Not Quite Lemonade

 

It came to pass that one day, the fair damsel Elaine (my wife) purchased some lemons at the Store of Groceries.  For, she had decided to make a pie of which the name in the common speech is Lemon Meringue.

(And as pies go, it is in my top ten, which is high praise indeed).

This, apparently, is a good way of expending many eggs.  Our chickens are Holding Up their end of the bargain well and we have an abundance of eggs.

So it was that Elaine finished making the pie and she looked upon it and behold, it was very good.  And she ceased from pie making and the evening and the morning were the First Day.

There were, however, several lemons left over and this, is the story of one of those lemons.

The maiden, Victoria took one for to make lemonade with.  She took the lemon and cut it in the center part and proceeded to squeeze the juice out of it.  This done, she fished out the seeds that had made their way into her juice and proceeded to taste it and shared somewhat with her younger sister.

"Is it delectable?"  I asked them, although I could sense the answer to this question from the appearances of their faces.

"No, Dad," Victoria replied.  "It's terrible sour!"

Whereupon she went to the pantry and there secured some sugar and combined at least as much sugar as there was lemon juice to make a mixture.  And there was a small "sugar disaster area" in our kitchen besides after this adventure.

I, with great wisdom, suggested diluting the potent mixture with some water.  This done, a cup of Fairly Passable Lemonade came to be shared among the two girls.

I pondered on this simple recipe.  Victoria had understood the important ingredient of lemonade to be pure, unadulterated Juice of a Lemon and I suppose this is right.  It taketh lemon flavoring of some sort to create lemonade.

A little sweetener helps too.

I thought on the fact that many men and perhaps some women, believe themselves to have the fair gift of prophecy and to be speakers of truth.  They who have these gifts are not careful on whom they bestow their advice and criticism.  Further, few of them seem endowed with the gift of loving speech.

The end result is that their words are sour and bitter in mouths of those who are fated to receive them.  As like as not, they are spit on the ground, rather than taken to heart and made useful.

I took note.  For while it is a blessing to speak words of truth, Love is a wonderful Sweetener for such words.

As a great man once said, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down."

Mystery of the Missing Glasses

 

It was an event filled to the brim with tragedy.  “I was playing basketball,” my son Vincent intoned in a hollow voice.  “The basketball hit me in the head and hit my glasses too.  So, I took off my glasses and put them behind the basketball goal.”

“What happened then?”  I asked, feeling like a private detective interviewing a star witness.

“They vanished,” Vincent said.  “Elliot and I looked all over for them, and we couldn’t find them anywhere.”

"Did they just vanish because you weren't wearing them?"  I asked.

"No, Dad, Elliot still had his glasses on, and he couldn't see them either," Vincent said seriously.

It seemed like a case worthy of Sherlock Holmes, but when he did not choose to make an appearance, Vincent’s parents went out to look for the vanished lenses.  Despite our best efforts and a number of Tantalizing Clues, we discovered no sign of the Lost Glasses.

The next day, we made a more complete search.  There upon the lawn, Elliot made the discovery of his short lifetime – bits of a frame and one lens.  Then, I discovered the second lens nearby on the the grass.

The truth was Clear to be see.  Our Canine Pal, Aria, had made short work of these glasses.

(Fortunately, the lenses were not chewed or scratched and only needed new frames.)

Of course, no True Crime story would be complete without an analysis of the criminal’s Motivation.  This of course, is difficult when the Prime Suspect replies “Woof!” to all questions, but in extensive interviews, it is clear that Aria has a secret desire to read.

There are so many interesting books about dogs.  There’s “Go, Dog, Go!” and the Clifford the Big Red Dog series, and even that classic title, “Harry the Dirty Dog.”  I suppose it is understandable that our Lab would think that the One Thing keeping her from the world of books was simply having some glasses.

For those who are blessed with literacy (I’m guessing that most of those reading this would fall into that category), it is understood that there are no short cuts to learning.  The road to reading is paved with Vowel Sounds, Blends, and Diphthongs.  No special glasses will substitute.

So it is with things like understanding the Bible.  Paul told Timothy “Study to shew Thyself approved unto God.”  He was telling Timothy that the only way to understand Scripture is to spend time with it.

There is no secret road to reading, nor is there is a back way to having a deep knowledge of God's Word.

It is those who read and meditate and try to understand who will receive Knowledge that Passeth Understanding.  For this Knowledge comes from time well spent, not from special glasses.

"I Wuv You, Dad!"

 

One day, in the year of our Lord 2022, I was driving through the County Campbell on my way to a store where they vend items having to do with Hardware.  For our kitchen sink had a leaky faucet and unfortunately, Faucets do not fix themselves.

My two-year-old daughter, Elise, was in her car seat singing a Beautiful Melody that shared some deep insights on Bus Wheels.

On completion of her tune,  she announced to me, “I Wuv You Dad!”

These are the sorts of words that would make even the stone heads on Mount Rushmore melt just a little.  One can only imagine the feelings that stirred in my chest.  “I love you too,” I told my daughter.

“I Wuv Mom!”  She said.  This too seemed reasonable.  Although Dads are important, Moms are important too.

“I Wuv my Blankie!”  Elise shared next.  Then this was followed by the definitive statement, “I Wuv Gloves!”

For some reason, our two year old has an odd fascination with gloves – particularly ones that are much too big for her.

I suppose it is not unusual for people to mix up the words “love” and “like.”  Elise is aware of both of these words, but perhaps her feelings for her parents aren’t that much deeper than her desire for her special blanket.

The story of Jesus and Peter came to my mind.  It was a time after Jesus’ resurrection.  Peter had denied his Lord three times and perhaps it was with this in mind that Jesus came to His follower and asked him three times, “Simon (Peter), son of Jonas, Lovest thou me?”

 Each time Peter answered, “Lord, yea, Thou knowest that I love Thee.”

 Peter was honest, but perhaps his understanding of Love was but a pale shadow the Divine Love that Jesus had for him.  For, Jesus had gone to the cross for Peter.  The reverse had not been true.

 I am certain that my love for my Master is not nearly as Deep and Committed as it should be.  So often it becomes distracted and focused on things that are trivial in comparison to my Savior.

 Maybe it is similar to a young child who loves not only her parents, but also her blankie and gloves, with equal fervor.

Labor Saving Devices

One day, it so passed that our Mennonite Meeting House had a week of meetings that some call Revival Meetings.  These have received their name because of their reviving spiritual effects, for the meetings were Physically Taxing for those who endured until the end.

One evening, on returning to our home from one of these meetings, my wife noticed that the Youngest Damsel in our household was already enfolded in the arms of sleep.  So, Elaine put this damsel into bed with her clothes on.  It came to pass that Elise slept all night until the dawn and a little thereafter.

It so chanced that what with one thing and another, Elise wore the same clothes until evening when her sister, Victoria, exclaimed, "Mom, Leesy is wearing the same clothes as yesterday!"

It was true.

When I was a Wee Lad, still sleeping in the House of my Father, I had the notion that there would be much less laundry if only I would be allowed to wear my clothes two days in a row.  I am not sure why I was concerned about this, because my mother washed the clothes, but it seemed reasonable to wear them inside out one day and the following day to wear them right side out.

Hey Presto!  Suddenly half the laundry would be generated with no effort at all.

Somehow this Whiz-Banger of an idea has never caught on.  Perhaps the issue is that its inventor isn't famous enough.  Certainly it has never been tried on a global scale.  As I ponder the subject, part of the issue is that many types of apparel that come with buttons and zippers pre-installed, are difficult to put on inside out, but of course, living in the 21st Century, that should be easy enough to deal with.

Mayhap the number one reason for New Inventions is simply laziness.  The desire to do the same things with less effort is very motivating for humans.

Proverbs 13:4 tells us "The soul of the sluggard desireth and hath nothing, but the soul of the diligent shall be made fat."  Idleness leads to emptiness, while diligence leads to fulfillment.

The goal of human endeavor should not simply be to avoid work at all costs, nor should it be an aim for Maximal Rest.  A little labor is good for the soul and weary heads rest easier on their pillows.  I have become convinced that if folks invested the same effort in finishing their work that they use to get out of work, they might rest from their labors knowing that they were done.

The number of Labor Saving Devices grows larger by the week.  Perhaps the time will come when the Multitudes will need a special edifice simply to story their Gizmos of Laziness.

There is a cost for each one of these inventions and though they might prove useful, the Bigger Deal is to get the work done.  

For laundry must be done, even for those who wear their clothes multiple days in a row.  For while they may save time on laundry, they might lose friends through Increased Stinkiness.

The Miracle of the Prodigal Chicken

 

On the grounds of the palatial Waldron estate there live thirteen individuals who have Two Legs.  Seven have gone to school or will someday attend school, while the other six indulge in Fowl Language on a regular basis.

There might be other differences noted between those who make their abode in the Yard of Chickens and those who live in the House, but I will leave that for another Time and Place.

One day, it so chanced that my daughter, who has just turned seven, went to the Chicken Pen with the intention of Collecting Eggs.  She found some and then returned to our house.  Unfortunately, she Forgot to Shut the Door.

So it was, that an hour later I looked and behold, the door was Ajar.  On further investigation, only three chickens remained within the pen.

Now, we live with woods surrounding our home and there are many Critters that are glad for Chicken Dinners that they find when we do not pen our chickens up for the night.  So, my heart fell as I beheld our Chicken Pen only half full.

One chicken was found soon afterward in our yard.  Another chicken returned that afternoon and was permitted re-entrance to the Yard.  Of the sixth chicken there was no sign or feather seen of it.

All that afternoon I prayed for my Hen Neighbor to return by nightfall, but as the sun sank below the western horizon, I scanned the woods and saw no trace of her.  I felt a sense of discouragement, knowing that some racoon or fox in our woods would have a solitary feast that evening.

I had prayed quite a few times that afternoon for our Prodigal Chicken.  I gave it up that evening, knowing that she was a goner.

The next several days passed as usual.  The sun rose, although not with burning heat, for March in Virginia is anything but Toasty Warm.  I went daily to my Office. My children also went daily to their Institution of Lower Learning.

Then, five days later, my children discovered hiding under an outbuilding, a hen that resembled greatly our recently departed chicken.  She had no desire to come into the open air, but when she finally emerged, she was found to be no ghost chicken returned to warn us of some coming danger, but a flesh and blood hen, who was Hale and Hearty.

Whether she was there the whole time or only just returned because she missed us so much, I cannot tell.  Either way, it seems to me to be a miracle.

Matthew 18:12-14 says, "How think ye?  If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?  And if so be that he find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth more of that sheep than of the ninety and nine which went not astray.  Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish."

I am no shepherd, nor does my living depend on the presence and vitality of my chickens.  Yet, my heart rejoiced greatly when the Lost Chicken was found.

I understood a little better my Heavenly Father.  His heart yearns for His children who are roaming afar, though they do not heed His voice.

It is not that He does not care for those of us who are within the fold.  He loves us greatly, but His heart breaks for those who are lost and prey for the Evil One.

His love is great and He cares for each one us, and welcomes us home.  For His excitement at the return of a sinner is even greater, if it were possible, than my joy at welcoming my Prodigal Hen back home.