Today's poem is stolen unashamedly from a blog called The Fat Pastor. I mean, how great is that? He sounds like a guy who's poem should be featured on a blog called At Least We Know We're Crazy. Right?
His poem is in honor of Advent.
Established, Unfinished
Robb McCoy
Established, unfinished; at hand, yet to be.
For the Kingdom of God, we are waiting to see.
Where’s the Prince of Peace in the midst of such war?
Made in the image of God, yet corrupt to core.
It is Peace that we seek, for peace do we yearn.
While cities and buildings and children still burn.
Dividing walls built in hearts and with brick,
By people who hold onto Bibles so thick.
Telling us who we can and cannot love,
Like Pharisees all, they strangle the dove.
Through the darkness does break a beacon of hope.
In midst of rough waters a life-saving rope.
Lo a child is born in a manger so rough,
Letting us know that, YES, love is enough.
Love your neighbor, Love God, there is nothing more.
And at once the seams of the curtain, they tore.
In the midst of fighting and chaos and doom,
We know our Creator is saving a room.
The Kingdom of God is still unfulfilled,
We continue to struggle for what God has willed.
Love mercy, do justice, walk humbly with God.
Eat dinner with sinners, the poor and the odd.
Though sometimes the Kingdom comes painfully slow,
Together we struggle, together we go,
to the Kingdom of God, our victory won
Established, unfinished, our struggle not done.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Grandpa Ron & The Bathroom Debacle
I live in an older home. It's solidly built with little bonuses like glass doorknobs. I love those doorknobs. I have been reluctant to replace them even after they stop working. The downstairs bathroom knob has been especially troublesome. You can't turn it too far to the right or you have to "unwind" it. It's one of those little tricks you learn from living in your home for a while.
Well, my Thanksgiving party was going pretty well. Lots of food. Lots of laughter. Lots of noise. So much laughter and noise, in fact, that we did not notice the sound of Grandpa Ron trapped in the downstairs bathroom. Eventually niece Ella went and found Cyberspace Sarah and said, "That man is pounding on the bathroom door. He can't get out."
And that is how we discovered that the lock had finally broken with Grandpa on the inside.
At first, Brent just tried pounding him out. Nothing. Then he took the doorknob off. Nothing.
Fortunately, another one of the great little quirks of my older home is that the laundry chute goes from my bedroom past the bathroom downstairs where there is another opening.
Grandpa took off the hinges and with some more artful pushing . . .
Grandpa was freed . . .
He was our own Chilean miner miracle.
There's never a dull moment at my house.
Well, my Thanksgiving party was going pretty well. Lots of food. Lots of laughter. Lots of noise. So much laughter and noise, in fact, that we did not notice the sound of Grandpa Ron trapped in the downstairs bathroom. Eventually niece Ella went and found Cyberspace Sarah and said, "That man is pounding on the bathroom door. He can't get out."
And that is how we discovered that the lock had finally broken with Grandpa on the inside.
At first, Brent just tried pounding him out. Nothing. Then he took the doorknob off. Nothing.
Brent and his helper were able to lower some tools down to Grandpa Ron. (Yes, that is the color of my bedroom carpet. Another joyful quirk of my home. Yes, with all the holiday friends and loved ones, there were people sleeping on the floor in every room.)
Grandpa took off the hinges and with some more artful pushing . . .
He was our own Chilean miner miracle.
There's never a dull moment at my house.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
A Poem for Tuesday
I'm thawing turkey and cleaning the bathrooms if you don't hear from me any more this week.
Here's an ode to the day. Shout it out! Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
Giving Thanks
Author Unknown
For the hay and the corn and the wheat that is reaped,
For the labor well done, and the barns that are heaped,
For the sun and the dew and the sweet honeycomb,
For the rose and the song and the harvest brought home --
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
For the trade and the skill and the wealth in our land,
For the cunning and strength of the workingman's hand,
For the good that our artists and poets have taught,
For the friendship that hope and affection have brought --
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
For the homes that with purest affection are blest,
For the season of plenty and well-deserved rest,
For our country extending from sea unto sea;
The land that is known as the "Land of the Free" --
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
Here's an ode to the day. Shout it out! Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
Giving Thanks
Author Unknown
For the hay and the corn and the wheat that is reaped,
For the labor well done, and the barns that are heaped,
For the sun and the dew and the sweet honeycomb,
For the rose and the song and the harvest brought home --
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
For the trade and the skill and the wealth in our land,
For the cunning and strength of the workingman's hand,
For the good that our artists and poets have taught,
For the friendship that hope and affection have brought --
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
For the homes that with purest affection are blest,
For the season of plenty and well-deserved rest,
For our country extending from sea unto sea;
The land that is known as the "Land of the Free" --
Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!
Friday, November 19, 2010
Think, men! Think!
You have to watch about four minutes into this video, but this was totally me last night at the sixth grade band concert. "Play to me, son! Play to me!!"
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
A Poem for Tuesday on Wednesday: The PD Saga, Part 3
Back at the beginning of this week's story about Preschooler D, there was a moment when Brent and I were staring at my computer as the full realization of what PD has done came over us. I walked through the process of what he had done to see how easy it was and had that screen up that showed the default choice of $140 on it.
PD came by and glanced up. "Oh! I bought some money, Mommy."
I sighed. "Yes. I see that."
He was so proud.
He'd been so smart.
I couldn't be angry at him because he had no concept of exactly what it was he had done. I was the one who needed to learn several valuable lessons from this situation, and I hope to heaven I have.
Today's poem is about a boy and his ice cream. You must go here to enjoy it.
PD came by and glanced up. "Oh! I bought some money, Mommy."
I sighed. "Yes. I see that."
He was so proud.
He'd been so smart.
I couldn't be angry at him because he had no concept of exactly what it was he had done. I was the one who needed to learn several valuable lessons from this situation, and I hope to heaven I have.
Today's poem is about a boy and his ice cream. You must go here to enjoy it.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
PD Shops On Line: Part 2
My first call was to Zynga. My preschooler made this purchase, I explained. The young, childless man on the other end of the phone laughed and said, "Cool." I then yelled at the young, childless man from Zynga. It was not Christ-like. It was not patient. It was tired and angry.
He put me on hold for a long time.
When he came back, I apologized to the young, childless man from Zynga. He was sort of taken aback by that. He said that PD had not spent the credits and that they should be refundable, but I would have to contact Facebook.
You can't call anyone from Facebook as near as I can tell, but Junior from Zynga showed me how to file a dispute on-line which I did immediately, explaining that my 3-year-old who cannot read made this purchase.
24 hours later I received an email from Facebook. Since it was someone in my home, the email said, they were not responsible. Non-refundable. All sales final. Please read their terms.
Well, I did read their terms and there was not one thing in it about 3-year-olds who cannot read. I sent a firmly worded email back for which I have not received a response.
It was Saturday morning when I called Ricardo from my credit card company.
To get the full feel of how hilarious this conversation was, you must know that I speak with a rather thick Minnesota/Canadian/Scandinavian accent. Lot of long vowels. An occasional rolled "r." If I were to invite you along on an afternoon boat ride, it would sound something like this: We'rrrre goooing to taake the bowt owt this afternoooon. Do you want to goh with? Richardo's first language was clearly Spanish and there were a lot of long pauses while we replayed what the other person had just said trying to figure it out. We laughed and had a great time because the first thing he said was not "cool," but "You must not worry about this one minute longer. I will take care of this for you."
"I love you, Ricardo." Okay, I didn't say that out loud, but I certainly thought it.
Ricardo says he gets 2-3 of these calls per day. The night before he'd dealt with an upset mom whose 13-year-old had spent $3000 on Facebook.
Now, look. Not for one minute do I claim I am not repsonsible for my small child's actions. If that had been an elementary child who could read and have some understanding of what he had read and purchased, I'd be getting a lot of free kitchen and laundry help right now while he paid down his debt to me. If I'd been out of the room for 30 minutes not checking on PD, I'd be kicking myself in the butt right now for not getting out the Play-doh. In two seconds, in two clicks, my pre-reader spent $140 and I think that's a little bit snarky on the part of Facebook.
I have removed all of my credit card information from Facebook, and I'm naming my next child Ricardo.
He put me on hold for a long time.
When he came back, I apologized to the young, childless man from Zynga. He was sort of taken aback by that. He said that PD had not spent the credits and that they should be refundable, but I would have to contact Facebook.
You can't call anyone from Facebook as near as I can tell, but Junior from Zynga showed me how to file a dispute on-line which I did immediately, explaining that my 3-year-old who cannot read made this purchase.
24 hours later I received an email from Facebook. Since it was someone in my home, the email said, they were not responsible. Non-refundable. All sales final. Please read their terms.
Well, I did read their terms and there was not one thing in it about 3-year-olds who cannot read. I sent a firmly worded email back for which I have not received a response.
It was Saturday morning when I called Ricardo from my credit card company.
To get the full feel of how hilarious this conversation was, you must know that I speak with a rather thick Minnesota/Canadian/Scandinavian accent. Lot of long vowels. An occasional rolled "r." If I were to invite you along on an afternoon boat ride, it would sound something like this: We'rrrre goooing to taake the bowt owt this afternoooon. Do you want to goh with? Richardo's first language was clearly Spanish and there were a lot of long pauses while we replayed what the other person had just said trying to figure it out. We laughed and had a great time because the first thing he said was not "cool," but "You must not worry about this one minute longer. I will take care of this for you."
"I love you, Ricardo." Okay, I didn't say that out loud, but I certainly thought it.
Ricardo says he gets 2-3 of these calls per day. The night before he'd dealt with an upset mom whose 13-year-old had spent $3000 on Facebook.
Now, look. Not for one minute do I claim I am not repsonsible for my small child's actions. If that had been an elementary child who could read and have some understanding of what he had read and purchased, I'd be getting a lot of free kitchen and laundry help right now while he paid down his debt to me. If I'd been out of the room for 30 minutes not checking on PD, I'd be kicking myself in the butt right now for not getting out the Play-doh. In two seconds, in two clicks, my pre-reader spent $140 and I think that's a little bit snarky on the part of Facebook.
I have removed all of my credit card information from Facebook, and I'm naming my next child Ricardo.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Preschooler D and the Credit Card
Every stay at home parent knows the worst time of day is between 3 and 6 o'clock. Every one's goodness for the day is just gone and chaos reigns.
It was this way for me last Thursday. Colin was stomping around in a fit of preteen angst trying to get himself ready for piano. Preschooler D (PD) was cranky and getting tired and I was trying to start supper. PD thought he would amuse himself playing on my computer which sits in the kitchen. "Fine!" I thought. "Good. He will be right here where I can keep an eye on him." I had my Facebook page up and PD immediately went to a game I tried playing but didn't like. It's one of those role-playing Facebook games where you're building a little world. You advance in these games by having other people on Facebook send you virtual items for your world. This one is an island. I thought the island game was boring, so I didn't keep playing. I had, in fact, taken it off my list of applications, but there was a picture of it at the top of the screen and that's where PD wanted to go. "Fine," I thought again. "What can this hurt? I didn't like that game. He can just move things around the little island to his heart's content right here where I can see him."
I went on my way making dinner . . . but I said out loud to the sink which was the only thing listening, "You know, I'm not sure this is a good idea."
I found out I was right two hours later when I got a receipt from Facebook thanking me for my purchase of 1400 credits for the island game. And what a bargain! They were on sale for $140.
Okay, so here's what happened. I don't like the little island game, but I have been very addicted to the game where you make a little frontier. So addicted, that from time to time I have purchased $2-3 worth of credits to advance myself along in the game without waiting for my other little frontier friends to send me what I need. Several weeks ago I purchased $7 worth of credits and I sort of freaked out that my addiction was going too far. So anyway, as you play these games, the fine folks at Facebook and Zynga, the creator of these games, want to make it easy for you to purchase credits and a screen pops up which says something to the effect, "Credits are on sale! Would you like to buy some?" When you click "yes" as PD did, another screen pops up with the different amounts you can purchase. The default option is the maximum amount, in this case $140. To be even more helpful, Facebook then automatically charged my credit card from the times when I made my $2-7 purchases of credits. With two clicks, PD purchased $140 of credits.
Stay tuned . . .
It was this way for me last Thursday. Colin was stomping around in a fit of preteen angst trying to get himself ready for piano. Preschooler D (PD) was cranky and getting tired and I was trying to start supper. PD thought he would amuse himself playing on my computer which sits in the kitchen. "Fine!" I thought. "Good. He will be right here where I can keep an eye on him." I had my Facebook page up and PD immediately went to a game I tried playing but didn't like. It's one of those role-playing Facebook games where you're building a little world. You advance in these games by having other people on Facebook send you virtual items for your world. This one is an island. I thought the island game was boring, so I didn't keep playing. I had, in fact, taken it off my list of applications, but there was a picture of it at the top of the screen and that's where PD wanted to go. "Fine," I thought again. "What can this hurt? I didn't like that game. He can just move things around the little island to his heart's content right here where I can see him."
I went on my way making dinner . . . but I said out loud to the sink which was the only thing listening, "You know, I'm not sure this is a good idea."
I found out I was right two hours later when I got a receipt from Facebook thanking me for my purchase of 1400 credits for the island game. And what a bargain! They were on sale for $140.
Okay, so here's what happened. I don't like the little island game, but I have been very addicted to the game where you make a little frontier. So addicted, that from time to time I have purchased $2-3 worth of credits to advance myself along in the game without waiting for my other little frontier friends to send me what I need. Several weeks ago I purchased $7 worth of credits and I sort of freaked out that my addiction was going too far. So anyway, as you play these games, the fine folks at Facebook and Zynga, the creator of these games, want to make it easy for you to purchase credits and a screen pops up which says something to the effect, "Credits are on sale! Would you like to buy some?" When you click "yes" as PD did, another screen pops up with the different amounts you can purchase. The default option is the maximum amount, in this case $140. To be even more helpful, Facebook then automatically charged my credit card from the times when I made my $2-7 purchases of credits. With two clicks, PD purchased $140 of credits.
Stay tuned . . .
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