Middle-aged White Guys

Once a month, we try to get to the IU campus to talk to people about abortion, protecting unborn children, life, death, sin, salvation, etc.

In March, because of the whole discussion about being mindful of purpose, I was a little short with some people. I was disappointed in myself, frankly.

I am trying to figure things out, all the time. One of the hardest for me, is relational. How to talk to people. Small-talk for me deteriorates into empty jokes, or worse it becomes not worthwhile, and just evaporates along with whatever relationship and future opportunity for meaningful conversations that might have been.

Conversations about meaningful things turn into lectures, with me doing the lecturing, which has a tendancy to boil away most relationships and future opportunities for meaningful conversations that might have been.

God is good, though, and through my faltering attempts to keep my conversations that meaningful, He let me meet a young woman who is going into the army soon. I wish I could see her again. I will definitely keep her in my prayers. I hope to see her again, soon.

Two quotes of the day for this month:


1. "Yah, but if it is illegal, only criminals will get abortions!" This is true, and what an interesting way to put it! It just calls to mind for me some lyrics. I think they (didn't) go something like this:

Imagine no injustice
It's not so hard to do:
Someone kills a child,
They get arrested too.
Imagine all the babies
Being born in peace!

You-woo-who-o-o You may say I'm a dreamer
But I love the Only One
Who can save you from all these lies!
The Truth of Christ can set you free!

Imagine all the people
Born and unborn
The strong protecting the weak
A brother-hood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world.

You-woo-who-o-o You may say I'm a dreamer
But I offer hope to you.
Turn to Jesus now
Our Lord is quick to save!

Imagine all the women
Treated with respect
With her husband there with her
Not giving in to fear
Imagine all the people
Supported through tough times

You-woo-who-o-o You may say I'm a dreamer
But that how it should be
Those in need aren't enmies
But they are blessing indeed!

2. (A car full of young angry women) "I just love to see middle-aged white guys holding those signs! @P#^&@!"
(to the left you will see our middle-aged white guys holding signs...ya gotta lov'm)

Scott, the young white man with the sign, showing abortion statistics, wrote about this encounter at his blog. (In a more recent post, he defended scripture against attacks...very level-headed; highly recommended for it's quiet calm.)

While we were out, someone who claimed to be from the IDS came along and asked if he could ask us questions. (I finally figured out who he reminded me of. You can see in the pic to the right.) I thought that was fine, until he lead me away to a table and chair down the sidewalk. I think this is one of those distractions, those things that take us away from why we are there. I learned from this to remain where sent, and he is more than welcome to talk to me just like anyone else there. (I haven't found the alleged article in the IDS)

Afterward, we had everyone involved, except that young white man holding a sign, and the character from the IDS, over for food and fellowship. Both were invited. It was a good, good time.

How Dangerous Do You Suppose I Am?

Secrets and Mice

It used to be that no one knew what went on in the Pierson home unless we told. Not so any more!

The last time we had mice, it was a great story to tell...if we so chose. This time, while I suspected that we had a wild visitor, I didn't know for sure until a member of our small group silently mouthed, "Mm-ouw-sss" to another one, and giggled. (sigh)

Later the same Sunday evening while we were engaged in a VERY serious discussion of sexual sin, another of our group saw one running through the rafters, and offered to catch it. (si-igh)

This morning, Glen discarded the seventh mouse caught in the week and a half since that meeting.

Lame

I had a perfect U-tube video to embed in the last post. It would actually be better to post separately because I would be able to comment on the difference between being part of a flock, and being someone's puppet.

I don't understand it. Everyone else can put videos on their blogs, but I can't... Boo-hoo-hoo!

Ice and Snow and some "stolen" pictures

I borrowed Lydia's camara to take some pictures this morning of the ice (since my boss decided that we shouldn't try to open the office until noon!).

Disregard the puppy picture which is our yellow Lab, Sunshine.

Let me try that again...

...Dog-gone it! Confound it all! I can't do this...Why Why?

Later.

Filthy Rags

All of us have become like one who is unclean,
and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags;
we all shrivel up like a leaf,
and like the wind our sins sweep us away. --Isaiah 64:6

I have had many things pass through my mind recently that I would like to blog about. Then I log on, read what I have written, and think, "What foolishness! What trash! How harsh this is! How can I stand to write this? What do I hope to accomplish?"

Compare to the clear and humble logic of Jiho Kim (the last column in the last page of his own blog role set-up); or the clear and gentle logic of David Talcott (click on the post regarding the Emergent Church to get a feel for the gentleness with which he engages an opponant); or the gently, quiet wisdom of Anne Wegener, who with sacred gentleness exposes her weaknesses and shares her strengths. All of the links on my sidebar are to those places better spent reading than here.

A cloud without rain.
Unworthy of paper.
Just a speck in the heap of cyber trash!

But the Word of God is true, right, good. It is living and active.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. --Philippians 4:8

A Fist Full of Dollars

This week I took some items back to WalMart. One was a gift that was the wrong size and accentuated my frumpiness. The other was some yarn that was just the wrong color of green.

When we decided to return these items, I couldn't find the receipt. Then, when I found the receipt, we headed to WalMart, maneuvered their horrendously designed parking lot, found a rare parking space, and started hiking toward the entrance. I looked at Glen's empty hands, and then at my own. We had left the bag on the couch as we walked out the door!

The receipt must have gotten filed, or at least looked at and suddenly it was missing again. I thought about taking them back without the receipt, but I knew that by now, the blouse had gone on sale, and I wouldn't get the full amount from it; so I decided to search again for the elusive piece of parchment.

Then, on Sunday night, I told Glen that I would be taking it back on my break on Monday. I had seen the receipt in his wallet, so I had every confidence that my plans would not go awry this time. He told me that he probably emptied his wallet since I saw the receipt.

My heart fell, but I decided to make one more search in the morning, and then make the return with or without documentation.

In the morning, I found the receipt; not in Glen's wallet, but in the basket on the counter in the kitchen. (whew) As I was placing it in the bag with the returns, I noticed the notice on the receipt that said, "Items may be returned with a receipt within 15 days of purchase." My mind quickly calculated the time. The blouse was a Christmas gift, which meant that it was purchased before that merry event, which ... was... more that fifteen days ago! Well, all I can do is try.

I got the the Customer Service desk with my returns and my receipt in the bag. I gave them to the nice young lady behind the counter, and she processed my refund!

She place a crisp and colorful twenty dollar bill in my hand, then poured some change on top of it.

I was surprised at the emotional reaction that sparked. It has been a while since I have had a twenty dollar bill in my hand, and my senses of sight and touch were peaked by its presense. I put the change in my purse pocket, and with the twenty dollar bill fluttering in the breeze of my passing, I headed for the craft department. I kept it in my hand as I relished my search for fabric, and, not finding any that I hoped for, my enjoyment of yarns and such. When I decided that WalMart had nothing to separate us, we walked together out the door and drove away, my new, still fluttering friend and I.

Wednesday evening, Glen asked me for it so that he could buy some gas.