by jphilo | Apr 14, 2014 | Family
Thanks to the nasty Winter of 2014, Camp Dorothy overnight jaunts have been on hold since the end of December. That’s when the camp’s namesake went to Minnesota for Camp-Dorothy-Christmas-with-the-Family and came back with the annual white elephant gift exchange’s most highly coveted white elephant gift: the 2014 Hunk of the Month Calendar with her son’s photo receiving top billing. (See photo above.)
Throughout the winter months, Camp Dorothy festivities were reduced to Tuesday outings. Activities were limited to doctor appointments, hair appointments and shopping trips to Walgreens, all of which were accompanied by groans and excuses from the camp’s namesake about why she should stay in the car while the camp director did all the errand running and shopping. The high point of each outing was lunch, an event that found the camp’s namesake ready to hop out of the car and trundle into the restaurant with nary a complaint.
The highlight of last week’s day camp was a conversation that falls into the yes-an-85-year-old-mother-can-still-make-her-nearing-60-daughter-crazy category. The camp director/daughter opened the conversation with the following statement. “I’m actually making supper tomorrow night. I’ve been traveling so much lately I’ll have to learn how to cook again.”
To which the camp namesake replied, ” Complain, complain, complain. I feel so sorry for you, Jo.”
Innocently, the camp director objected, “I didn’t mean to complain. But I haven’t cooked for a while and need to get back into the groove.”
“Always an excuse,” the 85-year-old replied. “You’ve always got an excuse. You’re life is just so hard.”
The camp director’s sputtered, “But…but…how can you razz me when you don’t cook at all anymore?”
‘That’s right,” she said proudly. “I turned all that over to your brother. It’s not my problem anymore. Though he bugs me until I help clean out the dishwasher. He’s so unreasonable.”
“Yet you’re chastising me for saying I haven’t cooked for so long I need to learn how to do it again.” The camp director turned her head to hide the twitch in her eye.
The camp namesake smiled smugly and looked out the window. “Always a comeback, Jo. Always a comeback. You came out talking and haven’t stopped since.”
Sigh!
by jphilo | Mar 2, 2012 | Church Newsletter Columns
Wretched man that I am!
Who will set me free from the body of this death?
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Romans 7:24-25a
We’ve had plenty to be thankful about this winter. Not much snow. Warmer than average temperatures. Good driving conditions. With the days getting longer and spring around the corner, my heart should be positively overflowing with gratitude. But it’s not.
Instead, I do plenty of complaining. About the miserable state of our gravel road. About how every mild day brings the stink bugs, box elder bugs, and Asian soy beetles out of the walls and into our old farmhouse. About the possibility of this winter’s mild, dry conditions morphing into a blistering hot, summer drought.
Yet I rarely express dissatisfaction with my penchant for complaining, even though plenty of scriptures warn against the practice. In Numbers, complaining earns the Israelites earn an extra forty years in the wilderness. Job describes his complaints as rebellion. Two of Jesus’ best buds, Peter and James, advise new Christians to stop complaining, too.
However, scripture doesn’t just warn against complaining. It tells us what to do instead. In Leviticus the priests are commanded to offer sacrifices of thanksgiving. The Psalms advise turning thanksgiving into song. Jesus gave thanks as he broke the bread that signified his imminent crucifixion. Over and over Paul tells believers to give thanks in everything, rejoice always, rejoice in everything.
Rejoice.
Rejoice.
Rejoice.
Still, complaining remains my default response unless the Holy Spirit exposes my ingratitude for the joy killer it is. When that happens, God breaks my heart. He shows me how complaining dims His glory, and Paul’s despair become mine.
Wretched woman that I am! Who will set me free from this body of death?
But Paul’s hope, spoken in his next breath, becomes mine as well.
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Christ, who gave thanks in the face of death.
Christ on the cross.
Christ in the tomb.
Christ, risen from the dead.
Christ, who sits on the right hand of the Father and intercedes on my behalf.
Christ is my hope and weapon and protection as I struggle with ingratitude.
Christ, not the weather or other circumstances, is a reason to give thanks always.
Lord, may you be a reason for rejoicing in my life and in the lives of all who love you. Amen.
