In October, Linda informed me that due to her granddaughter's cancer, she might have to bow out of directing this year's church youth group musical for the dinner theater. Sure enough, Lois talked to me the first week of January and we agreed that Pete would direct the drama and I would, as usual, take care of the music.
Several concerns raised by this decision are:
1. How will the kids respond to the change in directing style between Linda and Pete?
2. How will Pete know everything that needs to be done outside of the play?
3. How will Pete and I and Lois get along?
4. What play will we do, and who will have what parts?
We chose the play, "Frankenpastor," and assigned the parts last week. We also set the dates, for March 8-10. At our first rehearsal on Wednesday, the first and second questions were answered satisfactorily. The kids can see that Pete knows what he's doing and will respond accordingly. Laurie assured us that the parents will take care of the meal, decorating, tickets, programs and everything except the play itself. She was heading to a parents meeting with a folder in hand, so I assume she knows what needs to be done. We'll just relax and forget about all that. The dinner theater is always a wonderful example of the Body of Christ working together and using all the gifts, talents and skills of its members.
Pete and I are getting along fine through the first stage of rewriting the music and writing new music. Six years ago, for our first musical, "The Return," I had to write all new music in about ten days. This show poses a comparable challenge, as the fourteen songs are necessary for length. Several of them cannot be done by our group because of range, ability or appropriateness of the accompaniment. All are new lyrics written to pop tunes, which means sheet music or karaoke tracks have to be found or I have to figure out the accompaniment by ear. As usual, I have to make practice mp3s for the kids to listen to so they can learn the music because we won't have enough rehearsals for memorization.
No wonder I'm a little stressed out this week! Thanks, kids, for filling in around the house. We'll get through this!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
The Latest Cat Saga
For a couple of months, we've been complaining about the cats. In August 2011, Philip got two kittens from the Christopher family, naming them Toby and Tico. Turned out Toby was the girl and Tico the boy, but that didn't bother him. In fact, he was inspired to build a scratching post,
a cat house and a catwalk around the roof of the garage. They were sweet and cute and playful and spent some time indoors (a first for our farm family), and Toby started showing signs of expecting more kittens in the spring. While we vacationed in California, she gave birth - possibly to only one kitten, possibly to more who didn't live. Inbreeding, I suspected. Naranja, an (obviously) orange kitten, was sweet and cute and playful. Philip had lots of fun with him, as Tico had disappeared in a tomcat sort of way (he showed up once with a bullet in his leg, but once he could hop and leap about with only three legs, he was gone again). Soon Toby looked like a pregnant mama once again. We were not thrilled.
A few days before David's wedding, Naranja started acting very strangely, having what looked like seizures or choking. Within ten minutes he died in a crying Philip's arms. We buried him, consoled by the kittens to come. While we celebrated with the happy couple in North Dakota, the kittens arrived - five of them! They were sweet and cute and playful, but there were so many. Philip manfully named them all - Huck, Rex, Smoky, Gypsy and Padfoot.
We dealt with the litter training and taming - they really were fun. By bringing them to a 4-H meeting, we managed to give away two of the females, leaving us with Rex and Smoky, males; and female Gypsy. Philip decided he wanted to keep one kitten and Toby; we decided they would be fixed, so no more kittens would be spawned. At first we planned to keep Gypsy, but Rex soon endeared himself to us as a calmer, friendlier cat, so we settled on him. Alas, it was not to be.
On Wednesday, Pete and I returned from a meeting at church to find the dogs barking at Rex. Whether Rex was being a male and bristling, whether the dogs smelled something else on him, or whether there was some other explanation, we don't know. Pete drove to the mailbox, and when he parked in the garage, he heard Rex meowing under the van. Did the dogs shake him and break his spine, or did he race under the vehicle and get run over? In either case, he had no control over his hind section. He didn't appear to be in pain as he quietly lay in the laundry room, and died about an hour later, as Pete was preparing to put him down.
Philip and I cried over Rex, and realized that we really don't want to see the cats dead, as we had been joking about. We're not complaining about the cats now. How often we take things for granted, when nothing is for certain in this life. Thanks be to God that He is certain, and so is the next life!
A few days before David's wedding, Naranja started acting very strangely, having what looked like seizures or choking. Within ten minutes he died in a crying Philip's arms. We buried him, consoled by the kittens to come. While we celebrated with the happy couple in North Dakota, the kittens arrived - five of them! They were sweet and cute and playful, but there were so many. Philip manfully named them all - Huck, Rex, Smoky, Gypsy and Padfoot.
On Wednesday, Pete and I returned from a meeting at church to find the dogs barking at Rex. Whether Rex was being a male and bristling, whether the dogs smelled something else on him, or whether there was some other explanation, we don't know. Pete drove to the mailbox, and when he parked in the garage, he heard Rex meowing under the van. Did the dogs shake him and break his spine, or did he race under the vehicle and get run over? In either case, he had no control over his hind section. He didn't appear to be in pain as he quietly lay in the laundry room, and died about an hour later, as Pete was preparing to put him down.
Philip and I cried over Rex, and realized that we really don't want to see the cats dead, as we had been joking about. We're not complaining about the cats now. How often we take things for granted, when nothing is for certain in this life. Thanks be to God that He is certain, and so is the next life!
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Lies We Believe
A recently-divorced friend (call her Peggy, since I have no friends by that name) posted on Facebook, "I read that my kids will remember my attitude more than the things I tried to teach them. It made me cry, because my kids had me during the worst years of my life, when I was a stressed-out, depressed person. That's not who I really am. I'm sorry, kids - I wish it could have been different."
This troubled me, but I had to think about it quite a while before I realized why. The lies Peggy believes are so thick that it's hard to untangle them and evaluate them one at a time.
1. I'm not me some of the time. This friend and her husband dealt with some very difficult circumstances. Unfortunately, Peggy responded with anger, bitterness, blame (in her words, "stress" and "depression") and ultimately, the decision to shed her husband like a snake sheds its old, worn-out skin. Now she feels liberated, as though she is blossoming into her true self. She's happy and carefree, as she remembers feeling in the early years of her marriage. But who was stressed-out and depressed? Peggy. Who regularly lashed out at her husband and kids? Peggy. Who broke up their unhappy home? Peggy. Some other person did not take possession of Peggy's body. She really was, and is, that person.
2. Circumstances control our lives; we are just victims. Those "worst years" could have been the best years, had Peggy responded with patience, trust or love to the trials she faced. Her three daughters could be filled with admiration at what their mother endured and gratitude for an intact, happy home despite their troubles. My own parents had many ups and downs in their 38-year marriage, but at my mother's funeral, I cried with joy that we had walked the cancer journey together as a whole family.
3. Things couldn't have been any different. Things could have been different. When her husband turned out to be a jerk, as all men are occasionally, Peggy could have remembered why she married him in the first place and patiently waited for things to get better. She could have restrained her tongue at home as she does at work. She could have sought counseling with a willingness to change herself instead of a preconceived determination that her husband or the circumstances were at fault. She could have surrounded herself with people who believed, "Murder, maybe; divorce, never." She could have recognized her own complicity in the problems and extended grace to her husband and daughters.
This whole post depressed me because Peggy continues to see herself as a victim and therefore doesn't see any need to change her own attitudes. Does she really believe that now that her husband is out of her home, no trials will ever arise? Or that she will somehow respond with grace and joy to future difficulties, when she has a completely different pattern firmly entrenched in her psyche?
I am no better than Peggy. I have the same negative reactions, the same self-righteous bitterness, the same tendency to blame others and lash out at them. What will my children remember? I pray they will remember that Jesus Christ forgives and renews me and them. I pray they will remember that the Holy Spirit "calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies" us. I pray they will remember my humble moments. And I pray they will remember that two jerks can live together in peace and love through God's power.
This troubled me, but I had to think about it quite a while before I realized why. The lies Peggy believes are so thick that it's hard to untangle them and evaluate them one at a time.
1. I'm not me some of the time. This friend and her husband dealt with some very difficult circumstances. Unfortunately, Peggy responded with anger, bitterness, blame (in her words, "stress" and "depression") and ultimately, the decision to shed her husband like a snake sheds its old, worn-out skin. Now she feels liberated, as though she is blossoming into her true self. She's happy and carefree, as she remembers feeling in the early years of her marriage. But who was stressed-out and depressed? Peggy. Who regularly lashed out at her husband and kids? Peggy. Who broke up their unhappy home? Peggy. Some other person did not take possession of Peggy's body. She really was, and is, that person.
2. Circumstances control our lives; we are just victims. Those "worst years" could have been the best years, had Peggy responded with patience, trust or love to the trials she faced. Her three daughters could be filled with admiration at what their mother endured and gratitude for an intact, happy home despite their troubles. My own parents had many ups and downs in their 38-year marriage, but at my mother's funeral, I cried with joy that we had walked the cancer journey together as a whole family.
3. Things couldn't have been any different. Things could have been different. When her husband turned out to be a jerk, as all men are occasionally, Peggy could have remembered why she married him in the first place and patiently waited for things to get better. She could have restrained her tongue at home as she does at work. She could have sought counseling with a willingness to change herself instead of a preconceived determination that her husband or the circumstances were at fault. She could have surrounded herself with people who believed, "Murder, maybe; divorce, never." She could have recognized her own complicity in the problems and extended grace to her husband and daughters.
This whole post depressed me because Peggy continues to see herself as a victim and therefore doesn't see any need to change her own attitudes. Does she really believe that now that her husband is out of her home, no trials will ever arise? Or that she will somehow respond with grace and joy to future difficulties, when she has a completely different pattern firmly entrenched in her psyche?
I am no better than Peggy. I have the same negative reactions, the same self-righteous bitterness, the same tendency to blame others and lash out at them. What will my children remember? I pray they will remember that Jesus Christ forgives and renews me and them. I pray they will remember that the Holy Spirit "calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies" us. I pray they will remember my humble moments. And I pray they will remember that two jerks can live together in peace and love through God's power.
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