation/looking for a model:

6:30 - Get up, change babies, get babies dressed
6:45-8:00 - Mama drinks coffee, calls Grammy, and checks the news; kiddos drink milk, and watch 1 episode of the Wonderpets
8:00-8:30  - Breakfast, a Bible story for kiddos, and Bible reading/prayer for Mama
Cleanup; begin any dinner prep (like thawing meat, starting the crockpot, etc.)
9:00 - Begin housework (I designate different tasks to different days--i.e. Monday I do laundry, Tuesdays I clean the bedrooms, etc.)
10:00 - Snack and homeschooling.  Miss Boo does her letters and numbers very competently, and believe it or not is beginning to sound out simple words like "Mat sat."
11:00 - Here we pick up the toys and books and get ready for a nap.  If Miss Boo has been kept active enough during the day, she's out by 11:30
12:00 - Lunch for Mama and Daddy; cleanup
1:00 - Lunch for Miss Boo, who is probably awake by now
2:00 - Playing outside/continuing housework/or Mama gardening
3:00 - Mama prays a Rosary while kiddos either play outside or play quietly inside
4:00 - Tidy up house, make sure dinner's going along like it should
4:30-5:00 - At some point in here the Husband arrives home, and we go outside to talk/walk around with him as he exercises the dog.
5:00 - Mama begins dinner prep; the kids play with the Husband
6:00 - Dinner, cleanup
7:00 - Jammies and toothbrushing for the kids
7:30 - Kids go to bed
8:00-9:00 - Free time for Mama and the Husband (hopefully); I write during this time
9:00 - Mama and the Husband pray a Rosary together, and then go to bed.
(Yes, we go to bed at 9:00.  You would, too, if you had to chase toddlers all day long.)


So there's inspiration for you, if you want to know how unintimidating a schedule is.  There are other sub-schedules, of course--there's different chores I do on different days of the week; there's a homeschooling schedule; there's a baking schedule.  But they fit in to any given day with remarkable ease.

One thing I much encourage is, when you're putting your schedule together, to put in prayer first.  Even if it's just five minutes morning and night, schedule it with as much seriousness as you do "start laundry" or "pay electric bill".

That said, however, I also want to point out that if you decide initially that you'll pray a whole psalm every night and then, after the kids suddenly both get a throwing-up flu or manage to poop on every piece of clothing they own, decide that you can only pray "Arise, O Lord, and make haste to help us", that's really ok too!  The important thing is whether you're praying, not necessarily that you stick to the forms you chose.

But if you have the time, don't skip the form you chose just because you're feeling (let's admit it) a bit slothful.  Forms are useful in that they force you to take your time--even if you talk really, really fast, and use the shorter Jesus Prayer (as opposed to a Hail Mary), it's hard to rush through in less than fifteen or twenty minutes.  If you use the form for Evening Prayer in the Book of Common prayer, it'll take you at least ten minutes.  If you memorize it, you can do it even as you're brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, although it's awfully sweet to kneel beside your bed with your husband.

Cheers,

Breanna

Food Budgets

First read this condescending and irritating article about eating on a foodstamp budget.  Then read Sharon Astyk's comments on same.  While she nails many of my thoughts while reading the food stamp article, I had to remember back when I used to watch the news with Dad.

I was an odd kid, I admit it; I liked watching the news when I was, say, seven.  I remember there was a story once about Poor People.  Not sure what the story was, exactly, but I felt very sorry for the poor Poor People, as defined by the federal government.

Dad casually dropped the bomb on me that to the government, we were considered poor.

This made me look sideways at the government ever afterward, for I knew I wasn't poor.  I was never hungry without the ability to fill my stomach, I had plenty of clothes and toys, and there was plenty of books, movies, and music around.  What poor?

This contentment (bless it) makes people think of "the poor" as being "those people".

My friends, "the poor" is us.  It would behoove everyone to learn from what the chefs did in the article and DON'T DO THAT.  In other words, don't accept that $20 over-budget is ok!  Don't try to produce Food Network-style meals when your family is happy with a pot of Cowboy Beans over rice.  Above all, don't believe that frugal eating is grueling, time-consuming, horrific work.  It takes education, practice, and dedication, and it can be done.

(Incidentally I'm also with Sharon Astyk on this: it's inappropriate to hold out chefs as a model for "the poor", whomever they may be.  If you haven't got a knife, how are you going to dice onions?  On the other hand, when the Husband and I were first married we made $945 a month, and of that $425 went for rent, which meant my weekly food budget was about $40.  So I know it can be done--but I got knives as wedding presents.)

The foodstamp budget in the article is $68.88 for 4.  This last week I spent $78.90 on groceries for my 4, though two are toddlers.  In some ways I find it oddly encouraging that as relatively affluent people (at least, I feel affluent) we spent, on an indulgent week, only $10 more than the stingy government allots for foodstamps.  (Indulgent in that I bought wine, and instead of making yogurt, tortillas, and rolls I bought them.)

On the other hand I have a stockpile of flour, toothpaste, toilet paper, a working oven, and a stand mixer.  But a couple of other things did occur to me:

1. If you save money on your food budget, you can use it to purchase stockpile items or pay down debt.

2. Everybody should be either saving extra cash right now or turning it into durable goods--blankets, wool sweaters, storage food, garden tools, etc.

So, with that, here are my suggestions for a frugal menu for seven days.  (Frugal in my part of the country.)

After seeing how long the post was, here's a Googledoc that makes it more streamlined.

If you're intimidated by the baking: it ain't that hard.  Espeically if you're home all day, and are already scheduling your time.

Cheers,

Breanna

P.S.  You're NOT scheduling your time, you say?  Schedules are too hard/for the OCD among us, you say?  Check out Holly's website, and her book if you can afford it.  It's a lifesaver.

As Promised

For days and days, it rained.  This is how we responded:

...mournfully announcing, "Mama it's wainin'!  It's wainin' again Mama!  It's too windy!"

At least the birds and bunnies frolicking in the pine trees outside made up for things somewhat.

I can' quite imagine being small enough that the back of a couch is a comfy place to lay down, but do it while you can, I guess.

Brother outgrew his other shoes in a scant month.  I fear the spectre of Uncle Dunkle's rapid foot growth lurks in our future.  Dang tall kids are expensive.

"Mama, I want to clip it, I want to clip it on there Mama, can YOU do it?  Can YOU clip it on?"

"Clip it on where?" I say, as I notice...

...Paddy pretending like he wasn't snuggling the stuffed wolf cub like it was his baby.  Never fear, he's still a virile, fearsome, protector dog.  Who just happens to like snuggling babies.

("Hiya, chick.")

"Clip it on the mouse house, let's build a mouse house Mama!"

(A mouse house is a blankie over a table.)

"Can Buddy come in here with me?"

Et voila, a mouse in the mouse house.

She's pleased, though a bit distracted by the camera.

*squeak, squeak, squeak...*

*SQUEAK!*

(Mice and tigers have a lot in common, I discover--claws included.)

"Hiya, chick!"  Or possibly, in a Fonzie tone, "Eyyyyyyyy!"

Cheers,

Breanna

Shedual

...as Graps would pronounce "schedule".  I've drawn up a new one for our days to follow... which sadly means me realizing how much time I spend, here and there throughout the day, on the 'puter.  Which I can sort of justify, since I get writing income that way, but not totally; so I have been forcing myself to put the compter into its predetermined slots, so I won't be sucked into the void of MS Word and forget to thaw things for supper.

May I just say, a schedule is exhausting at first, when you have to keep checking what you're supposed to be doing.  It'll get better--it always does--but Miss Boo just keeps going during the day and so I have to keep going.  And then clutch at her precious naptime to use on the computer.

I have some cute pictures of her that I'll get up later today.  At the moment I'm running out of slot!

Cheers,

Breanna

A (Mother's) Day of Rest

Behold the handmaid of the Lord

Be it done unto me according to Your Word.

I seek only to do Your Will Lord :

That I avoid all sin and selfishness,

That I love ,

That I fulfill my duties well,

That I be attentive to Your Voice.

Open my heart to Your Will for me today

And I pray the same for my family and friends.

Grant me the Grace of a willing heart and a docile spirit.

Help me to do all for love of You.

Flood my poor heart with Your Love so that I may love all the people in my life today

As You would have me love them.

Amen.

Happy Mother's Day!  Go make the mothers in your life glad, and if you happen to be a mother, put your feet up and let your heart overflow with praise.

Cheers,

Breanna

Flash! Recently Discovered Fact That Everyone Knows Shocks Scientists!

According to a new study, about 25% of women are not actively trying to become pregnant or actively trying to avoid pregnancy, but rather are "ok either way".  Scientists and doctors describe this finding as "shocking" and "challenging", because they had assumed that women who are not actively seeking pregnancy were, therefore, avoiding it.

Because, I guess, scientists and doctors never find themselves in a group of women with babies on their knees, talking.  Otherwise they would have heard the phrase "if it happens, we're ok with it, but we're not really trying right now--not until Junior is weaned".

What's shocking about this study is actually the deep disconnect between the academic and the childrearing culture that it reveals.

This just brings back flashbacks for me of that study they did in the 90s that proved (*gasp!*) that boys and girls are actually different at birth.

Can you believe it!

Cheers,

Breanna

The plant babies are coming along nicely.  This is a planter of kitchen herbs I'll be keeping inside, because three years of experimenting has proven for me that rosemary isn't supposed to grow outside unless you live in California or Italy.

Hail Mary

(We're studying the Magnificat and what Gabriel said to Mary and how we should always obey God--this is Miss Boo's interpretation--Mary has brown hair, so the dove does, too.  We talked about the symbolism but I think she was just worried that the dove needed hair most of the time.)

full of grace

(Isn't God's grace amazing?  I just realized how blessed I am today to have kids that clamor to "read" their Bibles, and a husband that prays.)

the Lord is with thee.

(Specifically, He has been healing my little 'uns this week from a frighteningly high fever/cough/ear infection.  And graciously granting the Husband and I a spiritual renewal after the mess on Sunday, almost to the level of creating a spiritual high.  It's not frequent in my life that I get those--spiritual highs, I mean--so I appreciate it.)

(A snot-nosed boy, but feeling better than he has all week.)

(We've been watching too much TV, but again, we're better than we have been all week.)

Sigh.  I wish I was a perfect mother and didn't let my children watch more than ten minutes of TV a week, even when they're sick, and got all my housework done on time every day, and kept the drawers organized.  But the fact is that if I was that mother, I would also be stark, raving crazy.

Here's to recovery!

Breanna

The Lap

Miss Boo: No!  I don't want to sit there!
Me (giving up on trying to get her to sit beside me): Where do you want to sit?
Miss Boo: I need to sit on The Lap! (squirms over onto my knees)

*a few hours later*

Miss Boo: Here Mama.  You eat it.  (shoves spoonful of her lunch toward me)
Me: Oh, no thank you.
(spoonful tips and rolls off spoon)
Miss Boo: Oh! No! It fell into The Lap!


So there you have it.  Motherhood really does erase your personhood; now I am just "The Lap."

Cheers,

Breanna

(P.S. For New Readers: If you couldn't tell I was being sarcastic about the "erase your personhood" bit, well, I don't really think motherhood is oppression, ok?  Ok.)

Not A Monk, But...

...check out this passage from The Rule of St. Benedict, founder of the Benedictine order:

Above all things let her have humility;

and if she has nothing else to give
let her give a good word in answer
for it is written,
"A good word is above the best gift" (Eccles. 18:17).
Let her have under her care
all that the Abbot has assigned to her,
but not presume to deal with what he has forbidden her.
Let her give the children their appointed allowance of food
without any arrogance or delay,
that they may not be scandalized,
mindful of the Word of God as to what he deserves
"who shall scandalize one of the little ones" (Matt 18:6).
If the community is a large one,
let helpers be given her,
that by their assistance
she may fulfill with a quiet mind the office committed to her.
The proper times should be observed
in giving the things that have to be given
and asking for the things that have to be asked for,
that no one may be troubled or vexed in the house of God.


Okay, so I switched the "hims" to "hers" and "brethren" to "children" - but you get the idea; this applies just as well to raising children as to supervising monks.  Especially if you replace "Abbot" with "Lord".

It's a nice reflection for a day like today, when, according to a sniffly Miss Boo, she is "not sick at all Mama":

The proper times should be observed in giving the things that have to be given (like baby Tyelenol) and asking for the things that have to be asked for (like patience with the fact that I'm not getting the laundry done) that no one may be troubled or vexed in the house of God (who else's house did you think this was?).

Good stuff.

Breanna

Phew.

One of my writing friends calls what follows a "word vomit".  Read it if you want to, but really I'm writing to get the stuff off my chest.  You'll notice I'm not naming any names, giving any descriptions, or in any way indicating who the people invovled may be, right?  Right.  None of them know I have a blog anyway, but I don't want to be gossiping.

So I'm a little calmer now.  I've had a chance to simmer down, and turn over the whole thing in my mind.

The sermon, in case you are curious, was about the leper that came to Christ and asked to be healed, and the Lord reached out and touched him and made him well.  (Matthew 8, the first part.)  In an odd way everything the sermon said was true, but it was astonishing how someone could take truth and use it in the wrong way.  (Like telling someone who's just been bereaved "all things work together for good".  Undoubtedly true.  Doesn't make you any less an idiot for saying it.) 

The general point of the sermon was that the leper was a "disenfranchised" member of Jewish society, but Christ didn't care, He healed him anyway.  Which is true as far as it goes, except possibly for the disenfranchised part, which smacks a little of putting 21st century concerns on 1st century people.  The application was that we are to minister the way Christ did, to people who have been disenfranchised by society.  Which also seems true on the face of it; nobody wants to be mean to underpriveleged people.

But did Christ actually tell us to minister to the disenfranchised?  My dictionary defines "disenfranchised" as meaning "hasn't got sufferage".  Which would explain why this fancy word is not actually in the Bible--NOBODY had the right to vote at the time--this is Imperial Rome we're talking about.  The answer is no, Christ did not tell us specifically to minister to the disenfranchised.  He told us to minister to the poor, widows, and orphans, and to love one another, and to love our enemies.  The disenfranchised, whomever they may be, may very well fall into one of those categories, and certainly Christianity requires that we do things that might be socially uncomfortable (like, for instance, the book of James telling us that wealth and social position shouldn't dictate rank in the church).  But it's a little silly to call a leper "disenfranchised" because he had to live outside of town and yell "unclean".  And it's a little sillier to equate someone with a physical disease to someone with a dangerous, violent addiction that has a high risk of relapse.

None of this actually applies to the situation I mentioned earlier, as nobody has a legal right to join a church, and as felons by definition give up their right to vote when they commit felonies.  (This is part of the logic of a democracy: if you are dumb enough to break a major law, you are probably not smart enough to elect lawmakers.)  To this we can apply a few simpler Scriptures: for instance, to be as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves (Matt. 10:16).  To avoid causing a brother to stumble (1 Cor. 8:13).  To avoid placing new converts in positions of responsibility (1 Tim. 3:6).  To avoid placing temptations in front of another person (Matt. 18:7).

These Scriptures alone should have given pause.  They apparently did not, and so thanks be to God! the Husband and I have had our eyes opened.  For what would have happened if we hadn't discovered this spirit in the church leadership until the time came when we needed them?

Overall there's a bizzare sense of lightness and relief.  We're almost giddy.

So praise be to God, who protects us.

Breanna

We're Done!

And I'm too angry to speak rationally or kindly at the moment, but if you were wondering how the thing with our church is turning out?

Ah, the Directed Sermon.  You know that sermon, the one preached directly at you, where the pastor looks at you with every point he makes?  I've experienced it only once before in my life, but I sat still (and held my tongue, thank you Lord) under one this morning.

And I'm done.  We're done.  We won't be going back--we said our piece, warned everyone we feel needs to be warned, and now we are leaving them to their future.

Sigh.

At least it's over.

Breanna