Monday, March 29, 2010

A Child's Prayer 

E is learning to pray. Here is her latest:

Bless us o Lord
Dear Jesus
Thank you for, thank you for numbers
thank you for trees
thank you for follers (flowers)
thank you for, thank you for doors
thank you for teapots
thank you for daddy
thank you for K
thank you for, thank you for, thank you for tad (???)
thank you for...I want spell stop.
S...t... no I will do it
(Are you still praying E? Maybe its time to say Amen?)

We are working on focus, but her heart seems to be on the right track. Her first line "thank you for numbers" is actually her taking a position on a difficult theological problem (did God create numbers?)

Friday, March 19, 2010


Shortly after New Year, our family resolved to stop supporting factory farming practices. This meant, until we could find a reliable source of animal bi products, we would choose to forgo those bi products. So, if you’re reading between the lines, yes, we went vegan. And we are/were fairly successful at it, too. But, I kept my feelers out for good sources of eggs -- you know, for a special “treat.” Several students in my department are actively working out ethical eating / creation care / take your pick of terms. I asked one of them where she got her eggs. From her friend’s mom who gets them out of their back yard, where the hens are treated well, she responded. “They even all have names. I gathered eggs myself last time I was there. ” “Next time your friend brings some for you, I’ll buy a dozen off of you,” I promptly responded.

That was three weeks ago. Three days ago, around the break table at work I discovered that one of my co-worker’s (R-’s) sons raises his own chickens. “Hey, next time you get a chance, bring me a dozen.” (Only $2, a good deal.)

Then yesterday I got sick. I felt icky. And I really really wanted an “Egg McMullen.” It had been around two months since I’d eaten an egg. But it seemed like just the right comfort food. Fried up fresh and put on a lightly toasted, lightly buttered English muffin… mmm… And, even though we’d agreed to go local on eggs, I couldn’t help myself, I went to the store and bought myself the friendliest, happiest, tastiest looking egg I could find. Lots of labels on the package like “vegetarian fed free range” and such made me feel more secure in my dubious decision to buy for my comfort food breakfast.

This morning I was greeted by one of my department’s students. “Hey. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I have eggs for you. They’re in the fridge… I got them for free, so they don’t cost you anything.”

Later I went downstairs, to the break room area. “Did you see? R- brought you some eggs. They’re in the break room fridge.”

Oh goody. So, one dozen at home, one dozen in the downstairs fridge, and one dozen in the upstairs fridge? Nope. It’s better than that. The student, generous soul, brought me two dozen farm-fresh eggs. FOUR DOZEN EGGS!!! I don’t have a CLUE what I’m going to do with so many eggs. My high-cholesterol suggests that I not eat them all in a week. Perhaps I’ll have S eat them “every morning to help (him) get large.” Then someday he’ll be “roughly the size of a barge” (which means we’ll need a bigger house).

I wish I could say I was thrusting my vegan robe off with great gusto and rushing to the feast. But I still feel icky. And thus the idea of 4 dozen eggs doesn’t sit well.

What happened to “eggs as a special treat”? I am glad Easter is right around the corner. Egg-decorating, here we come!

P.S. Anyone want some locally-grown eggs from ethically-treated chickens?

Saturday, March 06, 2010


I am working on learning to make falafel. My first attempt today loosely followed this recipe. Ours did not end up looking anything like the picture though, and I decided that a little egg replacer helped it stay together a lot.

The result was quite tasty, with very little spice to it. So if you like spicy falafel, you could add some cayenne or something.

Friday, March 05, 2010

of a castle, trees, and a broken heart 

This morning I dropped S off at work on my way to daycare. S works on the north end of campus, I work on the south end. After dropping him off, as we were driving south to the main road, E looked over at the Science/Math/Economics buildings and said, “that’s not your’s work, momma. That’s daddy’s work.” A little later, she looked over at the cluster of buildings on the south end of campus, including the campus chapel, (as well as my building) and said, “That’s your’s work momma. That’s the castle.” I asked clarifying questions, and sure enough, I work in a castle. I asked her if she didn’t mean “chapel,” and she said, “Yeah. You work in the Capstle.” After a few more tries, she finally got out “chapel,” but I think I like her first statement better. My whole world seems a lot more whimsical when I consider that I’m an administrative assistant in (or at least, next to) a castle.


A little later, out of the blue, E asserted, “Look at all the cars, momma. Sometimes cars drive in trees.”


“Sometimes cars drive in trees. Like in the book. And sometimes in Green Eggs and Ham the trees are purple.”

[Ah. Gotta love Doctor Seuss.]

“Oooh! Look at all the trees mama [points to the trees on the side of the road].”

(Me: ) “Yes, they’re very beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I think God made the trees, too, momma.”

[Every morning for the past week, we’ve been telling Ella about how God made the beautiful sunrise, and how she can thank him for it.]

“Thank you for the trees, God.”


In other news, one of S’s students is currently undergoing open heart surgery. Please pray for this student. He is far from family. His name is also S.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?