"To love anyone is to hope in him always. From the moment at which we begin to judge anyone, to limit our confidence in him, from the moment at which we identify [pigeon-hole] him, and so reduce him to that, we cease to love him and he ceases to be able to become better. We must love in a world that does not know how to love."

Walking on Water, Madeleine L'Engle, 112

Joy Comes

 "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. "

Today I looked out the back window of the prep kitchen at work and noted the cold, snow, and dim light. It has been a long winter. And the cold only seems to be getting colder some days even though it's already March. 

"What if we lived in a world where we never knew for sure spring would come?" I asked my coworker. "What if some years winter lasted all year long, and we never knew for sure if the weather would ever be different?" 

"Oh, that would be awful!"

Later, I walked out the back door to take the trash out and admired the late afternoon sun I'd missed looking out the back kitchen window. In an instant I remembered that God is not sadistic or cruel...and why.

He's not cruel because spring always comes after the hard winter. He made it that way. And actually He makes everything that way: showy flowers after dead seeds, butterflies after dead caterpillars, rain after drought. It's as simple as that. He always makes "amazing-ness" after "dead-ness."

Joy comes. 

And my guess is that it CANNOT BE STOPPED. It's coming. It has to. It's the way it works around here, folks.

5 Years Later: An Old Blog Post Remembered

 

In five years so many things have changed: instead of running the kitchen in a tiny country Bible School, I now spend my days in a downtown Boston restaurant. Yet when I reread this post tonight, I remembered what is still the same:

Now that I have my very own blog, I'm excited to write in it. On Tuesday, I planted tulips. Digging around in the dirt made me feel very philosophical, and so I plotted a blog post about dirt. It made my task much more interesting except that now I've already forgotten what it was that I was going to say.

Hmm...

Tuesday night, I played volleyball with my girls. Usually, everyone plays Tuesday night sports but this time all the guys but one were away on a field trip. The volleyball net was duly lowered to our fair height and theoretically I could have spiked a mean one. But I didn't. With writing on the mind (except this time I think I was planning a letter to a friend), I waxed philosophical again. This time about my job.

Philosophizing is an excellent occupation. It allows one to back away from the fray and intensity of your own self and watch the "show" with the jaunty stance of an unconcerned bystander, chin in hand. From this position, I discovered my work was meaningful. Not the cooking. But the people.

Have you ever noticed that some people have scars on their faces; except they aren't physical scars? I know some people like this. Sometimes it's obvious, other times subtle.

I know. When I planted my tulips, I mixed manure into the dirt and carefully tucked the bulbs in for the winter. I know they will grow grow into healthy flowers because of my care. I know that loving these people will help heal their faces. It's almost as if I can see the future and understand how much the words, the patience, the listening, and the kindness will rebuild the broken down parts.

Funny how much sense it makes now and how little equipped I've usually felt. Mostly it seems that my days are filled with keeping my own act together. I'm the one that needs help!

I know. But somehow, I know right now that something can be done for these people. It's almost one 'o' clock in the morning. I tend to be overly dramatic in the middle of the night. Oh well. I still know!

Sarah's Very Amazing Goals for 2013

Ok folks, here they are. Sarah's very amazing goals for 2013. Stay tuned, because I will publicly declare (I think), at the end of 2013, whether or not I met these very amazing goals:

*Go on a date
*Weigh 125 lbs
*Try to publish something

Happy New Year!!!!! YAYYYYY!!!! Wahoooo!!!!

Daddy's Girl

When I think of Daddy, I think of God. I guess it's because he seems... a little fearsome, and yet wonderful and safe all at the same time. In fact, many of my ideas of what God is like are mixed up with Daddy.

You could say that talking about God is Daddy's job. For most of my growing up years he was a pastor (for those that don't know, that's kind of like being a priest). I've spent a lot of time listening to him talk about God, in church (fidgeting in the pew), and at home (squished on the couch with seven restless siblings). To grow up a PK (the official acronym for Pastor's Kid) wasn't on my list of Most Wanted Things to Be, but I didn't happen to be around when God made that particular decision. So, I heard about God, and the Bible, a lot (did I say that already?).

But it wasn't just talk, it was action too, for the whole family. So, instead of Barney and Sesame Street, we listened to Christian Adventures in Odyssey on Saturday morning radio, and instead of riding to school in a yellow bus, we did our math at the kitchen table. And I knew how to say Malachi at a very young age and was shocked one day around age ten when I heard a lady say "oh my gosh!" (people swore?). My friends were the kids at church, and I wore skirts all the time.

And along the way I watched my dad. One day, he gave away the sneakers he was wearing (and walked away in his socks) to a homeless man, and another time he sang "I Would Love to Tell You What I Think of Jesus" to a crowd even though he's not a singer. He was the only person that I ever remember seeing dance in church (think stoic New England kind of congregation) . He had a "fire in his belly" in the words of one parishioner; he couldn't do anything halfway, whether it was preaching a sermon or playing a game of pick-up basketball. Now he works and prays overseas in a politically fragile country when most men his age are enjoying retirement.

And somewhere in there I believed God too. Not because he was always perfect, or because I always liked how we did things, but because he made God seem believable. If you want to meet a real Christian I would be happy to introduce you to Bob Adams.

Petey and Hess--The Adventure of the Green Eyeball

"All classes are canceled at SUNY Delhi today, February 2, 2011, due to inclement weather." This morning at 6 AM Mrs Holscher took the official New York Alert phone call from the school. Instead of facing a minute by minute struggle through ice, snow, and a tight schedule, I could stay by the hearth at home!

First of all, I went back to bed instead of finishing my literature analysis for Professor Kramer. Then, I wandered around the house smiling at anything and everybody. When Becca sallied forth to walk Reagan, I tagged along, astounded at Reagan's ability to do the "butterfly stroke" in the crusty snow that was sometimes at the level of his face.

I learn many new things from Becca. This morning I received a history lesson concerning events that transpired after the creation of the world and a mysterious presence in the Holscher's own back yard.

The tale of Petey and Hess passed down, mouth to mouth, from older Holscher siblings to the younger members, one of whom was terrified of swimming in the backyard pond because of its history. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Here are the few details that I learned: Petey was a monster of large size that wanted to become a man. It was after Adam and Eve were kicked out of the mysterious Eden that Petey and Adam had a brilliant idea to change Petey back into a man. Eden already contained a fragrant tree drooping with knowledge. Maybe there was a different variety of fruit in the garden that would bequeath humanity upon its eater! But alas, the garden was closed, remember? Even a monster of large size and a perfect specimen of manhood couldn't break through the barrier into Eden's orchard.

Disappointed yet undaunted in spirit, Petey retained his monstrous form. But it was really quite fortunate because of what I have to tell you next. Please believe me when I tell you that another monster lurked the planet earth, this one so large that his eyeball was the size of a pond. Hess was an evil creepy character, intent on tearing up global turf and bullying the human race. Thankfully, the vast Petey was on the job to defend his manly friends on planet earth.

With the speed of a hummingbird and the strength of ten spiteful grizzly bears, Petey raised his hoary claws and bore a hole right through to the the earth's seething core. Petey then clasped Hess's surly bulk and flung him into the gaping hole and covered him with dirt, lava, and mountains. Satisfied, Petey lumbered away from what was now a small mountain range of rubble.

The end of my tale I tell you truly. Apparently, Petey wasn't a perfectionist, because Hess's one eye was left exposed in a small valley of the Catskill Mountains. In fact, this eyeball that I said was as large as a pond, actually was (and is) a slimy green pond full of leeches right in the Holscher's back yard. No wonder a certain young Holscher avoided aquatic exercises in its mysterious green depths.

The facts I'm relating from Becca's lips carry with them a deeply significant moral: perfect your freestyle skills before swimming in the Holscher's pond--you never know who's watching!

Since today happens to be my mothers' birthday, I sped home from school to give my well-wishes via Skype phone. However, on the Skype listing, "kingsman" is very grey and not available. Bother.

In lieu of a direct connection, I've contrived a short birthday toast:

Susie is a farm girl by upbringing and by heart--
with an inclination for thunder storms, bare feet, and hard work,
with an approachable manner and an unflinching brow for gross messy jobs that have to be done (think 8 children--they're just as bad as mucking out stalls at times).

Sue is a wife in love--
with a cute smile, dark curls, and a glint in her eye,
with 32 years successfully laughing with, teasing, loving, and following Bob.

Mum is a mother (her dream job, she says)--
with a penchant for tea parties, popcorn for dinner, weekly library trips, traveling to far-away places (remember the 8 kids?), making doll clothes,
with a delightful sense of adventure, fun, and understanding.

Thank you Mumma, for letting me hang out on the end of your bed, for telling me that it was OK to cry, for training me to work faster (how I hated it), for painting my bedroom, for teaching my little girl self how to hear God speaking, for letting me mess up your kitchen with my "mixtures", for not overcooking your vegetables, and for your curly hair.

I love you!