January 25, 2007
Mother Goose smoked a pipe?
We are rescuing the basement. The basement…home to the freezer, the laundry, one of many tool benches, and 30 years of boxed treasures, memories, and CRAP-olla. The goal: one box a day. Sort, sift, Goodwill, re-box, hang, etc. Lord, help me. I’m already a week behind.
I found a gem, though…thrown casually in a plastic bag…my mobile from when I was a wee little lass. It flies wooden nursery rhyme characters above and plays (still plays!) that baby lullabye that no one knows the true name of…I think I made up words to it, “Go to sleep, Go to sleep, Go to SLEEP lit-tle ba-by. Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Go to SLE-E-E-E-EEEEEP.” You know it? It’s hard to sing on the computer.
But here’s my question: what is Mother Goose smokin’? Or is it even Mother Goose? It’s not, I don’t think. Who is it and what’s in her mouth? Maybe I don’t know my nursery rhymes as well as I thought. Any help would be greatly appreciated.
Curt, Ry, and I headed to the VanderPloeg‘s last night for a little winter k-nitting action. Jo’s got some serious (baby) bootie action happening and I, well, my action is a secret. Aaron and Curt talked basement remodeling and 3-way light switch wiring- BOR-ing. Lainy and Rylie were not interested in fiber or engineering…they wanted to shop. Rylie wanted to drive, but she is clearly too young and Lainy is much more experienced with the stroller.
And, on a more serious note, I had the priviledge Tuesday night to sing for the closing service of a leader’s conference held at Mars Hill this week. Two-thousand pastors, youth leaders, deacons, elders, and staff of churches from all over the country and world came to be challenged and refreshed and served. It ended with church and communion Tuesday night. Singing during communion is always this clash of emotions for me. I find myself standing in the middle of something unreal and very personal…singing for people who cannot find the words or creating a backdrop for such a beautiful moment. But it’s often so very personal for them, and you can feel like you’re interrupting…or like you want to hug them…or like you run to run away down the aisle. This Tuesday was particularly hard because it was our (collective, world-wide) church up there…broken and tired and joyous and heart-felt and flat on their faces meeting with God. And I was honored to be there. I just want to take a minute to remind you that your pastor is tired and human and funny. They need to be encouraged and served and loved just as much as we do sitting in the pews. They struggle with their teenagers, they miss their families, they question Iraq, they hate the Christmas crowds, they don’t know why there aren’t enough nursery workers, they love ham sandwiches…just like we do. So, love on them…a lot.
Happy weekend to you all and to all a good night!
Rylie has slept through the night (8+ hours) 3 nights in a row now!