Updates - Since I've been absent for awhile....

I know that I don't have many readers but.... for those who actually do check my blog here... I apologize for my lack of posts in the last few  months.  I really don't have a great excuse for my absence other than the fact that I just haven't felt like writing and I haven't felt like I've had anything of note to write about.

I'm working as a substitute teacher again this year after applying to a ridiculous number of schools this summer and yet still not being able to secure a teaching position.  I even applied as a school secretary at a few different schools!  I had a total of two interviews despite the enormous number of schools that I applied to- one for a one year teaching position at the school that I have poured a ton of work into long term subbing and daily subbing and one for a secretarial position at a middle school five minutes down the street from where we live.  Needless to say - I did not get either job even though I made it to the second round of interviews.  Talk about frustrating but I guess it's just more water under the bridge.  This is my 6th year as a "professional" sub.  

Hubby is still enjoying his job but his contract was re-bid which has resulted in a significant pay cut for us - not something either of us were happy about.  His coworkers seem to be rushing to "get out of Dodge."  I am counting our blessings though that he still HAS a job because I have no desire to go back to where we were last year at this time.

I can't believe it's been almost a year since we have lived here and almost a year and half since Hubby ETSed.  In some ways the time has flown and in others it has dragged.  I feel like we are just now finally beginning to feel settled here.  We had started to look at buying a house this summer but in light of the above developments we have put that on hold for now.  

Sometimes I feel like we are in a holding pattern- waiting to be able to move on to the next stage of our lives? IE: When will I finally get a teaching job if ever? Is it time to start a family? When will we buy a house? ect.  It's not that I'm in a hurry for things to change or to move on from where we are.  I think this feeling of of being "stuck" is mostly related to my job frustration but I am trying to stay positive.  After all, everything happens for a reason and if you look at our history, I have actually been blessed not to have a job as it has given us a lot more flexibility.  I can't help but wonder what our future holds though.  Where will we be in 5 years?  Will we have 2.5 children a house and a dog?  Who knows.  In the meantime sometimes it's fun to speculate. 

Floods, Fires, and People Who Know Nothing

I realize that I have been radio silent for awhile but the last few days of January and the month of February has been full of mishaps and frustrations. In an effort to keep myself from ranting too badly I decided to wait to post about them until I could laugh about them a little.

Floods

I guess January went out with a bang or should I say a burst. A burst of water that is. Where I live, it seems like we either have no rain or torrential downpours. There doesn't seem to be such a thing as "gentle" or light rain. The rain began a few hours before I went to bed. It was heavy but I wasn't overly concerned because there were no severe weather listings on my go to weather source, weather.com, or on the news.

Apparently that changed in a hurry after I decided to go to bed. I awoke around 2am to the sound of a storm right on top of my house. The thunder boomed so loud that every picture on my wall seemed to rattle and I feared they would fall off and come crashing to the floor. The lightning lit up my room eerily and cast ghostly shadows around my bedroom. I lay awake listening to the storm and found myself unable to go back to sleep. I had a nagging feeling that something was wrong; something other than the possibility of my pictures falling off the wall.

I dragged my butt out of bed and threw on a a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve T-shirt. Walking around the house, nothing seemed out of place but the nagging feeling remained. I grabbed my Tablet and pulled up weather.com to see what they were saying about the storm.  That's when I noticed a warning about an approaching torrent of golf ball sized hail.

I had left the car parked in the driveway because it was covered in bird poop and I was hoping the rain would wash it off.  Worried about hail damage I decided I had better pull it into the garage.  I grabbed a coat from the closet, pulled up the hood, and grabbed the first pair of shoes that I could see.  I realized my outfit probably looked ridiculous but at at two in the morning I didn't think anyone would notice.  I grabbed the keys and rain out into the pouring rain.

I stepped out of the door, right into a freezing cold puddle.  Ugh... Awesome.  I slogged my way down to the driveway.  It was completely flooded. My driveway points downward on a hill towards my house and at least a foot of water was swirling and gurgling around the garage door.  The grate that is supposed to drain the water just could not keep up with the downpour.  In that instant a sinking feeling told me that there was probably water in the garage... The nagging feeling that something was wrong told me I was right.

I stood there for a minute trying to decide what to do.  I still wanted to pull in the car.  I figured that the water in the garage was probably less than the water on the driveway and I really did not want hail dents in our one year old car.  I also wanted to know if water was in the garage because if so I would need to rescue some boxes we have stored in there because our garage had never flooded while the basement had in the past.

I opened the garage door.  Water had already leaked inside and the boxes and furniture were wet but when I opened the door the problem had become ten times worse.  All of the water that had been pooled on the driveway rushed in with a vengeance.  I quickly pulled in the car and shut the door to prevent any more water from getting in.  The water covered my shoe but at least it wasn't up to my ankle like the driveway water.  I turned on the light and began trying to "rescue" our stuff.  The basement was still dry, go figure, so I moved everything there.  Everything was soaked. Speakers, boxes, a desk, our Christmas tree, and a really nice refrigerator my parents had given us.  CRAP. 

I have no idea how I did it; how I moved everything into the basement myself.  I even managed to move the fridge.  There was no way I could lift it over the step up to my basement doorway.  I pushed it over to the the door and pulled it towards me into the basement onto its side.  Later I would wonder where I found the strength to do this alone.  I am chalking it up to one of those things where you gut a surge of adrenaline under pressure and can do super human feats.

I shut the basement door and decided to hope for the best until morning.  Only problem was when I went to lift the garage door to go back into the house, I realized that when I had closed it, it had somehow become locked.  I have no idea how this happened since you have to physically turn a knob on the outside to make it lock but maybe the pressure of the water coupled with the force of the door closing triggered it?  I have no idea.

So there I was.  Trapped in my garage and I was beginning to panic.  I was soaking wet and I took several deep breaths to try to keep myself from freaking out.  OK, you can figure this out.  I said to myself.  I pulled up as hard as I could...the door barely budged.  Did I really think that was going to work? No, but in my state of panic I was hoping for a miracle. 

I was completely trapped in the garage.  To make matters worse... It was by this time 3 in the morning, still pouring, I was soaking wet, freezing, and I realized that the windows in the basement had been nailed shut.  On top of that, I had pulled the car into the garage so no one would even think to look for me.  They would assume that I wasn't home.  AND, my cell phone was in my bedroom.  I hadn't though to grab it since I was just going to be running out to pull in the car.

Panic rising I prayed out loud again and again, "Dear God, please help me to get out of this garage!"  I didn't know what to do.  I found the directions to the garage door tapped to the door.  Unfortunately they only explained not to let children play with it.  Not how to unlock it from the inside.  Go figure.  They didn't even show to to take it apart.  I briefly considered running the car through it.  I knew it would damage the car but I had to get out of the garage.  I pulled at the door desperately trying to get it to open.  Eventually I figured out that the bar of the locking mechanism could be bent.  I was able to bend it just enough to force it up one notch which allowed the door to to open enough for me to crawl out under it.  Unfortunately this also meant crawling through a foot of water so now I was really really really soaked and freezing cold.

From the outside of the garage I put the door back down all of the way and trudged back inside hoping for the best and deciding to let the rest be until morning.  By this time it was about 3:45 am.  I had a doctor's appointment in just a few hours time.

I stripped off all of my soaked clothes and left the sopping shoes at the door.  I needed a shower.  I was covered with mud thanks for the fact that I have no grass and so the dirt had flooded onto the driveway with the water.  I took a quick shower and crawled into bed for a few last hours of sleep.

The next morning after my appointment (which I had walked to) I opened the garage to discover that the water inside had completely receded.  But it had left a a wet muddy mess in its place.  I pulled the car back onto the now drying driveway.  Thankfully, the rain had stopped. 

I spent the majority of the day dragging wet cardboard to the curb and trying to dry things out and clean up the mud.  My back was not thanking me for my efforts.  It took three days for the garage to dry out completely.  Then came the task of moving everything back into it from the basement.

Thank God for Helpful Neighbors

I began moving things back into the garage but the fridge was blocking the way of moving anything large.  I could not budge it an inch.  I have no idea how I moved it in the first place.  I needed help.  With Hubby gone I wasn't sure who to ask.  I finally opted for my next door neighbor.  The neighbor across the street had essentially shut the door in my face when I had gone to bring over a batch of congo bars to welcome them to the neighborhood but thankful the couple next door is really nice.

I knew the soldier's wife was on a trip away from home and I felt bad asking for his help but I didn't know anyone else who I felt could help me move my ridiculously heavy fridge.  I sheepishly knocked on the door and asked if he would mind giving me a hand.  A bit to my surprise he enthusiastically ran out to help.  He didn't even hesitate.  God bless him.  He helped me move the fridge back, although he admitted it was heavy and even offered to help me with everything else.  I took him up on the offer to move a few of the heavier boxes and thanked him several times.  I brought him a plate of cookies the following day. 

It wasn't until a few weeks later that I felt confident enough to plug the fridge in to see if it still worked.  Thank goodness it does. 

Crisis averted I hoped that would be the worst thing I would have to deal with for awhile.  Unfortunately a week later the garage had water again.  At least this time it only made it a few feet inside so it didn't get anything important wet a second time.

Fire

After the flooding issues I had pretty much had it and wanted to hide out from everyone.  I just didn't feel like being social.  I was relaxing on the couch one night watching TV when all of the sudden, I smelled something burning.  It smelled like burnt pizza.  It was 11:30pm.  I hadn't even used the stove to cook dinner.  I searched the entire house including the basement and garage for the source of what I assumed had to be a fire.  Everything seemed normal.  In an effort not to freak out I called May.  I am so thankful to have her.  Who else could I call at absurd hours of the night?  She told me to call the housing office and have them come out to look at it.  Something  burning it not something to mess around with and I agreed with her.

In an effort NOT to bore you to tears I'll make a long story shorter and tell you that I spent at least an hour on the phone trying to get a hold of somebody and then it took an hour or so for that somebody to come out to my house.  Needless to say it was 2:30 by the time the guy had left my house... He couldn't even find anything wrong.  Fortunately the smell has dissipated and I felt OK knowing that he had checked  everywhere.  At least he had smelled it too when he arrived so I knew I wasn't crazy.  He told me it had probably been cause by the fog.  Fog causes burning smells? 

People Who Know Nothing

A few days later I was trying to gather our tax paperwork.  After going through it with Hubby we figured out that we were just missing two documents and that both happen to be from companies that he used to have student loans with; loans that we had paid off last year and should be getting a tax deduction for.  Hubby had called both of these companies while he was home on leave to request the appropriate forms but I wasn't surprised that they had not followed through.  Feeling bad that Hubby has little time to deal with this stuff and because of the time difference overseas, I offered to call the companies to request the forms again.

One company had an automatic request system. No problem.

The second company however was less than helpful.  The first representative told me that my husband was nowhere to be found in the system and that I must have the wrong number.  Taking a deep breath I told her that this number was on every single statement and letter that we have concerning this particular loan including the letter we received to confirm that the account had been paid off.  She asked me if I was sure.  No, I thought to myself, I'm just looking at it.  I read her what the letterhead said but she still insisted our account did not exist as a past or present customer.  I asked to speak to another representative.  The jerky woman who clearly knew nothing informed me that I could but they all work from the same system.  She then put me on hold... for 20 minutes.

I was getting more than annoyed. I  hung up and called back.  This time I got a different representative.  This woman could not find us in the system either but after putting me on hold twice and having me give her our information time and time again she finally found the records.  I had been on the phone for over 45 minutes.  I then asked her if she could please send us the required tax form.  She informed me that she couldn't because I was not authorized to do anything on the account.  Seriously?  I didn't even ask for any info.  I PROVIDED all of the info.  All I wanted was for a tax form to be sent to the address they already had on file.  She told me that if I faxed a copy of my POA that I could call back in a week or two to request the form again.  It's a good thing that I wasn't taking to her in person.  I might have decked her one. 

Poor hubby had to call because I was to pissed to deal with the situation and did not want to wait two weeks just to "request" the form.  He was told that we have to wait a minimum of 17 days just for the request to be processed. 

So, in conclusion...  it has been a rough month.  Did I mention that the DVD player in my bedroom stopped working and the TV in our living room seems to be on the blink?  Sigh... hurry home Hubby.  I miss you :(

Cradle Restoration

For those that follow my blog, you may recall that one of the projects that I embarked on when my husband left was the restoration of a cradle that my father had built for me when I was born.  Let me reiterate that NO, I am not expecting a baby now or anytime very soon, but my father gave me the cradle since I DO plan to have children sometime in the future and I figured that now was a good time to go about fixing it since a) I have the time and b) I don't need it just yet so there is no pressure to get it done so I can take my time. 

Since the cradle was built, twenty-five years ago, I have to admit that it has taken a lot of abuse from my younger sister and I.  I don't mean the few months that we each slept in it but rather the years after when we played with it and pounded on it as we played with our dolls and stuffed animals.  Still, it is a beautiful piece, in my opinion, and it holds a special place in my heart because my father actually built it.  How many people can say that?  

When I brought it to my house back in May, it wasn't in terrible shape but it needed some love.  It was missing two of the four knobs that once adorned the four corners and had a few cracks in the wood.  The mattress is still in great shape.  After all my sister and I only slept on it for a couple of months a piece and it looks almost new.  I figured all it needed was a bit of time and elbow grease (figuratively speaking) to fix it up.

When Hubby left in June I set about starting the project.  It was a project that I was very interested in and it kept my mind off Hubby's absence, at least for couple of hours a day.  The first step of the project was to find some replacement knobs for the two that had over the years and several moves (this thing endured not just the abuse of two small children but also seven moves) had somehow disappeared.   I feel like the fact that it survived so much says something about my Dad's workmanship.  Kudos to you Dad!  While showing its age, this is a fairly sturdy piece!. 

I wasn't expecting it to be difficult to find replacement knobs.  Think again.  The hardware stores only carried drawer knobs which were much to small or finials which were all pointy (way dangerous for a baby.)  I was slightly discouraged but a kindly employee at one of the hardware stores suggested trying a craft store.  I struck out at the first one but hit pay dirt at the second.  They didn't have the perfectly round wooden balls that my dad had used but they did have what they were calling "wooden doll heads."  These "doll heads" were almost round but had a flat edge on the bottom and already had a hole drilled in for a screw.  They also happened to be the right size.  OK, so they were not entirely round but after talking to my dad he said that he recommended replacing all four knobs anyway so they would all perfectly match and he said that the flat side would actually make it easier to put them on the cradle.  It was a bonus that I would not have to drill a hole into each one.  I  had found what I thought would be the perfect solution! I bought four and drove home feeling triumphant.

Since my new knobs were "naked" my next step was to find a stain that matched the existing stain that my dad had used on the body of the cradle.  For this I enlisted my father's help since he would have a clue as to what wood and color he had originally used.  After a brief trip to Lowe's I came back armed with a small can of Minwax stain, a small can of Minwax polyurethane varnish (to seal the stain and give the wood a shine), and a few foam brushes to apply both products, and some sandpaper.  My dad was kind enough to give me a metal tool called a "key" to open the cans. 

It took me a week to stain and apply polyurethane to the knobs.  It was a long process since I had to wait 8-12 hours between coats of stain.  I went back to Lowe's and picked up some wood putty (I'll get to this in a minute) and some double ended screws to attach the knobs.  I then proceeded to attach each freshly stained knob to a screw.

Unfortunately I could not screw the knobs onto the cradle yet.  When my sister and I were little one of the things that we liked to do was to turn the knobs over and over.  The result was that the original holes in the cradle had been widened so much that two were the width of a finger.  Obviously this was much to big for the new screw.  This is where the wood putty came in.  I pressed putty into each of the four holes to seal them up so that I could create  new tighter holes for the new knobs.  This process again took a week or so because I had to wait for the putty to harden and in some cases I had to fill the holes up a second time because the putty shrank as it dried.  I also took the opportunity to repair a crack in the wood that I had noticed on one of the side panels.  This was a battle scar from one of the moves but after the wood putty it was as good as new.

The next step was to give the body of the cradle a fresh coat of varnish.  I sanded the cradle down first and applied a few coats of stain and varnish.  Then all I had to do was screw on the new knobs and it looked great!

At this point I could have been finished but I decided that I wanted to get a sheet to cover the mattress.  The mattress has cute little pictures on it but I wanted a sheet so that the cradle would be immediately usable whenever the time came.  You would think that this would be a simple matter of going to Target or Babies R Us but apparently cradles are no longer popular.  Bassinet sheets and crib sheets can be found almost anywhere but try to find a cradle sheet and you are out of luck.  Bummer.  I did find a few on Amazon but they were a minimum of $20 a piece for one fitted sheet and the fabrics seemed cheap.  Fortunately, I am competent with the use of a sewing machine.  I decided that I could probably make one.  How hard could it be?

I went to Walmart and bought a simple blue cotton twin flat sheet for $4 and some elastic.  (I think blue is pretty for a boy or a girl and it matches the blankets I had as a baby which my mom gave me.) This was cheaper than buying fabric from Joann's and the fabric was thicker and well perfect for a sheet since that was what it was for. 

At this point,  I stopped the project for several weeks.  I was a little intimidated by my sheet project and put it off.  This week when I embarked on my sewing spree I felt ambitious enough to pick it back up.  After reading a few tutorials online (thanks fellow bloggers!) from moms who had made their own crib sheets I felt confident enough to scale down their directions and make my cradle sheet.  To make a long story short I was able to make two double thickness fitted cradle sheets from the one twin sheet.  I wanted them double thickness so that they would be more absorbent and also so that the pattern on the mattress would not show through the sheet.  By following one of the online tutorials I was even able to make french seams on the corners so that the raw edges would never fray and the two sheets fit perfectly!  I have to admit, I am a little impressed with how they turned out.  In fact, I think they seem better quality than some of the crib sheets that I saw in Target.  Not to mention, that I made both sheets for under $6.  You can't beat that price!  If anyone wants more information on how I made the sheet (if you want to make your own) let me know.  I would be happy to give more details but I didn't want to bore anyone!

My cradle restoration is finally done and I am very happy with how it has turned out.  The cradle is beautiful and the sheet adds that final finishing touch.  My favorite feature of the cradle is the way that it gently rocks side to side.  Looking at it I can picture myself laying a baby in it one day and being proud to tell my future child one day that his or her grandfather made the cradle that he or she slept in.

Bottom of my cradle sheet

Fitted cradle sheet corner

Finished Product :)

Peter Makes Me Feel Better About My Own Shortcomings

See my previous post for the sermon that I am discussing here.

I love the way Ellie begins this sermon because I think almost everyone has a similar memory of learning to ride a bike.  I know that my own memory of my father teaching me is very similar.  By using this example I feel like she made the Bible passage more accessible for me. 

I really connected with how Ellie describes the relationship between Jesus and Peter.  I love the way she says "I don’t think Jesus asks Peter about his doubts because he is judging Peter’s lack of faith or shaming him for being weak in the midst of the wind and the waves. Jesus knows all to well Peter’s limitations as a human being. He himself came into the world to live and to feel and to know that part of the human experience has to do with limitations, our limited vision and capacity, our propensity to forget God’s goodness, God’s faithfulness when we are in a dark and lonely wilderness. Jesus knows this all too well because he is one of us. I think Jesus asks Peter why he doubted because he wants to help Peter learn something important in this moment."

As a teacher myself I agree with Ellie's interpretation of this "teaching moment."  I like the idea that Jesus is not "calling Peter out."  He is not punishing Peter for doubting but instead showing him that he will be there no matter what happens EVEN if and when Peter doubts.  Peter makes me feel better about myself because I know that I too have many shortcomings and often doubt God's plan when life gets difficult.  It is easy to believe in God's Divine plan and presence when things are going well but it is not so easy to keep this faith when life seems dark and the challenges before us threaten to overwhelm us.  I often feel like Peter.  However I now realize that this is OK.  God is not going to judge me for doubting him.  Instead he will forgive me because he knows that as humans we are wired to doubt.  This is not to give us an excuse but to say that doubt is something that we as humans will always struggle against. 

When I spoke to Ellie about her sermon I explained to her how glad I was that she had chosen to talk about Peter and told her that I too am now thankful for Peter because he makes me feel better about my own mistakes.  Ellie went on to remind me that many of the apostles were imperfect people.  Many of them did horrible things before they came to Jesus.  For example, Paul, was responsible for the persecution and deaths of many Christians before coming to Jesus.  However in spite all of the imperfections that his followers had, Jesus was able to turn them into something wonderful.  He was able to use their shortcoming to teach them about his way and forgave them for their mistakes no matter how terrible they may have been.  In the same way I believe that if we let Jesus help us, he can turn our doubts, our mistakes, and our sins into a life that means something and is spent helping people to make our world a better place.

Patient Hope Revisited

Those who regularly read my blog may recall my post a few weeks ago about my chaplain friend's semon entitled Patient Hope.  I have recieved many interested comments about my post and her sermon so I asked my friend (who from here on out I will refer to as Ellie) and she agreed to send me the text of the sermon and to let me post it here for you.  Enjoy!

Rev. Ellie at Main Post Chapel

July 17, 2011

Romans 8:12-25

Patient Hope

Listen to these last two verses from Romans once more. “For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”

A couple weeks ago, a friend sent me a book entitled While There’re at War. The book’s author, Kristin Henderson, is the wife of a Navy chaplain. She gives an account of her own experience, waiting for her husband while he was deployed to Afghanistan and Iraq during the initial invasions early on in the wars. In addition to some of her own reflections as a military spouse, she follows the experiences of a group of women in Fayetteville who call themselves “the Hooah Wives.” Throughout their husband’s deployments, the Hooah Wives stick together, helping each other survive the months and months of loneliness and fear. The stories that she tells may sound familiar to many of us. From the good-bye scene on the Green Ramp, to nerve wracking hours of waiting for green suiters to knock on the door with earth shattering news, sleepless nights, anxious days, and always this distant hope that one day, their loved one will come home alive and well.

Preparing for this sermon and reading Paul’s letter to the Romans about creation suffering as it waits for restoration, my mind kept wandering back to that time period of waiting which many face when a loved one is deployed. Those who are left at home to wait approach this difficult season in a variety of ways, some healthy and some destructive. We have heard and seen and even experienced the ways that people cope with the stress of deployment. Working longer hours in order to stay busy or joining a faith community in order to find support and care during this vulnerable time are some of the more healthy coping mechanisms some spouses choose. On the opposite end of the spectrum, others may fall into addictions to alcohol or drugs or even extra-marital affairs. The book takes time to discuss each of these, not from a place of judgement but instead from a position of compassion. Waiting is one of the most difficult tasks we are ever called to do. It is not surprising that in the process of waiting, many of us stumble and sometimes even fall.

Unfortunately, seasons of waiting are not something that we can avoid, even when we try to run away from their clutches. How we wait, our posture while waiting, this might be worth exploring. I entitled my sermon “Patient Hope.” I did this much earlier in the week, and honestly, it was just the first thing that popped in my head when I read the scripture. I wasn’t even sure what I meant when I wrote it. But throughout the week, as I considered Patient Hope, an idea started to emerge. We all have to wait in one season or another, but it is how we wait that reveals our faithfulness. We can wait in hope or we can wait in dread. Both are among our available choices, yet how we wait determines the quality of our relationship with God and with one another.

For years, instead of living with Patient Hope, I lived with a kind of patient dread. That’s not to say that I wasn’t a seemingly happy person who enjoyed life and friends, but secretly, I was constantly waiting with dread. Much of my posture in waiting had to do with my brother who was diagnosed with mental illness and drug addiction while I was away at college. Four states were a great buffer between the reality of my brother’s illness and me. Yet, I lived daily with dread that as matters deteriorated more and more at home, I would one day get the call that someone had died, either my brother from overdose or tragic accident or one of my parents caught in the cross-fire of his rage and violence. The days between calls from home were spent in patient dread as I prepared myself for the worst. And, with my patient dread, came a kind of closing in. I folded my arms around my heart, putting up invisible walls which might protect me from any more heartbreak.

Living with patient dread makes sense sometimes. The reality of our situations may lend to this kind of protective posture. Replacing our dread with hope may seem nearly impossible. Most of us have known the sting of disappointment. We know the pain which accompanies all the kinds of hurt which we might face in our lives: the death of a spouse, breaches of trust because of infidelity or dishonest behavior, the tragic news of an illness, wanting to be a parent, but not being able to have children or having a child who faces sickness and even death. The list could go on. With all these possibilities, waiting with dread is not a surprising response to life’s events.  After all, the whole creation has been groaning. How and when will we be set free from this bondage to decay? How and when will we obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God?

The problem with dread is that it is a silent killer. It turns us in on ourselves. As we groan inwardly, as we protect ourselves from the pain, we also become insulated to the gifts of life which keep us healthy. The good gifts of love and friendship and joy and blessing, they have no way to penetrate our walls. Before we are aware, dread, and all that comes with it, become our expectation. We become stuck in this posture, and we don’t believe that there is any other way to live.

It’s easy for me to say that Patient Hope is the answer but it’s harder put it into practice when we are in the midst of life’s storms. But, when we read the good news, and we look at the cross, we see what waiting in hope really looks like. Jesus’ life and ministry was all about Patient Hope. As he waited to see and experience what the world would do with him, he did so with a posture of hope, arms always opened wide, welcoming the stranger, the little one, the sinner, even when arms wide open would risk his reputation, his family and friends and eventually his life. On my desk at home, I have a hand carved crucifix. A friend brought it to me when I was living in Cape Town. I must admit, it was a little off putting at first. The crown of thorns, the nails in his hands, the ravaged face and body hanging by mere threads of life. I didn’t know where to put it because I didn’t want to scare people who came over to visit me with this almost two foot depiction of Christ dying on the cross prominently displayed in my living room. We Protestants don’t spend a lot of our time in the presence of the crucifixion. Our crosses leave much to the imagination. This week, though, looking at Jesus on the cross, I couldn’t help but think that this was the ultimate statement of Patient Hope. No walls of protection, no attempt to avoid the pain or disappointment. Just arms wide open, waiting with hope that death would not have the final say.

Paul writes to the Romans, “But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But, if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” It feels like Paul is saying this... If it has come to easily. If it’s not a big deal. If you feel that you already have it, already understand it fully, then you have missed the boat altogether. For Paul, hope, resurrection hope, doesn’t come haphazardly. It is not something to throw around or put on display. Resurrection hope is so powerful that on some days, it brings us to our knees with tears that spring to our eyes as much from our pain as from our joy and gratitude. Resurrection hope is what I like to call a painful gift. It is something so wonderful that we have no choice but to accept and embrace it. But, with saying yes to the gift, we also say yes to the risks and the heartache which cannot be avoided when we have our arms wide open.

Living in Patient Hope transforms us from our inward groaning as we wait for God to restore us. Each day, each moment that we wait in hope, rather than wait in dread, we open our arms just a little more, moving toward the posture which Jesus has shown us in his life and death, which Jesus shows us even now. When we live in Patient hope, we witness that resurrection is not just something that happened thousands of years ago, but it is something that happens every day. From the dust and ashes of our broken lives, God breathes life anew. Even the oldest bones, the greatest chasm, the deepest hurt, the darkest night are not beyond God’s restoration. Just because we can’t see or conceive of it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t possible through God’s grace and love.

It’s hard to wait in hope for something that we can’t see. It’s hard, on this journey of life, to hope when we don’t know all the dangers we may meet upon the road... will we hurt or feel alone, will we live life to its fullest, or will we have regrets? Even when we don’t know all the details, we do know the end of the story. We know what we have been promised.. restoration and fullness.. and we also know that God has promised to be there with us.

We follow a savior who has his arms wide open. All we need to do to remember this is look  at the cross. Jesus lived with patient hope, arms ready to embrace the muck and mess instead of push it all away. It cost him his life, yet that was not his end. Nor is it ours. Through Christ, with Christ, and in Christ, we wait with Patient Hope. May it be so, today, tomorrow, and always. Amen.

*Posted with permisson from Ellie.  I have not edited or changed her sermon in any way other than changing her name.

Alternative Use For Vegtable Oil.... Who Knew?!

As you know I have been working on restoring a wooden baby cradle that my father made for me when I was a baby.  I'm doing great on the project and have made a ton of progress.  In fact, I am fairly close to being done.  Today I went over the entire cradle with a fresh coat of polyurethane and when it dries it will only need one more coat to finish it up and the knobs screwed on.

As I painted on the polyurethane I managed to get some on my arm.  Yes I was wearing gloves but I managed to get up above the glove when I reached under the body of the cradle to reach the rocker underneath.  I probably should have been wearing long sleeves to do this project but it was around 104 degrees out today so I wasn't really seeing that as a viable option so I decided to just go for it. 

This isn't my first time using the stuff.  For the past few weeks I have been working on painting the knobs to the cradle and last time got it all over my fingers (that time I hadn't worn gloves - lesson learned.)  It made my fingers perpetually sticky and nothing I tried seemed to get it off.  I even tried Comet bleach.  I eventually got it off using the Comet, massive amounts of hand scrub/exfoliator, and basically scrubbing my skin off.  The next day I went to Lowe's to find out how to properly remove it for the next time I managed to get it all over myself.  Their solution was to use paint thinner or mineral spirits (basically very similar to paint thinner.)  Yeah... I am so not pouring paint thinner on my hands.

After not being to thrilled with what Lowe's had to say I went to Google and asked the web for alternative suggestions.  After an hour or so of reading/researching I found a few posts from moms saying that they had used vegetable oil which is then easily washed off with regular soap to remove the sticky polyurethane substance.

When I got the sticky paint all over my arm today I was less than pleased with myself and was not looking forward to repeating the skin scrubbing experience.  Then I remembered what I had read about the vegetable oil and figured I would try it.  I didn't have much to lose and if it worked it would be much better than the alternative so I figured why not?

I grabbed the vegetable oil out of the cabinet.  I keep it on hand because I use it for baking and for making waffles on lazy Saturday mornings.  I poured some into my hand and rubbed it all over my arm where the polyurethane had already dried into a sticky patch.  After rubbing the oil all over the area I proceeded to wash it all off with regular hand soap at the kitchen sink.  

Sure enough not only did the oil wash right off but all traces of the sticky polyurethane were gone.  To boot my skin was left soft feeling instead of raw and red from scrubbing and the entire process took less than five minutes.  I was thrilled.  Who knew you could use ordinary vegetable oil to painlessly get sticky paint off your skin???  AWESOME!!  Thank you Google moms!!

Tool Box Update

So after all of that trouble and being so excited about my new purple tool box it looks like the silly thing is to small.  It really isn't much bigger than the box I already have.  What a bummer and so frustraing.  ARG  I guess I have to take it back to the store and start all over again. GRRRRR  Go Figure.