I managed to avoid doing ANY shopping yesterday on what is traditionaly the busiest shopping day of the year. We went to a memorial service in the morning for our friend Don's godmother's husband, a very quiet, white-haired gentleman, who has been looking quite frail for years. He finally succumbed to pneumonia last week. Don sang The Lord's Prayer as part of the service.

The rest of the day was spent killing dustbunnies, washing bedlinens, getting Ben's room ready. He brought his belongings over yesterday afternoon, but he won't begin sleeping here until Monday night. Wish me luck.

By the footprints in the snow I can tell we had some visitors from the Forest Preserve last night. Maybe the deer will come by again later and we can watch them from our newly enclosed back porch. We have the door to the porch open and the warm air from the house is heating it up quite nicely. Chuck is planning on deep-frying the turkey, and we'll eat about 3:00 p.m. Of course, EVERYONE will be here. The last gathering before the great move to Arizona.

A Gathering of Angels

I am convinced that Barbara's Kitchen is a place where angels gather. I have gone there several times when I was worried or concerned about something, and I have had a conversation with someone there who spoke to my concern. It happened again today. It is not lightly that I once again take on the responsibility for a teenager. Even though Ben is 18 years old, I will still have to go and pick up his report card from school. Chuck and I will be responsible for him until after he graduates from high school and enters the Air Force. (By the way, he scored very well on his written exam for the Air Force and passed his physical with flying colors. His departure for Basic Training is scheduled for July 28.) There was a woman at the restaurant today who overheard me talking about my situation. She told me how two friends of hers, twin girls, spent the last months of high school living in her home when their parents moved to Indiana. She said it was a wonderful experience, both for her having her friends there, but also for her parents.

Ben will need a place to do his homework when he moves in on Friday. I looked at desks at Office Depot, most of which are pretty expensive for what they are made of, and have to be assembled, too. I decided instead to get a 72 inch long utility table that I saw at Costco for only $45.00.

To the Man in the Parking Lot at Costco: It must have been a matter of life and death that you were in such a hurry you had to refuse my plea for assistance in getting the table into my car. Don't worry, I did finally manage to do it myself. I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving. May there always be someone there to help you when you need it.

I checked off several things on yesterday's "to do" list, but as usual I was too ambitious and must carry several over to today.

It looks like I may have the soprano solo in "Good King Wenceslas" at our December Lutheran Choir of Chicago concerts. Anyway, I sang it last night at rehearsal.

My company gives us the day after Thanksgiving off as well as the holiday itself, so since Sheila, the lead Journal Billing Analyst who is training me in my new duties, is taking the first three days of this week off as well, I decided to take M-W as vacation days. Not that I'll just be sitting around doing nothing, you understand. I have Christmas shopping to do, and I have to get the guest room ready for Ben, who will be moving in on Friday.

I really hope this move to Arizona works out for my daughter and her family.

Our church has been sponsoring a young man going through seminary for the last six years, and yesterday was his last, and toughest hurdle on the course to ordination. An Ecclesiastical Council was held at our church yesterday afternoon. Ministers and representatives of the laity from the entire Chicago Metropolitan Association (CMA) of the United Church of Christ were invited, and there were about 150 in attendance. David, the young man applying for ordination, gave a brief presentation, a sort of statement of his faith and his call to the ministry. Then he was submitted to an hour of questioning followed by a vote. Anyone at the meeting was allowed to ask a question, but only clergy with standing in the CMA and one lay person from each church were allowed to vote.

This should have been a formality. It should have been easy. David had been through seminary and had been thoroughly examined and accepted by the Church and Ministry Committee of the CMA. However, there were a few things which complicated yesterday’s proceedings. For one thing, David is not at this time being called to a full-time traditional parish ministry (he has been serving as a part-time co-pastor for a nearby church, but since he is not ordained he is unable to administer the sacraments). His main work is for Chicago’s Night Ministry. David drives the Night Ministry Bus around the streets of Chicago, ministering to the homeless, drug addicts, alcoholics, prostitutes, etc.

Another complication is that David is gay. In our denomination, this is not usually a problem. As long ago as 1985, our General Synod adopted a policy of being Open and Affirming, which proclaims that Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) persons are loved by God and that their gifts are an essential part of the community and ministry of Jesus Christ. However, one of the larger churches in the CMA is First Baptist Congregational Church, a huge all black congregation on the west side of Chicago, which was originally a Baptist church, but has chosen to join the United Church of Christ. These people hold the uninformed, Neanderthal view that such things are a matter of choice rather than genetic predisposition. As though a person simply chooses to be gay.

This church brought in about fifteen people, who spaced themselves strategically around the room, asking the most damaging questions they could think of. My very favorite was the one about how would David counsel a man just released from prison who has been repeatedly raped and “wants to get out of that life-style.” HE-LLO! It seems to me that the use of the term “rape” means that the man was not a willing participant. If a man who has been raped is automatically a homosexual, does that make a woman who has been raped a prostitute?

I’m happy to report that in spite of all this, David kept his cool and answered everything calmly and logically. Russ, our Scoutmaster asked him if he’d ever been afraid out on the streets. I imagine that standing up there took more courage than dodging bullets from a drive-by shooting. The vote was 44-3 to allow him to be ordained.

After much prayerful consideration, we have decided to invite our oldest grandson, Ben, to stay with us as he finishes his senior year of high school. Diana and Ben’s dad and the rest of the kids are moving out to Arizona at the end of this month. Ben is taking his physical for the Air Force on Wednesday, and if all goes well with that and his written tests, he will be sworn in under the Delayed Enlistment Program and will start his basic training after graduation. He is eighteen and technically an adult, and he was planning on trying to find a friend he could stay with, but not having any success. Since we will be in loco parentis for him anyway, we figure it will be easier to keep track of how he’s doing if he’s under our roof.

Ben is a very serious young man, very polite, and doing well in school. He doesn’t drive, so we won’t have any problems with auto insurance, and he says he may be able to get medical insurance through his part-time job at the Jewel supermarket. If not, we’ll just feed him vitamins, tell him to be extra careful when riding his bicycle, and hope for the best. He asked about rent, and we told him $20.00 a week and straight A’s in school.

This was something I certainly wasn’t planning on, but I guess I should always expect the unexpected. Ben might possibly have been able to stay with my sister-in-law Janis, except that Janis’s daughter Aubrey is leaving her boyfriend and coming back home to Janis’s house with her 18 month old girl Ariana. As I’ve said before, it’s always something……

Anyway, I have a very peaceful feeling that this is the right thing to do.

I used to believe that my heart was located in my butt. This was because when I was very little and would fall down my great-aunt, who was my primary care-giver, would set me back on my feet, pat my behind and say, "Bless your little heart." Sometimes when I fell I would cry that I had a broken heart.

Chuck’s last duty station before retiring from the Air Force was Chanute AFB, just outside of Rantoul, Illinois, about 15 miles north of Champaign, where the Chicago Bears are playing this season while Soldier Field is being rennovated. Chuck is a very outgoing, friendly guy, and between his work at the base hospital and his involvement in such things as the Base Exercise and Evaluation Team and the Top 4 group, consisting of members of the top four enlisted ranks, pretty much of everyone on base, from the General on down, knew him. As a matter of fact, Chuck and the General were on a first-name basis. The General called my husband “Chuck” and Chuck called the General “Sir”.

This fact was a constant sore point with our teenage daughter and pre-teen son, both of whom longed to establish their own identities. They couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without someone saying, “Oh, you’re MSgt. B.’s daughter (or son)." They could also be sure that nothing they did would ever remain a secret from their father.

Diana called the other day to relay the fact that the curse has followed her into adulthood. She and Rick took Rick’s oldest son Ben to see the local Air Force recruiter the other day. She related some of her experiences growing up as an Air Force brat, bemoaning the above-mentioned lack of identity. To which the recruiter replied, “Chuck B.! I know him! I recruit at the high school where he works!”

I finally moved to my new desk this morning. After lunch I'll start learning a few things about what I'm supposed to be doing. I think I'll buy myself some flowers for my desk on the way back to work.

Diana and Rick were visiting when I got home from work yesterday. They stopped by to give me my ticket for Harry Potter. They decided on a 7:00 p.m. showing Sunday, to be sure I could make it.

Floyd was at LCC rehearsal last night without his soft cast, finally! His instructions are to walk without a limp and with good posture for as long as possible each day without the brace.

It's unusual for me to receive three personal phone calls at work in one day. So today is unusual.

The first was from my husband, a progress report on the screen-porch project.

The second call came from my daughter, wanting to know if I wanted to accompany her, along with Rick, David and Becca, on Sunday to see the new Harry Potter movie. Like she had to ask. It's more a question of when. I have to be at church on Sunday afternoon to support our seminarian as he faces the firing squad, The Ecclesiastical Council. This is the last step before ordination for him. If, for some reason he is voted down, he will not be ordained. So if the movie is in the evening, no problem. Rick's knee is doing ok. It's really not even cracked. Just a "bone bruise." He's on limited duty, sorting the mail on his route, but not carrying it, which means they have even less money than usual.

The third call was my sister-in-law wanting to know if my son liked nuts in his chocolate chip cookies. Oops! Will, if you read this, act surprised when you get your "Care" package from Janis.

Today is a monument to Cheop’s Law. Nothing is ever done on time or within budget.

Although the rest of the civilized world has Veteran’s Day off, I don’t. I resisted the urge to take a vacation day today because I was scheduled, I thought, to move to my new desk and begin, finally, learning my new responsibilities. Of course, it’s not happening today. The person who was supposed to orchestrate the move just got back from vacation, so who knows when she will get it all together. I’ll just wait. No hurry. (Don’t tell anyone I have very little in the way of work to do until the move happens.)

Chuck’s assignment for the day, since he DOES have today off, was to get Plexiglas as winter screen replacements for four windows and the door on the screen porch. He had gotten it for three of the windows last year, and had what he thought was a good estimate of how much it was going to cost to complete the job. Naturally, he needs another $175.00 over that estimate, and the pieces of Plexiglas won’t be ready until Wednesday. Then he has to drill the screw holes and remove the brown paper before he can put them up. When it’s done, though, we just have to put a little electric heater out there and we’ll have a nice, hospitable smoking room for our winter parties. (No smoking in the house, please.)

I left work an hour early on Thursday so I could make sure the house was presentable for my visit from the Feds. Chuck was already home when I arrived. He had been on jury duty since the 28th, and they had wrapped up the case that day, finding for the defendant (again, since this was a re-trial--the first case was thrown out due to procedural errors.) It was a medical malpractice suit, and Chuck was very straightforward about revealing the fact that he had been and Air Force medic for 20 years, but they decided to keep him on the jury anyway. It turned out that he was very useful in interpreting a lot of the medical jargon.

The Feds (two agents--a man and a woman) spent about an hour talking to me, and I sang like a canary. Told them everything I knew. Which wasn't very much at all, unfortunately. They had an organizational chart with them, and there I was, right on the very bottom! I told them what my duties were, what I did on a daily basis, and answered their questions as best I could. But it's really hard to remember things from two or more years ago. Especially when it gets down to specific transactions. I suppose there's an advantage to being a cube drone, though. When it hits the fan, most of it falls on those above you.

I got an official envelope in my mailbox yesterday with just my name on it. Inside was a business card from an FBI agent with a note on the back of it to call him. He and another agent will be coming to my house after work to talk to me about Sabratek, the company I worked for before this one that went bankrupt and had its assets sold to Baxter. I had been interviewed on the phone awhile back by the SEC on the same subject. I guess they have now turned the investigation over to the FBI to see if criminal charges should be filed. So far, the big guys in that company have gotten fined in amounts that would be enormous to most people, but to them would be equivalent to a parking ticket.

Did I mention that I was really happy to see two people I knew when I went to vote? It's silly, I know, but I like the feeling of "See, I'm doing my civic duty."

There was a new thing this time. You put your ballot into a machine that tells you if you "over-voted" or "under-voted" which gives you a chance to try again. Most people under-vote because of all the judge retention things.

Today was election day, and I always go to the polls feeling less well informed than I really ought to be. I tend to vote against candidates I don't like, rather than really voting for candidates I like. But at least I vote. I voted against one candidate for State Governor because his entire campaign centered around getting rid of corruption. Being a life-long Chicagoan, I don't mind a little corruption as long as things get done. It sounded like his opponent had some ideas. Whether or not he can carry them out remains to be seen (if he wins, of course).

A week ago Sunday when I went downtown to the museum, I was walking along North Michigan Avenue before catching the 146 Museum Bus and I stepped off a curb I didn't realize was there and went sprawling. I had been looking ahead, and not at what was under my feet. I was walking onto a driveway with construction on the right of me. The far edge of the driveway had an incline for handicapped accessability, but the edge I stepped off of into oblivion didn't. A lady who was walking behind me, who lived in that building told me they were planning to fix it next month. I could tell I would have a nasty bruise, but I could also tell that my pride was hurt more than anything else, so I picked myself up and went on to the museum. Didn't even think it was worth mentioning here. The bruise has extended down my entire left leg, but it isn't swollen. Black stockings or slacks are the uniform of the day.

My son-in-law, however, managed to do basically the same thing last week and cracked his kneecap. He tripped over a piece of re-bar that was sticking out of a broken parking barrier at a convenience store where he stopped for a cup of coffee. He has an appointment today with an orthopedic doctor to see if they're going to recommend anything more than the immobilizer wrap, ice, and rest. Since Rick is a mail carrier, I'm not sure what this will do the the kids' plans for moving to Arizona at the end of this month. It's always something.

I'm thinking of upgrading to Blog*Spot Plus, because I'm getting tired of having so much trouble getting pictures onto aol. Any comments from Blog*Spot Plus users would be welcome.

The National Sales Meeting is being held at my workplace today, which means I wore a dress and I'll go home for lunch. Usually, when I dress up my boss asks me if I'm going to a funeral.

Today's church service combined Remembrance Sunday, where we remember those of our congregation who have passed away during the past year, and the dedication of the new cross on top of the church. The last hymn was "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," and the choir recessed all the way out of the building, followed by the congregation, to the front steps of the church, where a short dedication ceremony and prayer was held. The prayer consisted of saying the following alternate words to the hymn we had just sung:


Before the cross of Jesus
Our lives are judged today;
The meaning of our eager strife
Is tested by his Way.
Across our restless living
The light streams from His cross,
And by its clear, revealing beams
We measure gain and loss.

The hopes that lead us onward,
The fears that hold us back,
Our will to dare great things for God,
The courage that we lack,
The faith we keep in goodness,
Our love, as low or pure,
On all, the judgment of the cross
Falls steady, clear and sure.

Yet humbly, in our striving,
O God, we face its test.
We crave the power to do Thy will
With Him who did it best.
On us let now the healing
Of his great Spirit fall,
And make us brave and full of joy
To answer to His call. Amen.