by Kathy Brasby | May 20, 2013 | Hope
Now I like chickens as well as most people, which is hardly at all, but roosters have an even lower place.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I was under the age of accountability (determined by my lack of maturity in this case) when my little sister jumped on her bike to ride around our farmyard. She had one of those fat-wheel pink jobs with streamers blowing in the breeze.
As she rode past the flock of free-ranging chickens, the rooster spotted her. Maybe it was the streamers. Maybe it was the heat of the day. In any case, he stretched out in hot pursuit of the bike and my sister.
She glanced over her shoulder to discover the rooster, his head extended, legs churning. She screamed and stuck her legs straight out to the sides of the bike. No more pedaling.
A more mature (or at least kind and compassionate) older sister would have run to her rescue but this was too good to miss. I wanted to see what happened although the tears from my laughter obscured things.
She had enough momentum that, by the time her bike wobbled to a stop, the rooster had been shooed away by our diligent mother, who scurried past giggling me in rescue.
I might have matured a little over the years because something similar came up after I was married with kids.
We had a bantam chicken trio that I liked because of their chocolate tails and rich orange wings and back. They made nice ornaments in our barn.
But the rooster was mean and he started chasing my kids. This time I didn’t laugh until the tears ran. This time, I declared that this beautiful orange rooster had to go.
I offered to give him to a neighbor for butcher. We managed to trap him and stuff him into a feed bag.
“Don’t let him out,” I warned her. “He’s mean.”
After she took the wriggling feed bag home, she called me. “Do you have a hen to go with him? He’s beautiful.”
I repeated my story of a prowling rooster seeking whom he could devour. She insisted so we brought her a hen to go with the rooster.
This was a great win-win, I thought, until a couple of months later. My neighbor called me on the phone again.
“That rooster is crazy! He chases anything that moves!”
I wasn’t very sympathetic. And I do think that rooster ended up in a noodle soup shortly afterward.
For all I know, so did the one chasing my sister many years before. Mothers stand firm against prowling roosters.
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by Kathy Brasby | May 17, 2013 | Hope
When we read biblical narratives, we need to pay close attention to the dialogue. That’s where the action is, so to speak.
Esau Selling His Birthright (painting circa 1627 by Hendrick ter Brugghen) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Dialogue carries most of the punch of the story. Biblical narratives are tightly written with no extra words. Every sentence does heavy lifting in terms of the message.
Let’s take a look at some dialogue between two brothers. Here’s the piece we’ll examine:
Once, when Jacob was cooking some stew, Esau came in from the open country, famished. He said to Jacob, “Quick, let me have some of that red stew! I’m famished!”
Jacob replied, “First sell me your birthright.”
“Look, I am about to die,” Esau said. “What good is the birthright to me?”
But Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore an oath to him, selling his birthright to Jacob.
Then Jacob gave Esau some bread and some lentil stew. He ate and drank, and then got up and left.
Gen 25:29-34 (NIV)
We almost have what writers call a “talking heads” situation with a little action and a lot of talking.
Because characters are developed through the dialogue, what does the dialogue tell us about Jacob and Esau?
Esau is dramatic and driven by his stomach. He overstates his situation. Is he really about to die?
He also doesn’t value his birthright compared to the immediate need: hunger. So he’s not a guy who looks ahead. Right now is what matters for Esau and his own desires trump anything noble.
Jacob, on the other hand, is a guy who sits at home while his brother is out in the field. Was Esau hunting? Working in the field? We’re not told but he was not sitting at the fire cooking stew.
Jacob’s greed keeps him from ladling up the stew for his hard-working brother? Instead, he proposes an unequal exchange: food for birthright.
Jacob’s conscience doesn’t weigh in, even when Esau agrees to the lopsided deal. In fact, Jacob wants the deal locked in with an oath. Jacob is not a man to be trusted.
In a short exchange between brothers, we get a vivid picture of the character of each man. As Genesis unfolds, we see the consequences of Jacob’s greed and craftiness. He becomes a deceiver, a man of lies and crooked deals. And his first deal comes when he swindles his brother.
Jacob’s transformation from deceiver to father of God’s nation is made more amazing in light of this early exchange between Jacob and Esau.
Biblical dialogue carries forward rich meaning and it’s important to read it carefully.
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by Kathy Brasby | May 15, 2013 | Hope
Once the joke was that if you needed your VCR/TV/voicemail set up, adopt a 12-year-old to do it for you.
As I watched my grandson at 18 months slide his fingers over my smartphone screen, I think the age requirement may have dropped.
American Easter eggs from Washington (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
But what’s with children grasping technology faster than the more mature among us?
My theory is they play with technology like they play with toy trucks and blocks. They have fun with the medium and, in the process, discover how it works.
So I have some fun for you that just might also give you a foot in the door with the younger generation.
First, you need to know the term “Easter egg.” Forget about the pastel plastic eggs stuffed with candy. These Easter eggs are surprises waiting on the internet for the frisky explorer.
Here’s your first Easter egg: direct your browser to Google Images and type in “Atari Breakout.” Wait for it…. A little fun nostalgia for many of us awaits. Enjoy the screen but don’t forget to come back because I have more.
Here are a few more Easter eggs to explore. Remember, the point is fun so don’t get all serious wondering just what these programmers could have been doing to save the world.
In each of these, navigate to the Google search page. You’ll see the search window there. Type what’s between the quotation marks but leave off the quotation marks:
- Type “Google pond” into the search window. Then press the “I’m feeling lucky” button and watch your screen.
- Type “tilt” and press the search button. Use this to annoy your OCD friends – well, maybe former friends.
- Try “Barrel roll” in the search window and select the search button. Buckle your seat belt.
- Type “elgoog” and press the “I’m feeling lucky” button. Think about Alice in the mirror.
- Having a gray day? Try “Google rainbow” and press “I’m feeling lucky.”
- “Google guitar” lets you play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star or Forest Gump. Your choice.
- Also try “Google underwater” for a cool effect.
Remember that the point is to have some fun and maybe to connect with someone under age 18. The key is to offer the Easter egg as though you’ve always known this stuff. And then laugh together.
A great use for technology.
(Thanks to my techie teen for his help on this.)
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by Kathy Brasby | May 13, 2013 | Hope
When our hobby farm was at full capacity, we milked several Nubian goats every day. One morning, when I started chores in our milking room, my 4-year-old daughter climbed onto a large feed box at the back of the room and peered over the back side.
“Mom, there’s a cat back there.”
Cat (Photo credit: @Doug88888)
Oh, great. There weren’t supposed to be any cats in that room. “Is it dead or alive?”
She studied the gap between the box and the wall. “Dead. Can I pick it up?”
“No!” Yeuck. What now? Why did my sweet husband go to work 40 miles away when it would have been nice to turn that dead cat over to him? I was home alone. Well, me and a curious preschooler.
“Leave it alone,” I added before she got any fresh ideas for exploration. She huffed and crossed her arms but stayed atop the box with her feet dangling on my side.
I drew in a long breath, avoiding any images of this dead cat smashed against the wall. Kind of like not thinking about the purple elephant in the room.
I had to deal with it on my own. Where there any empty feed bags around? How was I going to pick up this thing?
Maybe I milked a little slower that morning. Why did adults get to be the responsible ones?
Believing strongly in the principle that it’s better to face the horror than have it hanging over your head all day, I finished the barn chores and took a deep breath.
Hand sanitizer. Check. Thick trash bags. Check. Facemask. Check.
Back into the milking room I marched, my daughter close on my heels. She wouldn’t miss this for the world. Sigh.
I leaned slowly over the feed box and looked down the gap. There, tattered and soiled, lay a purple and white stuffed cat toy.
“You said it was dead,” I said to my daughter.
“Well, it’s not alive.”
A lesson on the nuances of words. Check.
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by Kathy Brasby | May 10, 2013 | Stories
The Bible uses many genres but the most common one is narrative. The many stories of the Bible populate our literature and our imaginations.
Mention the prodigal son and heads nod. We understand the one who wandered away but then returned to a joyous father.
We know the good Samaritan, who defied cultural bigotry to extend a kind and sacrificial hand to another in need.
Let’s look briefly at a powerful story that packs a bigger punch than you might first think.
The book of Ruth, at first glance, seems to be a sweet romance with a nice moral to the story. But let’s go deeper into this amazing narrative.
This is the story of a Israelite woman, Naomi, who travels with her husband and sons from their hometown of Bethlehem in the midst of a famine to the land of Moab. While they live in a foreign country, the husband and sons die.
A woman in that culture without a husband or son was destitute, unable even to transact business.
Left devastated, Naomi decides to return to Bethlehem. One daughter-in-law, Ruth, determines to follow her and so they return with Naomi complaining about what God has stolen away from her. She calls herself Bitter and says that she left Bethlehem full and now returns empty.
Ruth, a foreign widow – and her status couldn’t be much lower than that – goes out into the harvest fields to gather up the grain that has fallen to the ground. She took on a servant status out of kindness to Naomi, picking up heads of grain as food for Naomi and her.
While in the fields, she is noticed by the field’s owner, who is impressed with her commitment to Naomi. He extends kindness by providing protection while allowing Ruth to gather in his field.
As it turns out, this owner, Boaz, is a family member – and one who is qualified to rescue Naomi from her problems – perhaps by buying her land or perhaps through marriage to perpetuate the lineage.
There are a number of subtleties in the process but in the end Boaz marries Ruth, provides her with a son that legally is Naomi’s lineage, and heads up the line of King David – and ultimately Jesus.
The book allows Naomi to blame God of cruelties, including afflicting her with emptiness. Yet the book ends with Naomi nurturing her newborn grandson, with Ruth and Boaz both deeply devoted to her.
We get to see how Naomi’s perception of God’s nature changes as we follow her story. Where Naomi says she returns empty, the reader immediately is shown that she returns at the time of an abundant harvest. That harvest symbolizes the fullness God has ahead for her.
The story of Ruth unveils kindness in many ways: from Ruth to Naomi, from Boaz to Ruth, and from God to Naomi.
Naomi thought she understood how destitute her life had become. But she would soon learn the true nature of God, that of abundance and goodness. He restored a family – and her second family became a royal lineage.
The women of Bethlehem, who heard Naomi blame God for her empty status, remind her after the baby’s birth that God provided a redeemer, renewed her life and would sustain her in her old age.
In the end, this sweet romance reveals the kindness of God. That’s the power of narrative.
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