When my daughter and grandchildren were living with me a few years ago--and I was still teaching--the weekends were the only time to do the mountain of laundry that accumulated through the week. In those days, the children were going to visit their father in Muncie every weekend. Megan was taking college courses and using the weekends to do her work. I did laundry. This was my choice. It gave me a sense of control because I would know what was clean for everyone because I was the only laundress in the house that would sort loads and follow through with hanging, folding, and putting away. It was a LOT of work, but it also helped me to feel that I had accomplished something, no matter how exhausted I was!
Then, too, I consider myself the Stain Queen of the Universe. I know all of the tricks and have all of the products that do the job...with effort. (The only stains that have vexed me to this day are the ones in my tablecloths, one of which is a crocheted piece that took me a year to make. I've done everything known to man to get rid of the stains, to no avail. Ugh!)
But, sadly, the daughter and grandchildren moved on. The only benefit of that was that my laundry burden went from 10 loads per week to three. And now, much less. What are my secrets?
1. Use towels more than once. Never washcloths. If you don't have enough washcloths to last a week, buy more!
2. Have enough underwear and socks on hand to last two weeks. I bleach mine in hot water, which means that I have graduated to white cotton "granny pants" from the sexier nylon ones that fall apart after too many bleachings. TMI.
3. Wear clothing more than once before washing. Yeah, yeah...I know that sounds gross...but unless you are a construction worker or exposed to germs or body fluids on the job, how dirty do your clothes get? How dirty are you when you put yourself into them each day? When I was a kid, we had school clothes, play clothes, and church clothes. I was not allowed to play in school clothes. Those got taken off and hung up at the end of the school day to be worn another time before washed. We have become so nasty clean that we are raising a generation of children with allergies and phobias, not to mention housewives who are fatigued in spite of the fact that we have better laundry facilities now than at any other time in America's history.
4. Hide out! If no one sees you, you don't have to be spiffed up! Well...I shouldn't go there.
I'm doing laundry today. Could you guess that??
Monday, September 21, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
Garden Blocks
In yesterday's post, I mentioned sending my man James to purchase garden blocks. It's hard to look these up online. Apparently they are called blocks for retaining walls, because that is where I found what I wanted on the Menard's website. I only had $80 on me--which is an unusually large sum for me. I had no clue how many blocks he could purchase for that, nor did I even know how many of the blocks we would need in order to edge my flower garden. The cheapest ones I found online were about $1.50 apiece. James stepped out the measurement with his feet, so he had an idea, but I wasn't sure. In any case, he went off with cash in hand in his jalopy truck.
He was gone a long time. I fell asleep as I usually do at that hour of the day. When I came to, he was here and had already lined the flower bed edges with the blocks...and had enough left over to line another small flower bed...and even line the front under the new fence! He had found the blocks for 89 cents apiece!
Please understand that in the 23 years I have owned this little house-on-a-slab, I have personally made those flower beds...and have had, in that time, at least two types of rubbery edging. The first kind required a little trench, but it all got kicked out by frost over time. The next effort was with small units of edging that had to be pounded into the ground with a rubber mallet. That didn't even last as long. Last winter's cold, along with the mower hitting it, forced it out of the ground entirely. I am no longer able to tend to the outside of the house, but I have to tell you that deciding to buy those blocks was the best decision I could have made. They sit on top of the ground. No amount of cold can dislodge them! And James's putting them down while I was asleep made it a huge surprise to me. It looks every bit as good as I'd hoped!
There is, of course, more to do. The perennial plants need a lot of attention. That and painting the trim on the bay window are on the top of my outside list...but I'm sure happy with what I have, so far!
He was gone a long time. I fell asleep as I usually do at that hour of the day. When I came to, he was here and had already lined the flower bed edges with the blocks...and had enough left over to line another small flower bed...and even line the front under the new fence! He had found the blocks for 89 cents apiece!
Please understand that in the 23 years I have owned this little house-on-a-slab, I have personally made those flower beds...and have had, in that time, at least two types of rubbery edging. The first kind required a little trench, but it all got kicked out by frost over time. The next effort was with small units of edging that had to be pounded into the ground with a rubber mallet. That didn't even last as long. Last winter's cold, along with the mower hitting it, forced it out of the ground entirely. I am no longer able to tend to the outside of the house, but I have to tell you that deciding to buy those blocks was the best decision I could have made. They sit on top of the ground. No amount of cold can dislodge them! And James's putting them down while I was asleep made it a huge surprise to me. It looks every bit as good as I'd hoped!
There is, of course, more to do. The perennial plants need a lot of attention. That and painting the trim on the bay window are on the top of my outside list...but I'm sure happy with what I have, so far!
Thursday, September 17, 2015
To Sleep...Perchance to Dream
Aye, there's the rub!
Thank you, Shakespeare!
I don't sleep well these days. At best, I get five hours. Sometimes more; sometimes less. Today, I was up at 3:00 AM. This is nothing new.
Usually, when I wake up long before an acceptable time, I force myself to stay in bed and continue to doze. Today, however, was a bit different. I was having crazy dreams that made it impossible for me to go back to sleep. As stupid as it sounds, I was dreaming that my ex-husband was trying to force his way back into my life...and other such impossibilities. My conscious brain was rejecting all that my subconscious brain was suggesting...so I woke up with no hope of going back to sleep.
All I want out of life right now is to sleep restfully all night. I guess I need a definition of what constitutes "all night"!! I long ago gave up fighting my circadian rhythm. If all my body wants by way of sleep is five hours, I guess I need to accept that...but why????
If this is part of the aging process, I don't like it, but nobody asked me!
Thank you, Shakespeare!
I don't sleep well these days. At best, I get five hours. Sometimes more; sometimes less. Today, I was up at 3:00 AM. This is nothing new.
Usually, when I wake up long before an acceptable time, I force myself to stay in bed and continue to doze. Today, however, was a bit different. I was having crazy dreams that made it impossible for me to go back to sleep. As stupid as it sounds, I was dreaming that my ex-husband was trying to force his way back into my life...and other such impossibilities. My conscious brain was rejecting all that my subconscious brain was suggesting...so I woke up with no hope of going back to sleep.
All I want out of life right now is to sleep restfully all night. I guess I need a definition of what constitutes "all night"!! I long ago gave up fighting my circadian rhythm. If all my body wants by way of sleep is five hours, I guess I need to accept that...but why????
If this is part of the aging process, I don't like it, but nobody asked me!
The New Fence
I bought my house in 1992. At that time, it had no charm on the outside, but it was home. The next year, a neighbor across the street was taking out a split-rail fence and threw the remains to the curb. I thought my house could use a split-rail fence in front, so I asked if I could have some of his throw-aways. No problem, he said, so I grabbed some posts and rails.
As the responsible little new homeowner that I wanted to be, I called the utilities for them to mark out where lines and pipes are buried in the yard so that I wouldn't dig into something in the process of installing the fence. I bought a used post-hole digger at a flea market. I was soon in the business of installing three split-rail posts with two rails apiece.
Digging the three post-holes was problematic. I hadn't figured on all of the tree roots where I was digging, but I managed. The posts needed to be buried 18" deep, based on the dirt-line of what I had salvaged, and somehow, I managed to "git 'er done". The posts were straight and sturdy. The rails needed to be trimmed to fit, which Neighbor Fred helped me with. And so it went. I planted perennials under the line of the fence and put bark mulch around them ...and it made all the difference in the world in the appearance of the front of the house! Even the former owner of this house mentioned to me that she always thought it needed "something" in front. I was happy!
That was 23 years ago. The fence was beginning to look aged and worn, with lichens growing on it. About a month ago, I was leaning on the fence talking to someone when the rail gave way and fell into the plants. A day or two later, another rail fell...and the post holding them up was wobbly. The time had come... Good-bye old fence; hello, new!
My yard helper showed up last Sunday with his brother. I sent James packing with cash in hand to purchase fencing. Before long, the remnants of the old posts were being pulled out by truck, and the new posts were being installed. The rails that only come in 10' lengths had to be trimmed to fit, but it wasn't long before I had a beautiful new cedar fence gracing the front of my yard. I love it! Now, the task at hand is to change out the perennials under the fence that have been overtaken by weeds and volunteers in the absence of my ability to maintain them. We shall see where to go with this...
James is here today. I've sent him off in search of garden blocks. Not sure how all of that will happen, but I am delighted to have the help. At least the OUTSIDE of the house will look better. We won't talk about the INSIDE right now!
As the responsible little new homeowner that I wanted to be, I called the utilities for them to mark out where lines and pipes are buried in the yard so that I wouldn't dig into something in the process of installing the fence. I bought a used post-hole digger at a flea market. I was soon in the business of installing three split-rail posts with two rails apiece.
Digging the three post-holes was problematic. I hadn't figured on all of the tree roots where I was digging, but I managed. The posts needed to be buried 18" deep, based on the dirt-line of what I had salvaged, and somehow, I managed to "git 'er done". The posts were straight and sturdy. The rails needed to be trimmed to fit, which Neighbor Fred helped me with. And so it went. I planted perennials under the line of the fence and put bark mulch around them ...and it made all the difference in the world in the appearance of the front of the house! Even the former owner of this house mentioned to me that she always thought it needed "something" in front. I was happy!
That was 23 years ago. The fence was beginning to look aged and worn, with lichens growing on it. About a month ago, I was leaning on the fence talking to someone when the rail gave way and fell into the plants. A day or two later, another rail fell...and the post holding them up was wobbly. The time had come... Good-bye old fence; hello, new!
My yard helper showed up last Sunday with his brother. I sent James packing with cash in hand to purchase fencing. Before long, the remnants of the old posts were being pulled out by truck, and the new posts were being installed. The rails that only come in 10' lengths had to be trimmed to fit, but it wasn't long before I had a beautiful new cedar fence gracing the front of my yard. I love it! Now, the task at hand is to change out the perennials under the fence that have been overtaken by weeds and volunteers in the absence of my ability to maintain them. We shall see where to go with this...
James is here today. I've sent him off in search of garden blocks. Not sure how all of that will happen, but I am delighted to have the help. At least the OUTSIDE of the house will look better. We won't talk about the INSIDE right now!
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Making Lasagna
Here is my recipe for making lasagna. If you wish to make it just like I do, be sure to follow the directions carefully.
PEGGY'S LASAGNA:
Directions:
1. Chop an onion on a cutting board. Leave the dirty cutting board and knife on the counter.
2. In a large skillet, brown a pound of hamburger. Add the onion toward the end of the process.
3. Drain off the fat by using paper towels and tongs to soak up the fat. Put the grease-soaked paper towels in the empty hamburger package and leave on top of the stove.
4. Empty a container of ricotta cheese into a mixing bowl. Add one egg and mix thoroughly. Set aside, making sure that the cheese carton remains on the counter.
5. Prepare a 9 x 13 baking pan by spooning 1/4 cup of a jar of spaghetti sauce in the bottom. Add most of the rest of the sauce to the hamburger/onion mixture in the skillet, saving just a little for the top of the lasagna layers later. Leave the spaghetti sauce jar and lid, plus the measuring cup and spoon, on the top of the stove with the greasy paper towel ensemble.
6. Place lasagna noodles in bottom of the baking pan, overlapping slightly.
7. Spread half of the ricotta cheese/egg mixture on top of noodles, leaving the spoon in the mixing bowl.
8. Spread about one-third of the hamburger/sauce mixture on top of the ricotta by spooning it out of the skillet on top of the stove to the baking pan, trying to get the baking pan as close to the skillet as you can without pushing the bottles of cleaners, pills, vinegar, and other things that are already on the counter out of the way. Be sure to slop the sauce/meat mixture on the stove, the counter, and edges of the baking pan.
9. Sprinkle grated parmesan cheese and shredded mozzarella cheese over the layer. Keep the cheese containers handy near the sink.
10. Place another layer of noodles on top of the first layer, and repeat steps 7, 8, and 9. Leave the dirty, ricotta mixing bowl on the counter. When reaching for the mozzarella cheese package, be sure to knock the spoon out of the dirty ricotta bowl onto the floor.
11. Place another layer of noodles on top, as before. Top with the remainder of the meat/sauce mixture. Sprinkle with more parmesan and cover all with mozzarella.
12. Cover the baking dish with foil, but first find the foil that is buried in the wrapping drawer under the plastic wrap. Leave both foil and plastic wrap cartons on the counter.
13. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, then uncover and cook for 10 more minutes. After baking, let the baking pan "set" for at least 10 minutes. Oh yeah...I forgot: preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
14. Enjoy!
After-cooking instructions for much later after everything has had a chance to dry hard on surfaces:
1. Get out a garbage bag. Throw away the meat packaging that contains the greasy paper towels, the spaghetti sauce jar and lid, the ricotta cheese carton and lid, the lasagna noodle box, and the mozzarella cheese package.
2. Empty the dishwasher.
3. Place the skillet, mixing bowl, measuring cups, cutting board, knife, and spreading-spoons in the sink to soak.
4. Soak the dried sauce/meat spilled on the stove and counter with 409 spray or other cleaner of your choice.
5. Rinse the pans, bowls, and utensils in the sink and place in the dishwasher.
6. Run the garbage disposer.
7. Put away the plastic wrap and aluminum foil.
8. Clean the soaked sauce mixture from stove and counter. Use cleaner with bleach if necessary.
9. This is very important: rejoice in the fact that you don't fix lasagna very often!
PEGGY'S LASAGNA:
Directions:
1. Chop an onion on a cutting board. Leave the dirty cutting board and knife on the counter.
2. In a large skillet, brown a pound of hamburger. Add the onion toward the end of the process.
3. Drain off the fat by using paper towels and tongs to soak up the fat. Put the grease-soaked paper towels in the empty hamburger package and leave on top of the stove.
4. Empty a container of ricotta cheese into a mixing bowl. Add one egg and mix thoroughly. Set aside, making sure that the cheese carton remains on the counter.
5. Prepare a 9 x 13 baking pan by spooning 1/4 cup of a jar of spaghetti sauce in the bottom. Add most of the rest of the sauce to the hamburger/onion mixture in the skillet, saving just a little for the top of the lasagna layers later. Leave the spaghetti sauce jar and lid, plus the measuring cup and spoon, on the top of the stove with the greasy paper towel ensemble.
6. Place lasagna noodles in bottom of the baking pan, overlapping slightly.
7. Spread half of the ricotta cheese/egg mixture on top of noodles, leaving the spoon in the mixing bowl.
8. Spread about one-third of the hamburger/sauce mixture on top of the ricotta by spooning it out of the skillet on top of the stove to the baking pan, trying to get the baking pan as close to the skillet as you can without pushing the bottles of cleaners, pills, vinegar, and other things that are already on the counter out of the way. Be sure to slop the sauce/meat mixture on the stove, the counter, and edges of the baking pan.
9. Sprinkle grated parmesan cheese and shredded mozzarella cheese over the layer. Keep the cheese containers handy near the sink.
10. Place another layer of noodles on top of the first layer, and repeat steps 7, 8, and 9. Leave the dirty, ricotta mixing bowl on the counter. When reaching for the mozzarella cheese package, be sure to knock the spoon out of the dirty ricotta bowl onto the floor.
11. Place another layer of noodles on top, as before. Top with the remainder of the meat/sauce mixture. Sprinkle with more parmesan and cover all with mozzarella.
12. Cover the baking dish with foil, but first find the foil that is buried in the wrapping drawer under the plastic wrap. Leave both foil and plastic wrap cartons on the counter.
13. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, then uncover and cook for 10 more minutes. After baking, let the baking pan "set" for at least 10 minutes. Oh yeah...I forgot: preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
14. Enjoy!
After-cooking instructions for much later after everything has had a chance to dry hard on surfaces:
1. Get out a garbage bag. Throw away the meat packaging that contains the greasy paper towels, the spaghetti sauce jar and lid, the ricotta cheese carton and lid, the lasagna noodle box, and the mozzarella cheese package.
2. Empty the dishwasher.
3. Place the skillet, mixing bowl, measuring cups, cutting board, knife, and spreading-spoons in the sink to soak.
4. Soak the dried sauce/meat spilled on the stove and counter with 409 spray or other cleaner of your choice.
5. Rinse the pans, bowls, and utensils in the sink and place in the dishwasher.
6. Run the garbage disposer.
7. Put away the plastic wrap and aluminum foil.
8. Clean the soaked sauce mixture from stove and counter. Use cleaner with bleach if necessary.
9. This is very important: rejoice in the fact that you don't fix lasagna very often!
Friday, September 11, 2015
An Argument for Faith
One of my favorite stories about faith was told by one of my pastors in a sermon years ago. The story goes that a man was on a mountain hike, alone, when he took a misstep and slipped over the edge of a steep cliff. The only thing that saved him from a free fall to the bottom of the canyon below was a small tree growing on the side of the rocks. He was able to grab a branch on his way down and held on. That branch, flimsy as it was, became the only thing between him and certain death. He was terrified and began to pray as he'd never prayed before: God, help me! I haven't lived the best life, but I'm not ready to die!
Suddenly, from above came a voice, clear and loud: Don't be afraid. I will take care of you. The man looked up but saw no one. He started to have a conversation with the voice.
Who are you? Where are you? I don't see you!
I am God. I can save you from your predicament. Just have faith that I will.
But I can't see you! I'm scared and don't know what to do! I don't know how long my strength can hold out!
I love you. I won't let you fall.
But...but...how do I know that? How do I know that you are real and not just a figment of my imagination? How can I be sure that you truly are God?
Simple, the voice answered. Let go of the branch.
The story ended there. The congregation sat stunned for a second or two as the meaning sank in. I'm quite certain that every listener asked him/herself, as I did, if he/she would have the faith to let go of that branch in the sheer certainty that God would provide. The story had all of the elements of real life: we find ourselves in a pickle; we know our human limitations and have no idea how to resolve the problem; we beg God to get us out of it; then we doubt Him. It's a Catch-22, of sorts. 'Tis one thing to say we believe and have faith but quite another to live it. Even Dr. Phil says, "If you're in a sinking boat, pray to God but row for the shore!" That implies that there should be a partnership with God in our lives. It is just so...so...unhuman...to give up all attempts at control. Perhaps we feel that we have more power than we really do. Or perhaps we comprehend that we are flawed and have no control at all. Whatever the circumstance, it is often true that we don't turn to faith until we get in trouble...and then we doubt if even faith can help.
If you pick the cliff story apart, it's easy to see that the man's biggest concern was fear. He was afraid of dying. He was called upon to believe in something he couldn't see and lacked hope of saving his own life. I maintain that, when we strip away all of the layers of our own existence and get down to basics, it is fear that is at the root of everything we say and do.
Almost every year that I taught literature in high school, there would be biblical references in what we read that I felt I needed to explain, along with the historical backgrounds that were the framework of society's collective mind when the classic pieces were written. (Like it or not, both American and British literature have beginnings in religious and political philosophies that modern students may not know.) Chaucer's Canterbury Tales makes so much more sense when the reader understands what a pilgrimage is and why all of the characters were making a pilgrimage to Canterbury for "the holy, blissful martyr" (Thomas a Becket) to bless them. In the course of my explanations and quoting from the Bible to explain biblical references, a student would ask, "Why do we have religion, anyway?" (This is as common as a young child asking, "Where did I come from?" Every year, classes would also ask, "Who determines what is a 'bad word?" "Why couldn't Shakespeare write in English that we can understand?") And so, armed with experience with the question, I spent about 15 minutes of one class per year giving my explanation of why we have religion.
So why do we have religion? My explanation:
Religion is the fabrication of man, and it goes back to the primitive mind--the very beginnings of human civilization--when man was trying to explain the mysteries around him--the stars, the seasons, where he came from, his reason for being, and what would happen to him after he died. Gods were created. Gods of fire, of the sun, of the earth, of fertility, of the crops and the animals. If man was humble before these gods, he thought things would go better in terms of his survival. He felt that sacrificing some of the best of what he had would keep the good gods happy and the bad gods away.
And with that, came rules. If I do everything right in order to keep the gods happy, but my neighbor messes up, that hurts all of us, so we will have rules for people to follow to keep us in good standing with whatever gods there are. What is right? What is wrong? What is expected of me in order to remain in the society of my tribe/family/community, etc? Eat this. Don't eat that. Taboos were established and punishments for breaking them established, as well. Rewards for being faithful to the rules were also set up...and one of those came by way of thwarting man's biggest fear: death.
Then, somewhere out of the mish-mash of cultural myths about the creation of man and the universe ("Where did I come from?") came the Jewish tradition of one God above all, complete with Moses and the Ten Commandments. God was to be praised and obeyed--and feared. Mess up and He will smite you down just as surely as you will die when your time comes. What hope can there be in that? (This is usually where my classroom explanation stopped, but skip to later paragraphs.)
And then came Jesus, the self-acclaimed Son of God, the ultimate sacrifice to God to atone for all human sins. The catch? You have to believe that He can and will do it for it to work. If you believe, you will "live" after you die. Eternal life. Hope that this world isn't all we have to look forward to. According to New Testament scripture, Jesus was born of a virgin, turned water into wine, fed a huge crowd with a few loaves of bread and five fishes, walked on water, healed the sick, raised the dead, forgave sinners, and predicted his own demise. And all that we who profess to follow Him have to do is believe all of that.
And there, my friends, is where my heart and my brain separate. As a fairly intelligent human being, it pains me to ask people to believe the unbelievable...which is why I don't ask them to. I can't explain to anyone why I am a Christian...why I believe in what must seem like hokum to some...yet I am not alone. Millions believe as I do. Why? Because believing in less is devastating! Jesus preached love and forgiveness, no matter if his miracles are believable or not. Living in fear of the retribution of God is guilt-inducing (but apparently not strong enough to change the behavior of those who would do us ill). We humans know we are weak, just like children in need of parents to steer them in the right direction and protect them from bad things. Yet we rebel. If I am in charge of my own life and what happens to me, I am defeated. Better to believe in a power above my own. Better to trust in something or someone ultimately stronger than I that has a finger on the pulse of eternity. My little life means nothing otherwise.
I have a HUGE problem with people who thump their Bibles as authority for discriminating against others...and most of these are folks who claim to be Christians, as I am. I'm ashamed that they pick Old Testament rules to judge others while supposedly living in New Testament grace. It doesn't work. One of my sensibilities that is offended by this is the notion that Almighty God (note the "almighty" part) needs us to support Him. Huh? What makes any human being on the planet believe that the Creator of the Universe needs one single mortal to justify Him? What OTHER excuses do we need to behave badly in society? I'm shaking my head... The whole Kim Davis thing--the county clerk in Kentucky who was jailed for contempt of court because she refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples--leaves me cold. And the backlash isn't over. Today's American society is so polarized that we have forgotten the message of 9/11. I'm sad for all of us. It isn't anywhere close to being over.
Faith is believing in something we cannot see. Faith is believing that the sun will come up in the morning...that our parents will be there for us...that the spring will follow the winter. Faith is having hope that there is something in the world stronger than we are to dig us out of our problems...to forgive us for being mortal and stupid... to give us answers to the mysteries of life. It isn't about right or wrong.
I have a dear friend who is atheistic. He believes that when we die, we are "worm food". He might be right, but like the fellow holding onto the branch on the cliff, I don't want to find out. It gives me peace in this life to believe in something beyond my flawed human strength. What do the seniors in life have to look forward to if we believe as he does? Decline and death. Not very uplifting!
I guess I am at a crossroads here, thinking that Mahatma Ghandi spoke a truth when he said:
Suddenly, from above came a voice, clear and loud: Don't be afraid. I will take care of you. The man looked up but saw no one. He started to have a conversation with the voice.
Who are you? Where are you? I don't see you!
I am God. I can save you from your predicament. Just have faith that I will.
But I can't see you! I'm scared and don't know what to do! I don't know how long my strength can hold out!
I love you. I won't let you fall.
But...but...how do I know that? How do I know that you are real and not just a figment of my imagination? How can I be sure that you truly are God?
Simple, the voice answered. Let go of the branch.
The story ended there. The congregation sat stunned for a second or two as the meaning sank in. I'm quite certain that every listener asked him/herself, as I did, if he/she would have the faith to let go of that branch in the sheer certainty that God would provide. The story had all of the elements of real life: we find ourselves in a pickle; we know our human limitations and have no idea how to resolve the problem; we beg God to get us out of it; then we doubt Him. It's a Catch-22, of sorts. 'Tis one thing to say we believe and have faith but quite another to live it. Even Dr. Phil says, "If you're in a sinking boat, pray to God but row for the shore!" That implies that there should be a partnership with God in our lives. It is just so...so...unhuman...to give up all attempts at control. Perhaps we feel that we have more power than we really do. Or perhaps we comprehend that we are flawed and have no control at all. Whatever the circumstance, it is often true that we don't turn to faith until we get in trouble...and then we doubt if even faith can help.
If you pick the cliff story apart, it's easy to see that the man's biggest concern was fear. He was afraid of dying. He was called upon to believe in something he couldn't see and lacked hope of saving his own life. I maintain that, when we strip away all of the layers of our own existence and get down to basics, it is fear that is at the root of everything we say and do.
Almost every year that I taught literature in high school, there would be biblical references in what we read that I felt I needed to explain, along with the historical backgrounds that were the framework of society's collective mind when the classic pieces were written. (Like it or not, both American and British literature have beginnings in religious and political philosophies that modern students may not know.) Chaucer's Canterbury Tales makes so much more sense when the reader understands what a pilgrimage is and why all of the characters were making a pilgrimage to Canterbury for "the holy, blissful martyr" (Thomas a Becket) to bless them. In the course of my explanations and quoting from the Bible to explain biblical references, a student would ask, "Why do we have religion, anyway?" (This is as common as a young child asking, "Where did I come from?" Every year, classes would also ask, "Who determines what is a 'bad word?" "Why couldn't Shakespeare write in English that we can understand?") And so, armed with experience with the question, I spent about 15 minutes of one class per year giving my explanation of why we have religion.
So why do we have religion? My explanation:
Religion is the fabrication of man, and it goes back to the primitive mind--the very beginnings of human civilization--when man was trying to explain the mysteries around him--the stars, the seasons, where he came from, his reason for being, and what would happen to him after he died. Gods were created. Gods of fire, of the sun, of the earth, of fertility, of the crops and the animals. If man was humble before these gods, he thought things would go better in terms of his survival. He felt that sacrificing some of the best of what he had would keep the good gods happy and the bad gods away.
And with that, came rules. If I do everything right in order to keep the gods happy, but my neighbor messes up, that hurts all of us, so we will have rules for people to follow to keep us in good standing with whatever gods there are. What is right? What is wrong? What is expected of me in order to remain in the society of my tribe/family/community, etc? Eat this. Don't eat that. Taboos were established and punishments for breaking them established, as well. Rewards for being faithful to the rules were also set up...and one of those came by way of thwarting man's biggest fear: death.
Then, somewhere out of the mish-mash of cultural myths about the creation of man and the universe ("Where did I come from?") came the Jewish tradition of one God above all, complete with Moses and the Ten Commandments. God was to be praised and obeyed--and feared. Mess up and He will smite you down just as surely as you will die when your time comes. What hope can there be in that? (This is usually where my classroom explanation stopped, but skip to later paragraphs.)
And then came Jesus, the self-acclaimed Son of God, the ultimate sacrifice to God to atone for all human sins. The catch? You have to believe that He can and will do it for it to work. If you believe, you will "live" after you die. Eternal life. Hope that this world isn't all we have to look forward to. According to New Testament scripture, Jesus was born of a virgin, turned water into wine, fed a huge crowd with a few loaves of bread and five fishes, walked on water, healed the sick, raised the dead, forgave sinners, and predicted his own demise. And all that we who profess to follow Him have to do is believe all of that.
And there, my friends, is where my heart and my brain separate. As a fairly intelligent human being, it pains me to ask people to believe the unbelievable...which is why I don't ask them to. I can't explain to anyone why I am a Christian...why I believe in what must seem like hokum to some...yet I am not alone. Millions believe as I do. Why? Because believing in less is devastating! Jesus preached love and forgiveness, no matter if his miracles are believable or not. Living in fear of the retribution of God is guilt-inducing (but apparently not strong enough to change the behavior of those who would do us ill). We humans know we are weak, just like children in need of parents to steer them in the right direction and protect them from bad things. Yet we rebel. If I am in charge of my own life and what happens to me, I am defeated. Better to believe in a power above my own. Better to trust in something or someone ultimately stronger than I that has a finger on the pulse of eternity. My little life means nothing otherwise.
I have a HUGE problem with people who thump their Bibles as authority for discriminating against others...and most of these are folks who claim to be Christians, as I am. I'm ashamed that they pick Old Testament rules to judge others while supposedly living in New Testament grace. It doesn't work. One of my sensibilities that is offended by this is the notion that Almighty God (note the "almighty" part) needs us to support Him. Huh? What makes any human being on the planet believe that the Creator of the Universe needs one single mortal to justify Him? What OTHER excuses do we need to behave badly in society? I'm shaking my head... The whole Kim Davis thing--the county clerk in Kentucky who was jailed for contempt of court because she refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples--leaves me cold. And the backlash isn't over. Today's American society is so polarized that we have forgotten the message of 9/11. I'm sad for all of us. It isn't anywhere close to being over.
Faith is believing in something we cannot see. Faith is believing that the sun will come up in the morning...that our parents will be there for us...that the spring will follow the winter. Faith is having hope that there is something in the world stronger than we are to dig us out of our problems...to forgive us for being mortal and stupid... to give us answers to the mysteries of life. It isn't about right or wrong.
I have a dear friend who is atheistic. He believes that when we die, we are "worm food". He might be right, but like the fellow holding onto the branch on the cliff, I don't want to find out. It gives me peace in this life to believe in something beyond my flawed human strength. What do the seniors in life have to look forward to if we believe as he does? Decline and death. Not very uplifting!
I guess I am at a crossroads here, thinking that Mahatma Ghandi spoke a truth when he said:
“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” I'm trying to maintain my faith when so many things in modern society shake it. All I have ever relayed to my students and anyone else who would listen is that it is necessary in the human existence to believe in something larger than self. May everyone find something to believe in!
Friday, September 4, 2015
My Ex-Hubby Would Love This
All my life, I have hated spicy-hot foods. If something made my tongue or mouth burn, I didn't figure it was going to do much for my stomach. I never even spiced homemade foods with pepper. In fact, pepper shakers in my house went un-refilled for many years due to lack of use.
My once-husband, however, put hot sauce on everything. One time, when I was still married to Mr. Tabasco himself, I laughed uproariously inside when he put so many red pepper flakes on a pizza at Chuck E. Cheese that even HE couldn't eat it. When I cooked, I cooked to make things taste good and was sometimes offended when what I fixed wasn't good enough without adding flakes and drops and sauces. Finally, I decided that it wasn't about my cooking; it was about his tastes.
Over time, as more and more restaurants, etc., have taken on the HOT flavors, I've tried more. I'm still not crazy about things that make my mouth burn, but I've come to accept a little "tang"...a little spicy-hot...to enhance a flavor. Shrimp cocktail sauce, for example, needs to have some zing. So does salsa with chips. My fried potatoes now are always seasoned with lots of pepper. And my homemade chili is now just a little bit warmer than it used to be.
My daughter is now married to a man who puts sauces on EVERYTHING. I think it's a Russian thing, to overcome the flavors of bad meat. But there is no bad meat here. We are all learning to give up complaining about the need to dress even good foods with things that take away from original flavors. Give me a steak, cooked medium, with a little garlic and a little salt, and I'm happy! It won't be spicy-hot, but it will work for me! Still, I am more tolerant of spices now. Is that good?
My once-husband, however, put hot sauce on everything. One time, when I was still married to Mr. Tabasco himself, I laughed uproariously inside when he put so many red pepper flakes on a pizza at Chuck E. Cheese that even HE couldn't eat it. When I cooked, I cooked to make things taste good and was sometimes offended when what I fixed wasn't good enough without adding flakes and drops and sauces. Finally, I decided that it wasn't about my cooking; it was about his tastes.
Over time, as more and more restaurants, etc., have taken on the HOT flavors, I've tried more. I'm still not crazy about things that make my mouth burn, but I've come to accept a little "tang"...a little spicy-hot...to enhance a flavor. Shrimp cocktail sauce, for example, needs to have some zing. So does salsa with chips. My fried potatoes now are always seasoned with lots of pepper. And my homemade chili is now just a little bit warmer than it used to be.
My daughter is now married to a man who puts sauces on EVERYTHING. I think it's a Russian thing, to overcome the flavors of bad meat. But there is no bad meat here. We are all learning to give up complaining about the need to dress even good foods with things that take away from original flavors. Give me a steak, cooked medium, with a little garlic and a little salt, and I'm happy! It won't be spicy-hot, but it will work for me! Still, I am more tolerant of spices now. Is that good?
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