This Week in Babylon

Sometimes I feel like as ancient as an ancient Babylonian. Now is one of those times. For the past month or so, I've been busy getting some craft projects ready for our church's vacation Bible school. 

It starts tomorrow and ends Friday evening. Unlike many other vacation Bible schools, it's an all-day affair. Parents can drop their kids off as early as 8 AM and pick them up at 5 PM. 

Usually we have nearly 45 "campers." (The name of our vacation Bible school is "Camp Saint Philip's.") This year, we have only 33 registrations. In January and February, a thief began raiding our church's outdoor mailbox. He or she or they stole not only checks made out to the church, but also early registrations for Camp Saint Philip's. Our "summer camp" is popular even with people who don't belong to the church, because it's a well-run all-day camp. Unfortunately, we just don't know who might have tried to register and never got a reply. Needless to say, the church now has a post office box.

I help with crafts. Other years, the crafts were handled by at least three adults and a half-dozen high-school-age counselors. This year, there are just two adults.  I spent way too many hours planning, cutting, pasting, and priming. Not doing this next year unless we have another adult. 

So it's been both fun and drudgery.  Tomorrow the youngest group (the "LIONS" --10 kids going into Kindergarten, first and second grades) will make lion faces out of paper plates. I got all my ideas from the internet, mostly from other women who dream up craft projects that keep the kids busy and can be made on a shoestring budget.  Sisters, you rock!

What I've Been Up To

I volunteered to help with crafts at "Camp Saint Philip's," our church's vacation Bible school, which will be held July 17-21.  This year's theme is "Barnyard Roundup: Jesus Gathers Us Together."  Here are the crafts projects I came up with:  four paper sculptures (two "breeds" of pigs, an ear of corn and a carrot) a couple of corn-husk dolls, and a rooster made from paper cut-outs. I hope the kids enjoy making them as much as I did in creating them.

Two other women are also helping with crafts. One of them won first prize in a Washington Post crafts contest for a box crafted from paper she made herself. The other is a kindergarten teacher . She certainly has a more realistic idea than I do of what kids can accomplish in 45 minutes. I've only seen their ideas on a spread sheet. They have plans for small farm animals, a barn, a chicken coop, egg-carton bees, flowers made from prints of the kids' hands, marble paper, a bee house and a barn-owl mosaic.

One of the challenges we'll face with the paper sculptures is getting the individual sheets of craft paper to lie flat so that the kids can trace the patterns and cut them out without too much frustration. I've already cut out 24 sheets of craft paper for the fronts and backs of a dozen paper sculptures. Since craft paper comes in rolls, the cut-off sheets immediately sprang back into tight rolls. I ended up with 24 "scrolls" instead of 24 flat and cooperative sheets. I've been trying to get them to lie flat by stacking the sheets and placing heavy books and gallon paint cans on the stack. We'll see if that works.

A Day of "Making Nice" and ARGO

Yesterday I was at church from early morning until late afternoon. Our brief Sunday morning choir practice began earlier than usual, at 9:15. After church, I helped set up Wyatt Hall for a funeral reception and attended the 2 PM funeral for a dear woman who actually practiced what we promise in our Baptismal Covenant--"to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself." I had known she was a retired librarian,  but had not known that her library was at Northern Virginia Community College, which would have entailed a one-way commute of nearly an hour. Co-workers and women she had encouraged to complete their educations traveled some distance on a beautiful April Sunday afternoon to say good-bye, but I am not surprised. Rebecca was a loving woman. 

The parishioners brought way too much food for the reception afterwards. At the end of the day, we boxed up the leftovers and took them to Reality House, a half-way house for folks in recovery, which is just down the street from us. "Thank you, Jesus!" said one of the residents as she helped carry the cut-up vegetables, tea sandwiches and cake into the house.

After acting more sociable than I actually am for more than eight hours, I was ready to turn off the phone and raise the drawbridge. That evening we--husband, pit-bull and cat-- watched ARGO, a thoroughly enjoyable cliff-hanger. "Get that plane up in the air!" I fretted, as the story moved toward its climax. Would the six American diplomats, who were impersonating Canadian film makers, manage to elude the clutches of the Iranians, who were holding the other American diplomats hostage after the embassy take-over in 1979? Glitches in the carefully-crafted escape plan kept popping up, escalating my anxiety. In addition to suspense, the film displayed an impressive array of engaging characters: fusty government bureaucrats, irreverent Hollywood types, and a brilliant CIA operative, a good guy for once. The success of his mission depended on winning the complete trust of all six Americans, which he appeared to do, with one persnickety exception.

Tory if you're reading this, I have a question for you. (Tory, who blogs at ioftenwonderwoman.blogspot.com, is from Toronto.) Ben Affleck, whose speciality as a CIA operative" was getting people out," put the six Americans through a crash course on their new Canadian identities, including correcting their accents. I expected him to work on the pronunciation of "about" or "house," but instead he cautioned the woman who was supposed to be from Toronto not to call it "ToronTO."   Natives call it  "Torono," he said. Tory, is this true?  

St. Philip's Celebrates Christmas

In our Baptismal Covenant, we promise to "seek and serve Christ in all persons." On the Saturday morning before Christmas, parishioners filled grocery bags for 41 families. These were mainly the families of children who attend nearby Laurel Elementary School and depend on meals served at school. The bags of groceries included not only a turkey and all the trimmings, but also enough food to help feed the family during the winter break. 

St. Philiip's also adopted five families through Laurel Advocacy and Referral Services (LARS) and provided them with clothes, toys, and food for Christmas. In addition, parishioners gave gifts to children whose parents are temporarily living at Reality House, an inpatient addiction treatment center just down the street from our church.

On Sunday morning, December 23, we had just one service at 9 AM: Advent Lessons and Carols.  Then the choir had a special two-hour practice while others "greened the church." They made garlands of fresh pine and laurel, which were draped over the old, dark wooden beams high in the nave.

Christmas Eve services began at 4 PM with the Children's Christmas Play. We had two Festive Eucharists, with incense, bell choir, choir anthems, carols, and even a marimba. The first service was at 8 PM; the second, at 11 PM. "Midnight Mass" is an Episcopalian tradition, but I wonder how long our sleep-deprived generation can keep it going.

Tonight we welcome 34 homeless men and 4 homeless women for a week's stay with us. They'll have a warm place to sleep and they'll have a hot, home-cooked dinner every night. After breakfast, everyone will leave for the day, taking a bag lunch. Many of our guests have jobs. Those who are unemployed might head for the public library or the "day center" on Route One. Next Sunday morning, our guests will move to another congregation. The Winter Shelter began the first week in December and will continue until mid-March. Over 15 congregations, including the synagogue, will each host the guests for one week. 

Snowy Day

Today deep snow is blanketing the Baltimore-Washington suburbs. There's even a possibility of canceling church tomorrow--not that I'd be going--but tomorrow is "Greening Sunday," the Sunday before Christmas when the congregation always decorates the church with fresh evergreens.

It's 16 days after the surgery to repair my fractured right femur. Some days the pain is nearly overwhelming. Unfortunately, I'm near the end of the road with Oxycodone; I seem to have developed a tolerance for it. The good news is that the staples came out two days ago. I get around pretty well with a walker. They tell me I won't need the walker after New Year's. I find that hard to believe.

The visiting nurse will come once more next week to discharge me from home nursing care.  I'll have about two more visits per week from the physical therapist and will then continue therapy on an outpatient  basis. I can't imagine when I'll be able to drive again, since the fractured leg is the gas pedal/brake  leg. We'll see.

Last night, Criminal Cat (the one who knocked down last year's Christmas tree) jumped on my lap and tried to settle herself on my poor leg. When I screeched, she dug her claws into my thigh before jumping off. I bled a lot because of the blood thinner I'm taking to prevent post-surgery blood clots.  Phil washed the wounds, slathered on antiseptic ointment, and applied a dressing. I'll probably live.

17th Sunday after Pentecost

Next week we'll have the Blessing of the Animals. The priest says that if anyone brings snakes, she'll bless them, but she won't touch them. And they'd better be in cages.

Last week, in keeping with the Season of Creation, we heard Eucharistic Prayer C during the Great Thanksgiving. The husband of the priest we had over 20 years ago called it the "Star Wars" prayer. It's my favorite eucharistic prayer, especially the part about "this fragile earth."

"At your command all things came to be: the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home."

Denise was one of the servers at communion. I remembered getting a wrong number when I tried to call her one time.

"Is Denise there?" I asked.
"No!" barked a very annoyed woman.
I apologized and hung up.
Thinking I had probably made a mistake dialing, I tried again.
The same irate woman picked up the phone. "Yeah?"
"Uh...is Denise there?"
"Look, Bitch, do I sound like Denise?"
"No. Sorry for bothering you," I replied, timidly.

What I WISH I had said was, "No, you don't sound at all like Denise. Denise is nice."

Pentecost

I always liked the playfulness of verses 25 and 26 from Psalm 104:

Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things both small and great. There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport in it. (New Revised Standard Version.)

(The earth is full of thy riches.) So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts. There go the ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein. (King James Version.)

Fifth Sunday in Easter

1 John 4:7

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

From 1 John 3: 17-18:

How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses to help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.

The Story of My Life as a Failed Multi-tasker

I was so proud of myself yesterday morning.

The Tree Hugger was away, so I filled the feeders for "his" flock of 500-plus wild birds and threw seeds on the ground for the mourning doves, a passel of obnoxious squirrels, and Mr. and Mrs. Mallard. Fed the indoor fish, the pit bull, and the tuxedo cat. Scooped out her two litter boxes (one's on "her" screened porch), made the bed, got breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen, folded two loads of laundry and managed to get into my churchy clothes for a late-morning funeral before our 6-year-old grandson arrived at 7:30 AM. (His school was still on spring break.) Wrote a couple of letters, paid some bills, read a book about bats with the grandson. Just before leaving for the funeral, I brushed my teeth. Then we set out in the pouring rain. Dropped him off at his other grandmother's, drove to church, found a parking space, found my umbrella in the cargo space (a small miracle in itself), nimbly avoided puddles and streams and arrived at our church with ten minutes to spare.

Took off my coat, settled down to listen to the organ prelude, and noticed dried toothpaste all down the front of my dark, silky blouse.