In transition?

N.T. Wright says Christians are in exile, in a place we currently find uncomfortable, confusing, and sometimes oppressive.

Frank Viola says we’re in transition. I’ve followed Frank off and on since he was deep in the organic church movement. He’s written some books that rocked my boat, including Pagan Christianity, Reimagining Church, and Insurgence.

Frank speaks to those Christians who suspect “there’s got to be more than this.”

I think it’s very important to read widely and think deeply. We might (huh, we will) find ourselves challenged when we do that but, if we only stay in our small bubble of thinking, we miss much. Read much and be discerning.

But I digress. I wanted to introduce you to Frank’s blog and especially his post on transitions. He has practical advice for Jesus followers.

I hope you’ll take a look.  Here’s his blog post: 5 Things To Do When in Transition

And here’s a list of his books: Books by Frank Viola

 

Recovering from Grief

Let me tell you a little bit about one project that I have been working on since March. I was asked to write a chapter for “Death, Where is Your Sting?” a new book from Shari Howard McMinn. The book comes out on August 30 – which is National Grief Awareness Day –  and I’ll get you an Amazon link when the book is available.

In my chapter, I shared the story of my mother’s five-year battle after a massive stroke. She died in 2017 and writing this chapter helped me honor her memory.

I hope you’ll pick up the book when it’s available. Grief is not black despair. It is suffering, no question, but suffering often can re-shape our priorities. How many times have you heard of someone, upon losing a loved one, to encourage others to reach out to their loved ones? Priorities shift our outlook – and often give us more compassion to our loved ones as well as come alongside others grieving.

It’s good preparation and I encourage you to consider the book.

 

 

Taking a Break

I’ve enjoyed sharing some stories with you on this website but now I’m going to take a break for a while. I have several big projects looming and I want to get a handle on them. I hope to take the stories I’ve shared and compile them into a small book. You’ll hear about that when I get that goal done (another of my big projects.) Thanks for your encouragement. I’ll be sharing things from time to time so I hope you stay tuned.

How to Find the Perfect Cat

A friend recently asked me for advice about bringing a cat into her home. This alone put me on alert since my knowledge of cats is limited to our barn cats plus the kitten we rescued a few months ago.

Since our rescued kitten turned into a friendly but ferocious tiger (read that adventure here), my friend thought she ought to get input on the perfect kitten.

I offered to do the online search for her.

Typing in “How to find the perfect breed of cat” seemed like an appropriate search.

Sure enough, there are scads of cat breed selectors online. Okie-Dokie, I jumped right in.

The first question asked, “How energetic would your ideal cat be?” After our rescued kitten adventure, I opted for a relaxed vibe.

Next up was how vocal would this ideal cat be? I could visualize a cat howling on the backyard fence, so I choose rarely makes a peep.

So far, so good. On to personality traits. Hmmm, I thought my friend would enjoy calm and affectionate.

I also thought her ideal cat would like a mix of social time and alone time, so I checked that box.

My friend didn’t want a long-haired cat with all the loose hairs and she wasn’t interested in grooming much. I chose rarely or never on the grooming thing.

With anticipation, I clicked the button to reveal the perfect breed.

Sorry, no match was found.

So there’s no short-haired cat who is quiet, calm, affectionate, and can hang out alone or with somebody. I should have known.

I had to tell my friend that there is no perfect breed for her.

She didn’t fall for it. She’s not taking our little tiger anyway.

Google Translate Couldn’t Help Us

“What do you think this says?” my husband studied a small box he’d lifted from the shelf at the grocery store. “Do you know any of these words?”

We were in a grocery store in Nogales, Mexico many years before Google Translate was available on our phones.

Translation was apparently my responsibility on this shopping excursion, so I browsed the ingredient list. 

Browsed in the sense that I tried to put letters together to make words. I knew the letters, but I didn’t know the words.

“Well, this picture could have something to do with an antibiotic,” I said.

His frowned. “That picture could be a pumpkin for all I can tell.”

He was right. The printing was not clear.

We should have brought a translator, but the available ones weren’t available. They were tending to our son’s wounded knee. 

Our family had come to Nogales for a week to repair a church building. Somehow, in the construction, our son’s knee had connected with something rough and hard. We had been sent in search of antibiotic cream while they cleaned the gash.

We went, confident that we were reasonably intelligent adults. A bit too optimistic since we were in a Spanish-speaking country where we didn’t know the word for antibiotic. We didn’t even know the word for first aid or bandage.

Finally, we settled on a slender box that appeared to have an image of a wound along with the brand name printed on the front plate. It could have been a logo of a whirlwind, too. We weren’t sure, but there was a tube in the box. Close enough for the clueless.

We took our find back to the church and handed the box over to the nurse. She pulled out the tube. 

Sometimes you wish you had a translator and you don’t. Sometimes you have a translator and wished you didn’t.

She translated for us then. In between giggles. 

Instead of buying antibiotic cream for our son’s knee, we’d picked up a tube of Preparation H.