Mark's Views, Perhaps — from behind my eyeballs
100 ears of corn. Picked. Shucked. Freely given. To us. Because we went to Mexico. During prime gardening time.
God bless our generous, thoughtful friends. And we gratefully bless God too for prompting them.
I salute the Paul Smucker family for opening up their house — fridge, pantry, bathrooms — to passers-by of The Great Exodus after yesterday’s total eclipse.
“What I really need is a bathroom,” one woman confessed. So we made a new sign. “Restrooms Available!” And soon had a long line stretching all the way out our back hallway. Matt sat in the living room and directed people to our upstairs bathroom, while Mom showed people where the downstairs bathroom was as she mixed up batches of lemonade. Soon we had groups of people in our driveway chattering in Chinese, as children swung on our ancient tire swing.
Did you know Mennonites (or other Christians) were that hospitable? I’m certainly not! Oh, I would have enjoyed handing out free drinks and nibbles. But opening my house for an invasion of strangers to use the bathrooms, upstairs and down?! I. Don’t. Think. So.
I’ve got so much to learn and live yet…
But back to the story:
But still we gave them drinks and they used our bathrooms. Mom made tea until she ran out of ice, then lemonade until she ran out of lemonade powder, and finally we just handed out water and whatever odd grocery depot macaroons and brownie bites we could find.
I felt like Jacob who just happened to have some stew, and here were these desperate Esaus who were willing to give up their entire birthright for a cup of lemonade and a chance to use the bathroom. “Why are you so nice?” They asked, pressing money into our hands even though we insisted it was free.
Look, I know these people (to a certain extent). I vouch for their humanity (because that condition is a safe thing to vouch for). So don’t go thinking that I’m pedestalizing them. But I make no bones about hoisting them on high here as uneclipsed examples of loving their neighbors (perhaps even some on the road to Jericho).
With these thoughts in mind, I urge you to read the rest of Emily Smucker’s The Strangest Day of my Life. Like I said in my comment there:
Such pleasant Sonshine after the eclipse!
Scroll to the end for this update: Sunday morning, May 14.
First, the obituary for Rosana Roth as found in the funeral bulletin…
“The unmarried woman careth for the things of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 7:34).
Rosana Mae Roth was born on November 11, 1931, in Upland, California. She was the second of the seven children of Jacob and Mary (Buckwalter) Roth. She and her older sister Lois graduated from high school in 1950 with the rest of Western Mennonite School’s first graduating class.
Never married, Rosana cared for the things of the Lord. She was a school teacher in the States for a total of eleven years in three communities: Deep Creek, Virginia; Elida, Ohio; and Harrisburg, Oregon. She went on to serve about three decades as a missionary and teacher in Mexico and Puerto Rico. Read it all
Several weeks ago I was asked to speak this Sunday evening at our church. And I can talk about whatever I think I should talk about.
I have so many subjects and themes tumbling around in my head! But I’ve decided that more than anything else, I want to focus on that which is most foundational and essential. Perhaps I’ll tell you about it later.
Now for the list I compiled last week and the week before (so it’s bound to be incomplete). As you will see, I could be blogging for years to come. 😯 😀 Read it all
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Relax. It’s just a game. And after almost three hours, it seems to be entering the final stages (judging by the comment I just heard and used for this post’s title). Read it all
Yesterday we had a family outing to Trillium Lake. (It was a birthday thing.)
This morning early I thought back on the other vistas of God’s creation which awaited us there. And I wondered…
You could read that as me looking down my nose on fellow Christians or fellow fallen humans. You could accuse me of being a Puritanical prude. You could charge me with contemptuous condemnation. You could slam me for sanctimonious something-or-other. And you’d be wrong.
I’m not blind to the beauty of forbidden fruit, OK? But in my other-world moments I look beyond eyeball-grabbing displays and feel compassion. Read it all
Early this morning, I sat in the kitchen, propped — elbow on table, chin in cupped hand. I stared, unfocused, out the window. Thinking. Remembering yesterday…
Late yesterday afternoon. Barely Wednesday in the week. Rocking news upon shocking news.
A friend in our congregation left this life. A friend to our congregation fell backward into a service pit, breaking his hip and fracturing his back. A third friend in our congregation learned of his brother’s terminal brain tumors. A fourth friend, just recently of our congregation, was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Four cases! Far more than that many friends! All since early Monday morning!
An overwhelming sense of creeping sadness. Of deep ache.
And my wife and I struggling with our own health issues.
So now it was early this morning. I had just read the first 11 verses of Psalm 34. Here, read them… Read it all