No Escape

Yesterday I told the kids this story from my past:

After college, I toured with a Christian singing and drama group called The Agape Players.  During our summer training in Lake Wales, FL, we learned that our individual tour groups would be "like a family," riding a bus together for several hours each day.  I perceived a problem with that, because these were independent, fundamentalist, separatist Baptists - Billy Graham was too liberal for them.  The two-week seminar on the evils of "so-called Christian rock music" failed to convince me, but the co-founder of the organization assured me that she trusted me not to spread my false beliefs, so I proceeded with the program, reading Romans 14 multiple times each day ("let him who eats not despise the one who doesn't").

Once our tour group started up the East Coast, my frustrations grew.  After our nightly stay in host homes, we had thirty minutes of quiet time, then gathered for reflection.  Often one of the tour members would share, "My family seemed like a great Christian family, but then I saw" an Amy Grant album, a can of beer, or something else which would have disqualified my own family in his or her eyes.  The effort of biting my tongue became too much for my young mind, and I began to devise means of escaping.  I didn't think they would let me leave, so I plotted how I could sneak away and find my way to an airport, where my parents would have a ticket waiting.  My free time (thankfully, there wasn't much) was consumed with these thoughts and fears.

Finally, I called home to get my parents to buy this airplane ticket.  Mom informed me that Dad wasn't home, so I poured out the story to her.  Though sympathetic, she knew Dad would have to make a decision like that; I would have to call again the next night and she would make sure he was there.  After hearing the whole mess, Dad cleared his throat and said, "Well, Kari, you made a one-year commitment to Agape.  I don't think you should quit."  I hung up in despair and a couple of weeks later, we went through the same routine.  The second time I hung up, I knew there was no way my father was ever going to let me quit.  Interestingly enough, six weeks later, as we pulled into Florida for our Christmas break, I realized that I was happy.  I hadn't made a conscious decision to make the best of it, but apparently when I gave up the possibility of leaving, my mindset changed and I was able to brush off our disagreements and appreciate the many fine qualities of my fellow Players.  We keep in touch with five of them to this day.

You Never Know

Two weeks ago, one of the posts on Faceboook informed me that Lori Wilson had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the worst of all cancers.  I called Shelley, my college roommate and Lori's sister, a couple of days later; Lori was at the U of M getting a second opinion and information about her options.  Now Lori is back home, able to eat, full of faith, but facing an almost certain death in a matter of months, apart from a miracle.  Her daughter and fiance moved their wedding date to December 8 so Lori can attend.  She will never see a grandchild, a fiftieth wedding anniversary, a parent's funeral.  I can't imagine how distraught her parents are.  She's 50.

This weekend we celebrated Dad Stadem's 85th birthday in Sioux Falls with 4 of the 5 children, 14 of the 18 grandchildren, a niece and a great-nephew with their families.  His joy, and all of ours, overflowed as he watched an Augustana football game, received compliments and reminiscences, feasted on several hotdishes and a Norwegian birthday cake, listened to "Happy Birthday!" sung by his congregation, sipped coffee and munched on quick breads during coffee hour, and heard "God Didn't Give Me Much" sung by his family in the second worship service.  (That song isn't what the title implies!)

Why does one see all his children's children, and one see none?  We don't know; it's in God's hands.  But I want to hug those I love, live each day to the fullest, and "grow in faith, love and obedience to the will of God," because you never know how many days are left.

A Hoppin' Day at Svea

Svea was rockin' out yesterday!  Little Feather, a mime clown, graced our Family Sunday School hour with her version of making cupcakes.  The elementary age boys got quite a kick out of her silent misreading of the directions - "put in 6 eggs" meant shells on, of course, and "put in paper cups and bake in oven" resulted in the muffin cups thrown into the batter and the whole bowl in the imaginary oven.  When she pulled out a pan of cupcakes, one boy said, "You ARE magic!"

Callie played a fifteen-minute harp prelude, which enabled everyone to enter a worshipful attitude (except me   - I had to keep preparing for the various events).  Pete led worship because Pastor Mary's grandpa died.  He had the kids do a skit for the sermon - he was the governor hiring a chief of staff to represent him; David, Callie, Daniel, Andrew & Philip all arrogantly informed him of their superior qualifictions; Hannah, played by Sarah, humbly suggested that she would do her best because she believed in his cause - and was hired.  They improvised and provoked lots of laughter.  Then Pete wrapped it up by encouraging us all to trust God when we are brought low.  Good stories.  Jake gave a Temple Talk to tell us that we're in great financial condition.

Zach Sowers, on his 18th birthday, sang "Who Am I?"  which  fit in perfectly - he volunteered to sing it a couple of weeks ago, knowing nothing of the theme.  Thanks Lord!  After worship, we held a mini-recital.  Nina Thompson, granddaughter of Jan & Ed, played two pieces on the piano; Jordan sang "Danza, Danza" in Italian; Zach sang a piece and accompanied himself on electric guitar; Callie played a very fun and jazzy song called "Great Day" on the harp.

When all this was over, the Luther League families enjoyed a potluck and set some dates for future events.  We arrived home, Pete took a nap and packed up bikes, and Philip, Pete and I met the Sowers, Chambers and Johnsons at the high school for a bike ride to Spicer.  I had good visits with Patti, Dianne, Darla and Dean.  Ethan Johnson sped the entire distance on roller blades!

We parted from the Svea folk, watched the Vikings lose and had pizza at my folks', and Skyped with Michelle and Saul from 8:30-10.  What a day!  Praise the Lord!

I'm a Tea Diva!

About two weeks ago, I opened a new box of Good Earth tea and made myself a mug as usual.  My first sip puckered my mouth; what was this bitter taste?  I finished the mug reluctantly, assuming a bad bag had eluded quality control.  But the next mug, and the mug after that, caused procrastination and dismay.  What was wrong with my tea??  I supplemented with sugar and cinnamon, which helped me drink the whole mug but added an unpleasant aftertaste.

I bought two boxes at each of two different stores, thinking maybe quality control had missed a whole batch.  Every mug brought the same disappointment. A friend didn't notice any difference and enjoyed her mug, which puzzled me.  But when Pete tried it, he agreed, "There's definitely something different."  I limped through my days, dreading each sip but continuing to drink tea out of habit and a belief in the importance of getting water into my system.

At the church, I used a bag which had been in my purse.  The tea was good!  Later that day, at my parents' house, another bag from the purse produced the same result.  I thought perhaps it was the water, since the farm had switched wells about the time this whole ordeal began.  So I brought a bag from home and used the church water to brew a new mug, hoping against hope that this would solve the problem.  It didn't.

Finally I called Good Earth's number and spoke with a young man who blithely vowed that they changed their recipe about a year ago, and the boxes with 18 tea bags had "artificial flavors" as an ingredient, while the boxes with 25 bags had the old recipe of "natural flavors" as an ingredient.  His unrepentant manner irritated me and I pressed him a little, hoping for at least an apology or a coupon, but he just continued to assure me that I needed to find the boxes with 25 bags.

Pete and I searched the stores of Willmar over the next few days, finding no boxes with 25 bags of Good Earth tea.  Sure enough, all the boxes we found had "artificial flavors" listed as the third ingredient.  I found 25-bag boxes online at the Good Earth site and ordered a bunch, afraid to expect the best but wanting to continue to drink tea.  They arrived within a few days, with "natural flavors" listed as the third ingredient.  I fearfully poured the water over the bag in the mug, waited ten minutes, gingerly tasted it, and  - smiled in delight!  The delicious taste of Good Earth original tea filled my mouth.

I'm not sure what to make of all this.  Certainly it's a symptom of a massively wealthy culture.  But I'm very grateful to once again drink mug after mug of delicious sweet and spicy tea throughout my day.