strange things growing

I finally dug my carrots this past week.  It turns out that they were looking a bit mutant.  Perhaps this is what happens when you don't do a good job preparing the soil down deep before you plant?

I think they look like little, headless carrot creatures, with big, thick tails.

Strange.

But, then, it's been a strange week.  Some expected and some new--and several days of reporting for jury duty.  The prospect of being on the jury for a murder trial was sobering, but the long hours of waiting to get into the courtroom made for good reading time.  I escaped via the pages of "Friday Night Knitting Club," and enjoyed the diversion.

Now, my trick is going to need to be to stop thinking of new projects and focus on the ones I've already started. 

I spend made a quick trip to Sacramento this weekend to get a bit more time with Matt.  Unfortunately, my visit to him came with a sit through a "family briefing" courtesy the US Army.  I'm no fan of such things, nor can I stomach the way they refer to Matt as "my soldier."  I don't want a soldier, nor do I want to possess my husband.  The upside is that I got to meet some of the folks he'll be spending the next months with in Iraq; somehow, making it through seems more possible when there are real (even, sometimes, delightful) people involved.

Work is continuing here at the house--all the concrete (except for the driveway and front walk) is now taken out, and someone's coming on Friday to dig up the dirt and add in compost.  Perhaps so my carrots will be less mutant next season.  Here's hoping.  Then, soon, I can plant vegetables!

Oh, and my papaya seeds finally sprouted, which gives me great hope.  I'd thought they were too old and dried out.

on the homefront

As soon as got the unavoidable news of Matt's deployment, he stopped going to school (since he was going to have to leave before mid-term, anyhow) and launched into house projects that have been waiting.  And now things are really starting to look good.  I'm just sad that he's not here to enjoy them...

I'm quite excited about the kitchen, which now has totally-finished concrete counters by Matt, and a backsplash, too.  Once I get some light switch covers and trim pieces...well...it's gonna be crazy.  Matt's dad is milled the window trim as we speak.  (Aren't the cabinets he made of reclaimed wood beautiful?)

My happy at-home eco-creation this week, though, is a clothesline out back.  It occurred to me that, while a solar energy system on our roof would be very cool, using solar energy to dry clothes on line in the meantime would be a nice step.

I'm stoked about my simple design.  It sits in these brackets, so it can also come down if we want to use the space for something else.
And, finally, my happy report of the week: some plants that mysteriously appeared on the ledge on the side of the house.  I haven't figured out who put them there, and enjoying the mystery.

little things and big things

Matt's pick of how to spend our last whole day together before deployment was a hike.  It was beautiful.  There was a good amount of water in the river--enough to make some waterfalls--and little things were growing and budding and thriving.

in the valley, these buds were growing on beautiful orange and red branches in the wide part of the river.

Up higher, in the cracks of the rocks that run down to the river, mosses and things and something a lot like an onion were growing.

Here's our group, at our furthest-up point.  It's good to be together, in the beauty of these places.

This Live-Forever reminded me of the tenacious power of life to hold on.  If it's making it in just a little crack on the side of a vertical rock, we can all make it through this deployment (even if it's to a war that feels ill-conceived, at best...).

tagged

Erika tagged me.  I'll play along, even if I don't sound very scholarly.

Here are the rules:

1 - Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. (Just grab one, no cheating!)
2 - Find Page 123.
3 - Find the first 5 sentences.
4 - Post the next 3 sentences.
5 - Tag 5 people, who will post theirs in the comment section.

From "Building a Shed" by Joseph Truini:
"Hand the first truss to your helper on top of the wall, then hustle inside the shed and grab the long rear rafter of the first truss.  Help your partner set the truss on top of both the front and rear walls, making sure it's directly over the first wall stud.  Working at the front wall, align the outside edge of the plywood gusset plate on the truss with the outside edge of the wall's top plate."

I like that it includes these words: hustle, partner, stud and align.

And, we decided to wait on rebuilding a shed 'til after deployment.  Besides that "deployment" begins in, like, 3 days, being shed-less might be a critical step towards figuring out how to live a less-is-more life.  I'm better at accumulating creative possibilities in big plastic tubs, though, so that'll be a challenge.

I'm also trying to focus on savoring these last days before separation, rather than just being sad, angry or anxious.  Wish me luck.

yesterday, my garden

There is lots of possibility in the garden, as of yesterday.

(pictured, from top left: bachelor's buttons, alstromeria, zinnia, hibiscus, marigold, geranium, stephanotis, clivia, lime tree, calla lily, gardenia, passion fruit, poinsettia, banana, sweet pea, african daisy, lavender, fig tree, mexican bird of paradise, gazania)

Hard to believe it snowed this week in other parts of the county.

We've been working on the house like crazy, trying to get lots of projects done before Matt's departure.  Pictures will follow soon...  In the meantime, I'm off to catch a plane to Vegas for a little gathering of leaders from the west, in preparation for our UMC General Conference in April.

creating comfortable things

The last two nights, I've been engaging my crafty side; it feels good to make projects I've been thinking about for a while.

While I was sewing at our kitchen table last night, we heard gunshots in the neighborhood.  I don't think Matt was the only one to call the police.  In minutes, our street was full of police cars and a helicopter overhead; a man was found, killed by gunshots, in the alley on our block.

It felt a little surreal to sit at the sewing machine, stealing glances outside to watch as news crews set up to film in our driveway.  But, I suppose, sewing is a decent response to violence in the world.  Creating, generating, making all feel like fine alternatives to destroying, ending, tearing apart.

Here's half of what I made yesterday--an apron from one of Matt's old jeans legs.  I made him one from the other leg, too (though with less fruit sewn on).  Since we're cooking more, it seemed like maybe we could use aprons.  The binding and ties are from an old sheet I got at the thrift store last week.

And here's what I made tonight: a pile of pincushions, inspired by Betz White's design of a cupcake pincushion.  Fuzzy sweaters and images of sweets--what could be more comforting?
We checked in with the neighbors today; no one knows who it was in our alley.  And we all want to live in communities where these things don't happen.

tomato cycles

Yesterday, I picked the last tomatoes off of last year's vines--scrawny, little, yellow tomatoes.

I also started seeds for this year's tomato crop.  I love tomatoes.

My little neighbor and garden club member, R, was walking home from school while I was out in the yard, so I got to share with her the first harvest of this year's strawberries.  (Strawberries are her favorite.)  She stayed to help me plant some new seeds--she got the job of writing on the little sticks.  She was amused that most of the tomato varieties we planted were named after other fruits.  (Tomatoes are after all, she noted, having studied such things in school this year, fruits themselves.)

So, we planted our pineapple tomatoes, grape tomatoes, strawberry tomatoes, brown berry tomatoes, garden peach tomatoes, and a few less fruity ones too.

Here's hoping they grow!

We've been working on our house like crazy lately, trying to get everything Matt wants to be involved with done before he leaves.  It also means that we get to help employ some neighbors who've been having a hard time, lately, getting work.  We talked to our painter today--he said it's been a month since he had a job.   He gave us a spectacular price on our paint job last year, and a great deal again, so he's not getting rich off of us, but it does feel good to be able to hire people who are wanting to work and having trouble finding it.  I also really like the neighbor who has been working on our roof--he used to live next door, and now his eldest son does.  He has a new daughter--7 days old--who came for a visit yesterday.  She's beautiful.

I'm starting to think it's gonna feel crazy lonely and quiet here when Matt goes...

dust

I love Ash Wednesday.  It seems so gloriously simple and honest--confession and grace.  Humility, and a reminder that we're all made of dust, and we'll go back to the dust.  

And this Lent, Matt and I have agreed to take on a practice we hope will help shape us in good ways: we're giving up eating in restaurants and taking up cooking for ourselves (and, hopefully, others!)  We even make our first several-day meal plan.  

I don't think I've ever gone more than about 4 days in San Diego without having at least one bean and cheese burrito from a drive-thru.  I also can't remember the last time we cooked more than 2 meals at home in a week.  This could be big.

If we also live into our hope of eating more locally, it'll also mean we can make use of all that deer meat in our fridge...and the chard in our yard.

Here's hoping...

the pics

I found the camera cord.  It was in the garage all along.

So, here are my illustrations to yesterday's post, and a few more for kicks.

I'm having fun quilting woven woolens.  Here are the first (and only, so far) 2 blocks.

This is the quilt I was given, my inspiration.
And, for fun, here's what it looks like to watch a football game at our house.  Of course, we San Diegans know the big game was 2 weeks ago.  Super Bowl, Schmuper Bowl.
And, we got to celebrate a birthday after watching the game.  To help lift our spirits after our loss.
Good times.

And, apparently the Army has some small amount of reason in some corner; Matt's coming back from NorCal tonight, as they got all the things they needed to do done.  :)

making it

We finally got news of my dear husbands upcoming deployment, like for real.  And, his departure will come at the end of this month.  For the last few days, we've both been moving much slower than usual.  Funny how depression makes you feel so, well, like someone's pressing down on you all the time.  But we're making it.  This weekend, he's off in NorCal, meeting with the group of folks he'll deploy with.  Filling out paperwork and getting shots and all that.  

So, to rally my spirits, I finally got myself to work on some of the crafty project that have been swirling around in my mind for the last many weeks.   Making things has been good for my spirit.  I took pictures, but can't find the cord to download them--I have this hunch that it's in the computer bag Matt took up north.

So, you get to use your imagination.  I make two squares that hope to be part of a quilt of some kind--a free-styling log cabin block, made out of repurposed wool.  Perhaps, if I like the quilt pattern, it might also make itself into a baby quilt for a baby-to-be that I'm ecstatic about.  Also, I had my first mostly-success in remaking a big t-shirt to a fun, fitted style.  It still needs something, but I'm not quite sure what tonight.  Maybe inspiration will come tomorrow.

Really, all the quilt-making inspiration was spurred on by a beautiful gift I received this week.

On Thursday morning, I felt my usual mix of tiredness and uncertainty (amplified by the above-mentioned depression) about whether I really wanted to get myself down to the Rescue Mission for my weekly Bible study with the women there.  And, as usual, when I finally got myself there, it was beautiful and full of grace.  This week, in addition to Bible study grace, there was a kind woman I've enjoyed for a long while now, who gifted me a lap quilt she made.  "For you and your house," she said.  "It's earth tones.  I know you have an old house--I thought it might match."  And, she's right: it's perfect in our house.  It's such a gift to have my hesitance met with overflowing grace, embodied in a homemade gift.

winter harvest

Thought I'd share dinner tonight.  I still marvel that one can grow things in January in this part of the world.  Like, things to eat.

Mostly, the garden's pretty bare, waiting for us to get around to heaping on more compost and things.  But, I couldn't resist starting a few broccoli plants.  And they were yummy.

My question for tonight is: would you wear a shirt silkscreened with an image of broccoli?  Just askin'...

Friday Five: books!

I've been pondering a way about sharing excitement over recent and upcoming reading.  Today's Friday Five from the RevGalPals seemed like the perfect excuse...

Yesterday, my friend Jen gave me a belated Christmas present.  She wanted to get me something cool, not just something.  

I'm pretty excited that she got me Banana. Now I can be smart about the bananas I'm growing in the back yard.  It's even autographed: "to Molly."

What book have you read in the last six months that has really stayed with you? Why?

I just finished Three Cups of Tea, which is our "One Book, One San Diego" book for 2008.  It was fun, thoughtful, inspirational and insightful.  It's not every book that both Matt and I find interesting enough for him to tolerate me reading aloud on a road trip, but this one got us all the way from Utah to home...

What is one of your favorite childhood books?
Hmm...  I've gotta say the Little House on the Prairie books.  They also created my most favorite "other time/place" in which to imagine life.

Do you have a favorite book of the Bible? Do tell!
Ecclesiastes, I suppose.  It's both cynical and hopeful--I say it's my favorite GenX book.

Of course, it's hard to compete with gospel stories, too.

What is one book you could read again and again?
I'm not a big re-reader, other than scripture and Dr. Seuss.  Or poetry.  

My Antonia, by Willa Cather, is probably the novel I've read most times.  But only, like, 3.  

Is there a book you would suggest for Lenten reading? What is it and why?
I've been hungry for poetry lately.  So I guess Wendell Berry's A Timbered Choir: the Sabbath poems would have to be it.  I like poetry as devotional reading--it seems like it leaves more space for mystery.  And I think you can't go wrong with Wendell Berry.

And because we all love bonus questions, if you were going to publish a book what would it be? Who would you want to write the jacket cover blurb expounding on your talent?
I always thought it'd be fun to write a preaching commentary for the "Sundays after," for newly ordained associate pastors.  We don't need (nor can we afford) the whole set.  We only preach the Sunday after Christmas, the Sunday after Easter, Forth of July, most of August...  Plus, it'd include thoughts about preaching when you're not the "regular" preacher, establishing your voice as an associate, and starting a "contemporary" worship service.  (That's what we always do, right?)  

I think it would be fun to get my dear Senior Pastor to write the blurb.  He could say something like, "Molly's swell to work with, but, to be honest, I've never really heard her preach.  After all, she just fills in when I'm on vacation.  But, I'm sure you'll love her book.  And, after seven years of being an associate, I'm sure she's figured some things out."  

(For the record, the tone of that is genuine.  I love working with my Senior Pastor.  And have always felt tremendous support from him.  Which is why this idea strikes me as so funny.)

not afraid to die

I've been musing on this for a while.  I meant this to be more elegant, but decided inelegant and existent is better than elegant but only imagined...  

Tonight in Vespers, as we read of Simeon and his gracious blessing and willingness to die (having seen salvation in the form of an infant Jesus), it came to me again:

How come we're good at preaching that people should be unafraid to die when we're afraid of the death of our denomination?

After the scripture, it came back in the communion liturgy.  How Jesus "freed us from slavery to fear and death."

My wondering is about how the denomination--in my case the United Methodist Church--is like a person.  I have this sense that we are.  And, that our preoccupation with our own decline (we don't actually say "death") is preventing us from living faithfully, fearlessly, freely.  Which, it seems to me, is what we ought to be about.

Not, of course, that we shouldn't always be concerned with how to change ourselves up to be relevant--I'm just supposing that, if we were primarily concerned with vital ministry in the lives of individuals and communities, we couldn't help but do that.  If we were always doing those things Jesus said to do--caring for the poor, the widows, the orphans.  Doing justice and building peace.  

Sometimes, we get caught up in argument about semantics.  Like how we describe the ways we need to change.  I think we fall short when we're talking about ways we need to change "so that the denomination doesn't die."  When we keep caught on how to change so we're building the kin-dom of God, we should be much better off.

I'm just saying that if death (or "decline," as we prefer) has us caught in fear, we've got no chance.  I believe in resurrection.

Thoughts?

sabbath and (formerly) sagging rooftops

Vacation is a splendid thing.  And, increasingly, I am grateful for time and space to be sabbath-like--no working, no creating, just being.  A long drive and a glorious week in a lovely cabin in snowy Colorado were wonderful for me.  I needed such rest.  The beauty of the Rocky Mountains isn't bad, either...

We came home last Wednesday, and took a look at the work our neighbor had wrought on our garage that day.

Formerly, our roof had been getting worse and worse with this little problem in which its pitch went the wrong way.  So, instead of allowing rain to roll off the roof, it collected rainwater in lovely pools, which then slowly (though increasingly rapidly) came through the roof into the garage.  I blame this on many things, including weak original construction, and the 8 layers of asphalt shingles placed on top of each other, without removing under layers.

Friday, Matt and I began to rebuild the roof structure.  Here's the beginnings, from Friday afternoon.  Since then, it's gotten even better.  It feels so strong now.
All of which is to say that we jumped back into working and creating.  

On the drive home, I began dreaming of crafty projects.  One of which I've actually made.  This vase told me it wanted a new, woolen cover, to help it show off springy blooms from our garden.  The angle is a bit skewed in the pic, but my choices were either a) skew the angle, or b) let you see the mess that is my living room.  Sorry.
Now, I'm dreaming of silk screening.  I have a clever plan.  We'll see if it makes its way into material reality or not.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying the intoxicatingly sweet smell of those daffodilly blooms, and giving thanks for how rest makes me feel energized for new adventures.

(I can't say that it makes me feel energized to tackle the nasty pile of accumulated paperwork on the desk in my office at the church, but the more creative bits of work have been fun...)

I'm also very thankful for the Army's lack of certainty these days, as it is delaying Matt's departure for Iraq.  This past weekend, they even uttered the words "or maybe not at all" in reference to his deployment timing.  While that's far from certain, it's also far better than his leaving next week.

So, as always, keep working for peace, and praying for an end to this war.

beautiful world, small things edition

beautiful world, animal edition

A prize for the first person who can find the bighorn sheep in the picture below...

And, though not animals, these snowflakes are big!

beautiful world, pt 2

beautiful world, pt 1

from our house to yours

We made a gingerbread house on Christmas.  Here it is, along with my prayers for warmth and delight for you.

Heck, for sweetness, too.

We've been busy.  Christmastime is hectic for a preacher, and more so for a crazy one whose family is trying to build a house out of stuff like wood and nails, not just candy. Or who's trying to savor any time she can get with her dear husband, who's fixing to deploy to this insane and immoral war in Iraq (again) at the end of January.  Or so.  The Army seldom really gets their act together about sharing useful details like this.  

In the meantime, we're ducking out of the blogosphere for a big of a vacation together, and some time with my family.

After I preach one more sermon.

it's beginning to look a lot like xmas

I finally decided it was the right time to climb back into the narrow space behind our shed (I use the word "climb" because it requires maneuvering around oddly-placed shovels, a large pick, a wheelbarrow, 2 ladders and the scrap wood that used to be our aquarium stand, plus an overgrown passionfruit vine and the shed itself...) to harvest some of the poinsettia flowers back there.

[I know, I know.  It wasn't really the "flowers" that I was after, but "bracts" just doesn't sound as lovely.  And darn it, those radiant red things deserve a word as nice as "flower."]

Now, our coffee table is decorated very well.  And the lily Jay left with us when he went back to Iowa combines nicely with the smell of pine from our tree and garlands to make a sweeter Christmasy smell than I've known before.

As a bonus, I discovered that I could replace the gaudy plastic wrap around the lilies with a chunk from the sleeve of a sweater I felted.  :)  No sewing necessary--just scissors.

Punctuating this Christmasy goodness are bouts of play of the coolest, most fabulous video game ever: Rockband.  It's a good thing that we don't own the game.  I wouldn't get anything (other than channelling rock stars, with the use fake guitars, microphone and drums) done.  But how cool is it to have a friend with the game--in our neighborhood!?  Rock on.

Now, if I could just get my crafting projects for Christmas done...

a bit of gratitude

If Orangeblossoms can do, it so can I.

Here's something I'm grateful for:

Our clownfish, Jackie and Nighty (named by the child of a friend), used to live in a coral in our aquarium.  In coral reefs, they tend to live in anemones--just like in Finding Nemo.  But, in the midst of some technical malfunctions earlier this year, the coral that had been playing the part of an anemone-like home, died.  They became homeless.  And, in our new aquarium, they seemed so lost--floating around the edges, as if lost.  Or, worse, swimming so near to the top that my corner-of-eye vision often thought they were, um, floating there.

Last week, we added a *real* anemone to our aquarium.  And, after a few days of contemplating the possibility, Jackie and Nighty took up residence inside.

It feels so good to see them now, hanging out--even sleeping--in the comfort of their green anemone.  Like everything is going to be alright.

complaints about the army #291 & #292

With news that my dear husband is really almost certainly deploying in January, I share two of my current complaints, neither of which really addresses my broader and deeper frustration with war:

# 291-Though the nice ads on television suggest that joining the Reserves while going to college is a fantastic idea, that has not been the reality I've seen.  In five years in the Reserves--six by his anticipated return from Iraq and exiting of the Reserves--my dear husband will have completed four semesters of college.  He has enrolled every semester possible since he joined.  That's two out of six years.  Which is remarkably less than his hopes or expectations, and less than the touching ad suggested.

#292-Though our government already rightly noticed that it seems unfair that Reservists who serve long deployments should not have access to the same GI Bill benefits as active duty military folks, and opened up this benefit to Reservists, they do so ONLY while Reservists are IN the Reserves.  Not after they've left.  And, as mentioned in complaint #291, it's difficult to actually complete semesters of schooling WHILE in the Reserves, making this benefit, well, not very beneficial.  

Not that I'm bitter.

Don't even get my started on how KBR (who we're playing lots of money to provide services that, in previous wars, were provided by military personnel) burns the plastic plates they serve our soldiers on, and lets the smoke from their burning plastic trash drift through the barracks they set up for soldiers to live in.  Wrong in SO many ways I lose track.

And, of course, all this does nothing to express the complex immoralities of a war of occupation, or the unthinking cost of human lives--mostly Iraqi--in this war. Among other things.

-

Plus, I just really don't want to have to live without my husband for another long piece of time.

a little humor

Thanks to Erika, I've fallen for ASBO Jesus, whose post for today is way worth checking out.

Merry Advent.

 

in the cracks

This summer, when we were working on making our backyard more delightful, Matt hacked away at this giant plant that was growing in the little space between the back of our shed and the fence.  We wanted to be able to keep some tools and things there.

I noticed that it was a poinsettia.  I was a little bummed that it had been hacked away (though glad for more storage space.)

Last weekend, while looking for a shovel, I went behind the shed again.  The poinsettia has returned, this time in Christmas bloomin' splendor.

It's not easy to get around to see it, but there it is, flourishing away in a narrow canyon of metal and concrete.  It must be 10 feet tall.

Lots of little blooms are growing, too.
I take this as a good sign.

It's been a week of grand discouragement, frustration and outrage.  My dear husband was told he's on a list to re-deploy to Iraq, as an Army Reservist.  In January.  Next month.

His local commander is trying to get him off that list.  But only so he can go with that commander in September.

Now, I know that it's not unreasonable to imagine that anyone anywhere near the reach of the military would be called up to deploy.  It just really, really sucks when it's your beloved life partner.  And a war that you hate so much.

I had harbored hope that he could make it through 'til he's able to get out of the active Reserves next November, without another deployment.

So, we're waiting anxiously, to hear if he's really on the January list.  And then imagining how we're going to live in this little space between now and his departure.

I hope it looks even a smidgen as lovely as that poinsettia.

eating seasonally

My quest to eat more locally, and to eat what it in season, seems hardly fair when you live in San Diego: I made fresh pasta sauce out of tomatoes and basil I picked from my garden this weekend.  Yum.

My tomatoes are not nearly as bountiful or gigantic as during the summer months, but one should never complain about fresh tomatoes from the garden in December.  I give thanks also for kind people at the church, who shared both persimmons and tomatoes with me last week!
Winter sun, compressed into juicy orbs.  

needles and pins

When I was a kid, and Mom was teaching me how to sew, she always warned me to be careful that I didn't catch my finger in the needle.  It seemed impossible to me that a person could sew her finger.

After this weekend, I'm a believer.  I hurts a whole lot to sew your finger with a machine.  I don't recommend it.

So, as of this past Friday night, I've renewed my commitment to pinning what I sew.  I will no longer grow lazy and just try to use my fingers to keep things together.  Really.

Crafting can be dangerous.  Darn dangerous.

magical speaking

I think my dear husband has magical speaking abilities.

See, last weekend, when we were up working on our house-building project, he started us talking about this pile of leftoever concrete blocks we've been trying to get rid of.  Months ago, we posted on Craigslist, and a nice man agreed to take them.  He started the process of picking them up, but stopped maybe 2/3 of the way through, and about 5 weeks ago.  Also, he hadn't made it by to pay us yet.  So, we were left with this annoying obstacle we've dodged for, like, ever.  

The next day, the guy calls. He wants to come by to pay us, and he promises to take care of getting the rest of the blocks.  The cash is in our hands, and the promises to retrieve blocks seem hopeful.

Then, this Thursday night (while playing Rock Band, the most fabulous video game, EVER), my dear husband complains to our Rock Band-owning friend that the city has never followed through with our request for repair or replacement of our trash container.  As you can see, it has NO LID.  It used to have a lid, but it cracked one day, between the time we set it out and the time when we retrieved it after it was dumped.  Later, the crack became a split, and before long, the lid was all the way loose.  It persevered for a couple of weeks, but then one Friday, when the trash truck dumped our dumpster, it dumped the lid right into the trash truck.  Since then, our driveway has been smellier than usual.  It rained this weekend, too.
But, thanks to his magical speaking abilities, and my dear husband's complaints to friends, the nice folks from the city called Friday morning (the next day, you'll note), saying they'd be by Monday to repair or replace our container.

Now, if we could just get him to complain about bigger things.  Like this war in Iraq.  Or loss of civil liberties...

my monsters

My current obsession with making things from old, felted sweaters continues.  Tonight, these monsters told me they wanted to come out of some sleeves.  (Is making a monster out of a sleeve like having a trick up one?)

Oh, the fun.  It's like a creative wonderland in my living room.  These guys are just the tip of the iceberg (if an iceberg would last long in front of our cozy pellet stove).

Anyhow, the three of us send happy greetings from City Heights.

[Though it's a lovely time of year from gardening in San Diego, our garden is sort-of on hold.  The nice folks at City Farmers Nursery told us that the reason we're feeling frustrated with the growth of vegetables out there is that there are, like, no nutrients in our soil.  We have our list of happy organic amendments to add, but 'til we get our act together to do that, we're just grateful for the one chard plant growing, alongside two scraggly broccoli plants, and some garlic that's sprouted.  I hope the garden isn't jealous that my attention is turned toward felt.]

the dangers of corn

While I've been concerned for a while about the state of our food and farm economy, and particularly troubled about the way our system encourages over-raising of corn, which provides an excess of useable grain, requires intensive chemical inputs, feeds the coffers of agri-business as the expense of small growers, destroys the fertility of our land, and does all of this by using government subsidies, today the dangers of corn seem to have come to new immediacy.

Apparently, an Iowa family has been injured and lost their home in an avalanche of corn, from a nearby storage bin.  Mounds of corn are dangerous is so many ways.

For more on mounds of corn, check out the new documentary, King Corn (see below). 

messes and cleaning up

I decided it was finally time to try roasting the big, orange pumpkin that has been so much fun in my yard and on my step.  But when I cut into it, I found lots of sprouts!

I'm not sure whether sprouted pumpkin seeds mean problems for pumpkins or not, but this pumpkin didn't smell anything like I think pumpkins should smell.  (Not awful, or rotten--just sort of earthy and sprout-like...)  Ultimately, I decided that one of the butternut squashes from my garden would rather be roasted and made into soup.
Crazy. 

And, while I wasn't scooping pumpkin bits into and out of the sink, I thought it'd be fun to try making soap.  Here's one of my first two batches: a honey-oat soap.

Unfortunately for me, I have to wait three more weeks to try it out and see if it's yummy to use.  Ah, the challenges of life.

buying less, doing more good

I'm feeling called to use this year's Advent season as a time to challenge consumerism.

Not just to be a grinch, but because we need to remember that things are and are not good for: when they add beauty to the world, sustain life and build what I'd call God's kin-dom, things can be very good. More often, though, they distract me.

So, this year, I'm gonna try to give better gifts. I love to make things, so that's going up at the top of my list: things I can enjoy creating that others will find useful. (Using recycled materials would be even better, though I also have no problem with simply using up the containers of materials I've been accumulating and storing away...) I'm also keen on thinking of gifts that might help build relationships with other people--finding ways to give the gift of time together, and good things to do in that time. And, of course, giving "alternative Christmas" gifts--donations to worthy causes--in honor of people.

I think it's gonna be fun.

Wanna join me?

I was delighted by the Advent Conspiracy website (thanks for the tip-off, Er). I can jump on that bandwagon. Or, better, find my own solar- or human-energy powered vehicle to ride along that route. ;)

Buy less. Worship more. Give more. All that.

snail mail gone awry

This postcard arrived in our mailbox yesterday. I'm baffled.

Westport, Connecticut is a long ways from San Diego, California.

CA and CT are only one letter apart, but otherwise... Our street address has 4 digits. One is a zero, but that's hardly a similarity. We live on a numbered Street. Not a named Road.

How this reached our box is beyond me. We decided it deserved an envelope and a new shot at making its destination. I mean, someone's waiting for their postcard from Botswana!

everything is connected

Somehow, everything is connected. My thoughts haven't all connected yet, today. See if you can follow a trail through this.

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First, I've been pondering a video I watched from leaders at Willow Creek Church. I often resent Willow Creek things, as I grow tired of hearing how we United Methodists can beat ourselves up because we're not like them. (As in, not drawing huge crowds. Not growing.) On bad days, I feel like we're about 15 years behind them--just now telling ourselves what we should do now that they tried back then.

So, I'm intrigued by these new questions they're raising today--about rethinking how we do church. They define the mission of their church much like the UMC's official mission: making disciples of Christ. They further definite that as helping people grow in love of God and in love of other people. (A pretty darn decent definition.) Their new realization is that all the programs of the church (worship, small groups, classes, caring programs, service opportunities) don't really help people grow in love of God and love of other people. In fact, the people who define their love of God and others as most central to their lives are least satisfied with church programs.

They're challenging us to definite discipleship as more than showing up at church. And our "job" as churches as more that putting splendid programs together.

Diana Butler Bass, whose work on the practices of our faith I've admired for quite a while, commented on this in a blog entry at Sojourners.

On good days, I'm aware that many of our old, tired "mainline" churches are still doing some of these things that really matter: allowing people to participate in growing a deep faith that will sustain and nourish them as their faith deepens. I hope we can hang on to that. Or find it anew. Maybe we can use it in partnership (even) with the Willow Creeks of the world.

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As a pastor, I feel really lucky to get to share moments of stirring honesty, reflection and hopefulness as I talk with folks willing to share their spiritual journeys with me. This week, I got to spend time with someone whose life and work I admire a whole lot--someone who really gets the "love God and love neighbor" thing. She's especially good at loving neighbors who are poor, and at choosing to offer herself to those who have suffered injustice.

She does this, though, separate from church. She's seen how churches can be. Her love of God, though, will not let her go, nor will her ever-growing love of neighbors.

And then I see people in my church--people who come regularly, and even have leadership. My heart breaks when I see them fall far short of the vision of divine love that's possible, and not even seem aware that they're missing out on anything.

I know, it's dangerous to judge. But this week, set next to these ideas from Willow Creek, I'm wondering how we fall so short in really giving the people who come to church a vision for the Kin-dom of God.

(I hear the words of one of our faculty members at the Youth Theology Institute back when I WAS a youth: "Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to McDonald's makes you a hamburger." And I want to figure out how to help.)

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Though I've never bought hamburger at the carniceria on the corner, I love their cow logo. It's detailed enough to feel elegant, and yet SO SIMPLE. It gives me pleasure as I turn onto my street.
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Just below it, though, is a "Water Center." Nowhere do I see as many "water centers" and water stores as in my poor neighborhood. It feels vaguely dirty to me that people are capitalizing on insecurities of water safety, in a neighborhood where so many immigrants come from places where there really is not safe drinking water in the tap or the well.
I want to live in a country where we know there is and will always be safe drinking water, readily available in taps in our homes and in drinking fountains on our streets and in our parks. I'm tired of the bottled water market telling us we need to buy plastic bottles of water. Too much plastic (and too much oil). To much transportation waste.

So I make a point of drinking from glasses filled straight from my tap, in my big kitchen window on the street. A witness for our water supply. And a prayer that we will invest in our increasingly dilapidated water system. Everyone should have access to safe drinking water.