Works and Musings by Sandals with Sox

Artic Traveler

2008-03-11T20:27:00.002-04:00

My son likes to travel and take pictures. Check out his site for pictures from Tanazania, Greenland, Budapest, Bruges, and beyond.

Billy - Rest in Peace, July 13, 2007

2007-07-14T20:01:00.001-04:00

Billy was a little dog with a big heart. He loved to run
and to be chased. He could play catch with a beach ball.
He loved people and was easy to be with.

For Harry, 1921 - 2005

2007-05-06T13:34:00.000-04:00

The Scent of You

We couldn’t get the guard rail down.

I climbed over and you shifted to make room for me.

Our sons looked on and showed no surprise.

Your brother’s eyes widened, but I don’t know.

Yesterday he thought you were your father.

I wanted to turn my back to where we were headed.

I wanted the comfort of you spooned around my back,

arms wrapping, coaxing me to sleep,

so that I could wake and recall a dream.

But, more, I needed to quiet you and sink into your scent.

“I will never lose this,” I thought.

“I will breathe so deeply that your scent will become part of me.”

I closed my eyes to the purple gathering on your limbs.

Then the nurse smiled down at us. They were ready.

A shot for the ride, hugs and goodby.

I rode in the front, but your scent was with me.

“I will never lose this,” I thought.

The driver turned and looked at me sharply.

I wondered if I had spoken the words.

The nurse took you to the room. I made arrangements.

Before I was done, the nurse returned to confirm the purple.

“We are talking hours not days.” I nodded.

When I came in to your room, you were curled on your side,

and when I tried to get in next to you, you made no space.

Peter came with Billy, but when he jumped up, you pushed away

and he jumped down to sniff out the room.

The scent was gone, of course; I leaned in and confirmed Billy.

Quietly and almost unnoticed, you slipped from us by morning.

I sat by your bed and your breaths were part of the room.

I stepped out to the hall to find my pills,

and swallowed them as I returned.
The room was changed. The breaths were gone.

I felt your chest with my shaking hands,

but my own shaking was all that I felt.

At home, I went straight to the laundry chute.

The sheets were still there and I grabbed them quickly,

tied them in a trash bag,

and hid them behind a box of old paint cans.

They will be there if I need them.

For now I still have the scent of you.

In the middle of the night, I turn and bury my nose in new sheets.

If I do it just so, I have the scent and drift off again,

as if spoon-soothed and recalling but a dream.

April 13, 2007

I Love This Stuff!

2007-04-09T19:56:00.000-04:00

I truly enjoy using Photoshop Elements to create backgrounds. I am not an artist, so this enables me to have fun without talent! I like to take a picture such as this one and play with it until I have something I can use. (See photo 1, a freebie from Aileen [Pronounced A-Leen] of Outside the Margins)

Today I used the magic wand filter to extract the flower. I then altered the flower, using various filters such as brushstrokes>accented edges, artistic>drybrush, distort>diffuse glow, artist>filmgrain. I adjusted the colors, brightness and contrast. Then I did the same thing on the lilypad background, and pasted the flower on it several times until it looked like this. (See image 8)

Now I will use this on white Polyshrink to make the base of a necklace similar to "Nancy's Wig" (see earlier post) I use the cookiecutter tool for the shape. (See image 9) I will also try to cut a flower out of the shrink plastic and glue it to the base.

Here are some other versions of the same photo. (See images 2,3,5,6,7)

Mom's Excellent European Adventure: Paris, London, Bruges

2007-03-17T20:06:00.000-04:00

( Photo of Bruges, Belgium canal by © Photographer: Janvm Agency: Dreamstime.com, used by permission)

Tomorrow's the big day! I take off in the evening and my son, Bob, will meeet me in Paris Monday morning. He left his home in Tanzania ten days ago and has been traveling--Prague and Budapest. He will be the guide, and here are the plans:

Mom's European Adventure 2007

Monday, March 19, 2007 Arrive Paris
Lodging in Paris four nights at: Hotel Dauphine Saint Germain

Activities for the day: General sight-seeing aroundParis,early dinner.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Activities for the day: Tour Louver Museum and other Paris attractions. Dinner near Montmartre (Mountain of the Martyr) with tour of evening artist market.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Activities for the day: Tour of Versailles outside of ParisThursday,

Thursday, March 22, 2007
Activities for the day:

Friday, March 23, 2007Depart Paris via THALY Train to Brussels Activities for the day: Breakfast / Coffee at a Brussels Café Depart Brussels via EuroStar Train to London at 11:55 AM
Lodging in London three nights at: Private Apartment off Oxford Street's Bond Street Underground Station
Activities for the day: Slow day, Oxford Street, Buckingham Palace, Possible Theater Show, etc.

Saturday, March 24, 2007
Activities for the day: Breakfast at the apartment; visit to half priceticket outlet to get Theater Tickets: Les Miserables, Evita, Underneath the Lintel, Antony and Cleopatra, The Tempest, or The Glass Menagerie; Lunch at Borough Market, Theater.

Sunday, March 25, 2007
Activities for the day: Columbia Flower Market, Visit National Gallery & Portrait Gallery, Visit St. Martin in the Fields & St. Paul Cathedral, Dinner 6pm The Ivy Restaurant Monday,

March 26, 2007 Depart London Arrive Brussels Depart Brussels Arrive Brugge Lodging in Brugge two nights at: Bed & Breakfast Activities for the day: Tour Brugge

Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Activities for the day: Tour Brugge

Wednesday, March 28, 2007Depart BruggeArrive Paris Charles De Gaulle Airport Hotel

Thursday, March 29, 2007 Depart Paris and head home

Other Pendants-Unfinished

2007-03-17T19:29:00.000-04:00

Shrink Art Neclaces: Nancy's Wig

2007-03-17T19:22:00.000-04:00

These were done in PSE on clear Polyshrink and run through my inkjet printer. I used the PSE cookie cutter flower shape and for the base, I used their "wig" meant for creating faces. It reminds me of the cartoon character, Nancy.

Pendant: Tropical Heat Wave

2007-03-17T19:01:00.000-04:00

This pendant was done on canvas white Polyshrink run through my inkjet printer. For the design, I took several shapes and rings in various colors and in PSE, I just kept playing and changing until I liked what I saw. I cut an elongated triangle and while the piece was still hot, I bent the top back to form a channel for the cord.

Mom, Baseball, and Lessons for Life

2007-02-14T19:35:00.000-05:00

“We live in hope. We live in hope. “That was my mother’s favorite expression. However, Mom was not talking about the resurrection, but about baseball. You see, my mother was a die-hard baseball fan.

She rooted for the Cleveland Indians because we lived there for four years and used to ride the street car to the games, back when a family could afford to go to the game and eat and back when the ball park could safely give out baseball bats to the fans. She rooted for the teams that played against the New York Yankees because they were too powerful in those days and when we lived in New York for six years, she detested the voice and mannerisms of Mel Allen, the radio announcer for the Yankees. She rooted for the Tigers when we moved to Michigan. She once told me that the Tigers came closest to breaking her heart. “They do seem to tease me and then let me down once again. But then, we live in hope, we live in hope.” Mom also rooted for the Braves whenever Warren pitched. When my mother died, her last words to the nurse were, “I had a great day yesterday. All my teams won,” I knew the, Indians and Tigers had won and so had whatever team played the Yankees. Warren had retired by then.

There was a time when rooting for multiple teams caused problems. Detroit versus the Cleveland Indians, no problem. We lived closer to Detroit, but on the other hand, she wasn’t too upset if Cleveland won. When Cleveland went to the World Series against the Boston Braves in 1948, we had just moved to New York and all felt homesick. Cleveland’s cinching the American League pennant was cause for celebration and a special dinner, but while the oven was still pre-heating, I put a damper on Mom’s mood with my question. “But Mom, what about Warren?” My Dad swore, and Mom went to the bedroom to recover.

Warren (the Invincible) Spahn was like a seldom-seen, but much-loved relative for us. He was a leftie pitcher for the Braves franchise and we knew him from our days in Evansville, watching the Braves farm team. My memories say that I watched him for years in my pre-school days, but the reality is that we saw him for a few months in the summer of ’42 and then he made his Major League debut the end of that season. Then he went into the service until 1946. For years, where other families asked, “How was your day?” we asked, “How did Warren do today?” In 1948, the Indians won 4-2 and Warren was 1-1.

Even though Mom must often have felt like the patron saint of lost causes for the most part she did keep her hope alive. When her teams had really bad streaks, she would write down improvement strategies in an old ledger, or she would organize a group of friends to go to the Ladies day doubleheader, or when things were really awful, she would spend an afternoon adding to her stacks of homemade scorecards that she would use to diagram the plays in future games as she listened on the radio. It seems to me now that she was visualizing drawing in the lines that would represent doubles, triples, and homeruns, a living into hope.

Baseball was never off-season with Mom. I was probably the only kid at my school whose Mom subscribed to the Sporting News. She thought through possible trades, she poured over the records on her scorecards, and she looked forward to spring training. Following the news from Florida and Arizona energized her and she seemed to be getting in shape for the coming season.

I wish Mom had gone to spring training. She accomplished so much at a distance, what would really going have been like for her? I learned a lot from her about loyalty, getting through tough times, hanging on to hope, and having fun for little money.

As I write this on a very cold and snowy day, I realize that Mom would be burrowing down in some serious contemplation about the coming season. Lent is at hand and so is the season for thinking about our relationship with God. What are the joys and where is the pain? Where are you in becoming God’s dream for you? God bless!

Another Dimensional Pendant

2007-02-06T13:25:00.000-05:00

Pendants

2007-02-06T13:21:00.000-05:00

Pieces for Shrink Necklace

2007-02-06T13:10:00.000-05:00

From Patterns for Shrink below. The top two were done on clear. The bottom ones on translucent.

Nww Shrink Necklace

2007-02-06T13:00:00.000-05:00

Patterns for Shrink Art

2007-01-31T03:13:00.000-05:00

Several have asked how I do the designs for these pendants. Here is one, above left, I did from a typogenerator design, below (see past posts)

I use Photoshop Elements. I usually like to use these filters: artistic>dry brush; adjustments>equalize; distort>polar; distort>wave; distort> diffuse glow.

On the way it looked like this, above right.

Still Shrinking!

2007-01-30T14:54:00.000-05:00

Isn't serendipity a joy? The smallest pieces here were done on clear unsanded Polyshrink run through my Epson printer with Durabrite ink.

I put them in the oven and forgot to watch them. They may have baked for thirty minutes. Normally, the side not printed on remains shiney and I put copper or gold paint on the other side. This time the shine was gone. I sprayed the non-printed side with gloss sealer and liked the looks. I rubbed on some Pearl-ex and then sprayed again.

They don't look much different here than the other pieces, but they really are nice and have a great feel to them. When I do patterns for these pieces in Photoshop Elements, I also invert the colors, so the blue pieces here are the same design inverted.

The two redpatterns on the bottom right were done on Polyshrink unsanded translucent. One has the top curved down to make a loop for a cord. I did the edges and backs with a metallic red leafing pen. I sprayed them with sealer,n rubbed them with Pearl-ex and sprayed them again.

Here are some more. Most were done on clear. The small piece on the middle left was done on black and painted and stamped.

The one on the left is again done on translucent and the top bent down for a loop. The ones below are on clear unsanded and represent steps on the way to other patterns.

Shrink Plastic Necklace

2006-12-27T19:03:00.000-05:00

Here is a necklace with a shrink plastic pendanct. The pendant is also shown below, second post down, middle of bottom row.

More Shrink Plastic Jewelry

2006-12-27T00:47:00.000-05:00

Here are a few more pieces. They are not quite as garrish as they appear here. These were printed on clear Polyshrink, which is not designed to go in the printer, but I find it works. I used an image from Stewart Shareware and altered in Photoshop Elements. After baking, the backs (the printed sides) and edges are sprayed with clear sealer. Then I rub the backs with Perfect Pearls, followed by a spraying of gold paint.

Shrink Plastic Jewelry

2006-12-11T17:06:00.000-05:00

Here are pieces before connections and beads for a pin and a three piece pendant.

"Fishtown" in Leland, Michigan

2006-11-24T17:22:00.000-05:00

This is an altered photo done with Photoshop Elements and transferred onto hotpress water-
color paper using Sheer Heaven and alcohol.

My First Holga

2006-11-20T18:57:00.000-05:00

These are the first shots from my new Holga camera. I had not taped the camera for light leaks, but there weren't many.

This photo is of a vacant lot in Saginaw, Michigan, the original location of the old fort. In modern times, the Ippel Department store stood here, and I have a fondness for the sign without a store. In back of the sign is another old building which has been wonderfully restored to house Jake's, a great eatery two blocks where I work.

I did alter this in Photshop for the sepia look.

This is an unaltered shot of a grid-like structure at the entrance to a hosptal where I make calls.

My Holga cost $12.

You can read more about the Holga below.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/photo/essays/vanRiper/010706.htm

http://www.freestylephoto.biz/pdf/HolgaManual.pdf

Harry's Gone

2005-11-17T20:49:00.000-05:00

He’s gone. Quietly and almost unnoticed, Harry slipped from us. I sat by his bed and his breaths were part of the room. I stepped out to the hall to find my pills, and swallowed them as I returned.

The room was changed. The breaths were gone. I felt his chest with my shaking hands, but my own shaking was all that I felt.

I whispered to Peter who bounded up awake to meet any challenge but the one ahead of us.

A month laterm between darkness and dawn, an altered photo.

Okay, I am doing the right things. I'm following all the post-funeral advice. I've been to two support groups.

The next time I counsel with the grieving, I'll listen more and advise less.

I am somewhere between the darkness below and the light of dawn.

Spend a Lazy Day at Typogenerator

2005-08-15T20:17:00.000-04:00

What is typogenerator? Type in some text, and the typogenerator comes up with a poster created from random images, overlayed effects. and your text. Don't like the result? Keep playing. Save what you like while you have it, since you can't go back! Save at a higher resolution by clicking at the top.

sandalswithsox at work

2005-07-25T05:37:00.000-04:00

Jerusalem, O Jerusalem

2005-07-24T20:52:00.000-04:00

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High
God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;
God will help it when the morning dawns. Psalm 46:4-5

Altered photo and text.

2005-07-23T17:19:00.000-04:00

"Copper Nights in Southern France" An altered book spread in which I transfered this heat wave to France. I altered a photo by pushing hue and saturation until it looked like I felt. When it cools off, I'll embellish.

Billy

2005-07-23T16:45:00.000-04:00

Billy keeping an eye on the neighborhood.

Altered Books?

2005-07-23T07:47:00.000-04:00

If you are wondering what they are, you can find out more about Altered Books by checking out these links:
The Altered Book: An Online Resource for the Altered Book Artist
Karen's Whimsy
Beth Cote
Lisa Vollrath
Enjoy, but be forewarned. They can become addictive!

"The Flapper Rests"

2005-06-26T16:07:00.000-04:00

This altered book spread was done with an altered photo done by Paintshop Pro 9 with an added image from a magazine cover from the 1920s. I also did silver embellishments which don't show up very well.

2005-06-26T15:45:00.000-04:00

Photo used in altered book spread above, "The Flapper Rests." Photo was altered using PaintShop Pro 9.

2005-06-12T08:17:00.000-04:00

Vilnius, St. Anne

2005-06-12T07:12:00.000-04:00

Warsaw palace, altered photo

2005-06-11T21:19:00.000-04:00

Outside Minsk, old collective farm village, greatly altered photo

2005-06-11T20:46:00.000-04:00

Vilnius, old church

2005-06-11T16:07:00.000-04:00

Minsk, processional at cathedral, on Monday after Orthodox Easter, altered

2005-06-11T13:21:00.000-04:00

Viilnius old town, below the castle

2005-06-11T09:40:00.000-04:00

Minsk Cathdral, another view, altered

2005-06-11T01:17:00.000-04:00

Warsaw old town, altered

2005-06-11T00:25:00.000-04:00

Minsk Cathedral, altered photo

2005-06-11T00:00:00.000-04:00

Igor Barkhatkov and Helena Barkhatkova, artists of Minsk

2005-06-10T23:10:00.000-04:00

"Baba Marie", portion of an oil painting by Igor Barkhatkov, 2005, Minsk, Belarus

2005-06-10T22:57:00.000-04:00

Another altered photo, Vilnius, May 2005

2005-06-10T22:49:00.000-04:00

Vilniius, altered photo

2005-06-10T22:13:00.000-04:00

Digitally altered photo of old city wall in Warsaw, Poland, May 2005

2005-06-10T22:07:00.000-04:00

This is a digitally altered photo of the Church of Mary Magdalene in Minsk, Belarus. May 2005

This Is a Fine Mess You Have Gotten Yourself into, Sandalswithsox!

2005-06-10T12:29:00.000-04:00

Gluesticks get into my laundry, hardback books shy away from me in fear, and I race to get the mail so that I can rip open the bills. "Hmmm, the inside of this envelope has real possibilities!" My husband complains that I am sending away for other people's trash and spending good money for it. I stay up too late so that I can get my gluebook prompt at 12:01 am. I hide in the post office until the grumpy clerk is tied up. How has it come to this? Sometime last summer I purchased a book, Altered Art by Design Originals, and I was hooked. "Altererd Mail? You mean you can send that by mail?" "Altered Books? Tear out pages? Glue pages together? Color in my books!" And then I aspired to become a '"gluemonkey", and doing my page-a-day gluebook became the highlight of the day."

What makes us take such drastic turns? I never was interested in crafts before, why now? Those into type development would say that I have entered in that wonderful time of life when the inferior function is deployed appropriately and meaningfully.

Those closer to me think I am nearing the edge! One night the six yearold grandson watched me glue pages of a book together.

Grandson: Why are you doing that, Grandma?
Me: (frustrated by my ineptness) Because I am an artist.
Grandson: Does my mom know that?
Me: You can tell her.
Grandson: But you're still a minister, too?

Later that night....
Grandson: Mom, did you know Grandma's an artist now?
Daughter (42): Well, how about that? (with eyeroll)
Me (to myself): Years ago I would have sent you to your room for that look!

Still later....
Grandson: Mom, Grandma just thinks she's an artist.
Daughter: What makes you think that?
Grandson: Well, real artists get their stuff hung in the gymn or in the mall. I don't know how they'd hang that book.

Next day.....
Me: So someone in my alteredbooks group suggested....
Daughter: You mean other people do this stuff?
Me: Yes, does that bother you?
Daughter: No! It's a relief!

2005-03-09T08:18:00.000-05:00

Rusted Altoid Tin, interior, "Who Are These People and Why Are They in Our Family Album with Their Dog?" Images courtesy of Roger Vaughan, copyright by him, http://www.rogerco.freeserve.co.uk/

2005-03-04T11:05:00.000-05:00

Fatal Error, Gluebook Collage
Challenge for March 3, "computers"
Classified, insert 03/06/05
HELP WANTED: Exorcist,
Should know WinXP, HTML,
FTP, PaintShopPro 9 a must!
Could be full-time, permanent.

2005-03-03T15:17:00.000-05:00

Paper Napkin Collage

2005-03-03T15:15:00.000-05:00

Digiman Collage

2005-03-03T15:08:00.000-05:00

Self-portrait Paper Doll

The Chicken-Winged Kid - Completed

2005-01-10T00:48:00.000-05:00

A Mostly True Story, Part 1

I was exploring ministry as a vocation which meant that I was routinely drafted for all sorts of church chores in God's house and that I felt routinely under appreciated. So one Sunday I ran away.

There was a bit of pique that my carefully planned Adult Studies Program had been tampered with by the new chairperson. The logical order of bible study at 9:30 and topical issues at 11:00 was reversed! The topper, however, was the kind of issue that has driven many a member to unorganized religion. I was mainly an observer, but nevertheless, I felt a vacuum suction of energy reserves. as the dueling of brass vases and pressured gas candles careened out of control.

Like most of the devil's mischief, this one began in innocence. The Murgen family donated new brass candleholders with cans of gas inside white plastic tubes. Out of the blue. No Murgen talked to anyone at the church. The Murgens walked in one Sunday, and said, "Here!" The worship chairperson, Gail Gorder, said, "Thanks sooo much!" and immediately we missed worship, scrambling through records of church gifts for the past fifty years. “Who the h_ _ _ gave the candles we already have?”

I held her hand as we found the notation, “Brass Candleholders, two – Given by the Trout family, December 24, 1952. “Praise the Lord!” Never heard of them or their kin. The relief lasted seven days. The next Sunday a technical problem first emerged. Sputter, flicker, flame up ten inches, and then die. The Murgens looked uneasy even as members thanked them for their lovely gift

Bright and early the next Sunday, out of the blue, the Jordans, inspired by the Murgens, walked in with new brass vases. Another scramble. Relief. Never heard of the original givers of the vases either. But in the sanctuary, there was rising tension. The pastor felt that the candles had distracted from his sermon, so he had shopped at Big Lots for glass chimneys, his theory being that the ceiling fans caused the trouble.

Now the trouble compounded as the light was distorted in a rather disturbing way by the cheap glass as the candles sputtered, flickered, flamed up ten inches, but never went out. Gail got a headache and hurried out. Others felt nauseous. One member felt hypnotized and went out feeling great. Most tried not to look at the Murgens. Everyone had noticed that the new vases were at least nine inches taller than the candles. We hadn’t really seen how squat they were before. The Murgens left in a straight shot for the door, while everyone lined up to thank the Jordans.

During the week, the worship chairperson got two ideas, one inspired and one from me. Her idea was a complaint to the candle company, followed by next-day delivery of replacements that worked as intended. My idea tackled the squat candleholders, and then I ran away.

Part 2

I suggested that the candleholders could compete with the vases if they were elevated. We talked it over for awhile, and then I said, “I know what we need! We need to get Earl to build us something.” Earl is the grandson of the founder of a well-known local furniture company. Now retired, Earl spent much of his time in his basement woodworking shop. “Earl’s our man,” I said. Gail agreed, and newly delegated, I left to call Earl, both of us having forgotten that Earl was the comptroller in the business and that neither of us had ever actually seen any of Earl’s wood creations. Earl was not a frequent worshipper, complaining that the organist’s playing reverberated in his chest and made it hurt, so it surprised me to see his pick-up in the parking lot the next Sunday.

I met the worship chairperson weeping as she left the sanctuary before services began. Speechless, she pointed to the front where several people were gathered. “What on earth are they?” I heard as I approached. What on earth, indeed! Had Earl gotten back to me as he had promised? No, just walked in, plunked them down, put the candleholders on them, and sat down for worship.

Large wooden boxes. Let’s just say larger then needed. Plywood boxes. It was clear that Earl had never studied joints. and there were gobs of dried glue. We were all puzzled by the woodburned design that meandered along the edges. Nobody knew what they symbolized. Someone said, “Who would have thought Earl would go new age on us? These don’t look Christian to me.” A former camp counselor said they looked like a rainy day camp project run amok. The gathered group couldn’t decide whether to remove the boxes and offend Earl, especially when we didn’t see him here much or leave them and further offend the Murgens. We left them, mostly because time was running out, and they refused to take any initiative. (I learned much from them right that moment.) Again, the congregation was distracted from the sermon by the worry that the candleholders would topple from their lofty perches and start a fire. It was obvious that Earl had not mastered rulers or levels either.

The pastor had done a double take as he processed up the aisle. When he couldn’t find Gail after the service, he came for me. Coldly and clipped, as I had never heard him before, “Do something. Do it soon.” I removed the boxes, the candleholders, and the vases, and in front of the cross I put a large cornucopia filled with artificial fruit and leaves spilling out so that the table was nicely covered. It was tacky and strangely timed for May, but I had done something soon. Then I ran away.

The next Sunday I visited a neighborhood church whose pastor chaired an ecumenical committee that I served. When I arrived, I found that my friend was gone for the weekend and that the very new associate pastor, fresh out of seminary was on his own for the first time.

I was early so very few were there. As we sat listening to the organist run through the hymns, I noticed a young boy enter the sanctuary from a door near the front. He looked to be about six, but I wasn’t sure. He seemed tall for six, but it could be that his out-grown shirt made him look tall. The shirt cuffs were far above his wrists, the body of the shirt was so tight across his body that we could see his ribs against the fabric. The collar, however, was too large around his skinny, boney neck.

“He’s sure a chicken-winged kid if I ever saw one! Give that child some ice cream,” I could hear my grandmother say. I had never known what she meant when she said that, but now I knew. As I thought about it more, I realized that two of my boys are similarly shaped, and I made a note to buy ice cream and some larger sized shirts.

The boy carried a manila file folder that appeared to hold pictures he had colored. He sat down on the front pew and scooted his small rear from one end of the pew to the other, got up and crossed the aisle, and dusted off that pew, too. Then he reversed directions. After about the fourth repetition, I began to look around, but I didn’t see anyone that could be young enough to be his parent. From the looks on the other faces, I didn’t think he was here with his grandparents, either. The church began to fill up, and the boy decided to walk down the aisle and smile at us all, and then he went back and redusted the front pew. I could tell that more and more of us were uneasy.

The service began and we relaxed a bit. He did come back down the aisle again, but when he sat back down, he quit dusting. We almost forgot about him, until the children’s sermon. Here I have to describe the church design because it is key to what happened next.

The wide pulpit is in the middle of the platform and has a semi-circular table attached to the lower part of the pulpit. On each side of the pulpit are carpeted steps from the main level, and at one point the steps are level with the table. A large brass cross is in the middle of the table, and I couldn’t help but notice--no vases, no candles.

The young pastor came down the steps and invited all the children to come forward and sit on the steps. The chicken-winged kid sat at the center edge of the step that abutted the table. Nobody, nobody could possibly recall that children’s message. The young pastor would say something like, “Can anyone guess what I have in this paper bag?” The boy would reply,”Our dog has fleas.” The pastor would say, “…and so these marbles remind of how much God loves us.” None of the children spoke except the boy, “Do you know you have sweat all over your face?”

By that time the boy had crossed the edge and was on the table. He started sliding, and in a moment he was next to the cross with one arm around it. The children had heard of sin, and they looked as though they now had seen it live! Two older and ample women decided to take action and moved forward toward the boy. They crouched down and seemed to kick their legs out in front as they went. I’m sure they meant not to draw attention to themselves.

At the table, they whispered and reached out to the boy, but they came to a point that every parent who has ever taken a child to the grocery recognizes. If there is a contention, one must decide, “Do I give in and guarantee that this child will repeat the scene in the future or do I take decisive action and risk causing a major scene?” The women gave in, got up, and walked back to their seats. I had the sense that those in the congregation who were adamantly against spanking were now reconsidering their position.

The young pastor gave up, dismissed the children, and in the process failed to notice that the chicken-winged kid now occupied the pulpit chair. I wondered if we were all caught up in a time warp or a bad dream, held hostage by a little child.

Part 3

The boy got up and began exploring behind the pulpit, and the young pastor met him there. We could not see them, but since the pastor had forgotten to turn off his cordless microphone, we could follow the spoken words. I won’t say conversation because again the two talked past each other. The words went something like this:

Boy: It sure is messy down here.

Pastor: Who are you?

Boy: Now your face is red

Pastor: Where’s your mother?

Then the organist, as mesmerized as the rest of us, came to, and began to play interlude music. The boy and the pastor stood up, the pastor announced the next hymn, and we all began to sing. It appeared that some agreement had been reached.

Often during the singing of hymns, I notice that the organist wants to play faster than the congregation. Not that day. We pushed her, we sailed ahead of her. We all knew that we were part of something that would bind us forever. And we wanted to see how this would all come out.

The hymn ended and the boy went down the steps and took his seat, but before the pastor could reclaim his pulpit and get started with the texts of the day, the boy got up and started toward the steps. The pastor moved quickly. They met halfway on the steps. The boy raised his arms and in a high-pitched voice, “Will you give me a hug?”

The pastor knelt down and embraced the chicken-winged kid, hiding his face and his tears in the boy’s boney shoulder. We all hung together in the cup of time. And then a woman came in the door in the front, took the boy’s hand, and led him out. The service went on as if it was a normal day, and yet I felt as if we were forever changed. Still, our feelings seemed too intense to give voice, and few spoke of it at coffee hour.

This was twenty years ago. Whenever I meet someone from that church, I only have to say, “Were you there the Sunday that….?” and heads will begin to nod, and we begin to share our experience.

“Will you give me a hug?” Before those words were spoken, as the boy started back up the steps, many of the congregation must have wanted to rush forward and deal with the situation. I felt that there was the tension of a collective clenched fist in the air. Yet, “Will you give me a hug?” and our voices were immediately united in a collective, “Awwww,” and many reached for tissues. That scrawny chicken-winged kid had the power to turn us in an instant. We still talk of it, I still write about it. “In weakness, strength.”

I made it back to my church in time for the sermon. After, I hugged Gail, Earl (two weeks in a row!), the pastor, and every Murgen and Jordan I could find, and I am not much of a hugger. I looked back and Mrs. Murgen hugged Mrs. Jordan. Later, the candleholders went on stands on each side of the choir loft, the vases went back on the table, and Earl’s boxes went in Fellowship Lounge’s memorabilia display cabinet, where they have taken on an air of art. Gail hid the cornucopia and fake fruit from me.

The End

What is true and what is not? All of the story before I ran away is fictitious, but based on church experience and stories I have heard. We are not perfect people—that’s why we go to church. The entire story after I ran away is true.

Archie, How Are You Doing?

2005-01-08T13:08:00.000-05:00

What more do we need to know?
While she was dying from a beating by her live-in, Archie talked about his mom, "She cooks good. I love her noodles. We have noodles most days." After a time, I understood the noodles that Archie meant. Archie's mom loved him, and she cared for him as well as she could. What more do we need to know? I wish I knew how Archie is. He would be twenty-one now.

Inquiring Minds Want to Know, "What's the deal on sandals with sox?"

2005-01-04T21:46:00.000-05:00

Of course you do, and I've been asked. Because, I have Parkinson's disease, my balance gets out of whack and I lurch at times. On a whim, a few summers back, I tried on a pair of Birkenstocks. At one time, I found them hard to walk in, but now they help. I refused to give them up in cold weather, so on went the socks. Adult children were not amused, and so, "Mo-therrrrrrrr, sandals with socks?"

Naturally, I went shopping for pairs in assorted colors. Red hats get so boring, don't they?

Now for the All-About-Me Bit

2005-01-04T05:08:00.000-05:00

I served a wonderful rural Presbyterian Church from 1995 - 2004. For most of my adult life, I was raising a family, serving in my local church, and volunteering in my hometown, Grand Rapids, Michigan. When I felt called to full-time ministry, I completed my undergraduate degree in Classical Civilization at Calvin College and my Master of Divinity at McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago. I also received additional training as a hospital chaplain and a two-year certificate in Spiritual Direction from the Dominican Center in Grand Rapids.

I have a special love for small, but vital rural churches. My husband and I have three adult children and three grandchildren, plus a dog, Billy. Billy loves to call at nursing homes, and he knows where the treats are!

I am adjusting to retirement, although I miss our many friends. We are making new ones in this place. What new work will God lead me to discover?

I enjoy reading mysteries, especially the ones where a pastor solves the crime. I recently started doing crafts. I have had fun making jewelry with shrink plastic. Finally, I am very busy altering my world! Stay tuned.