March Madness

Yep. That's me. Holding my winning bracket.

"Wait? Is the NCAA March Madness Tournament over?" you ask.

Nope. But for our family it is. For those who care, three of us picked Florida to win, two of us picked Ohio State. But for ALL of the Leichtys, the tournament is over.

All of our teams are out of the running. Every last one of our brackets is completely busted.

But I have to say, I cannot wait for the VCU-Butler game on Saturday! I wasn't sure if Butler could beat Florida - but WOW. My husband says, "I'm not betting against Butler until someone beats them."

(Funny how he says that now that they're in the Final Four. I'm the only one in my family who picked Butler into the Elite Eight. Almost picked them into the Final Four. Bummer.)

Anyway, we love this time of year. And for those inquiring minds who want to know, here are this year's standings in the Leichty household:

1. ME!
2. 12yo Nathaniel
3. Glen
4. 7yo Isaac
5. 9yo Lydia
6. 11yo Anna

In honor of the last weekend of the tournament and Poetry Wednesday, I found this poem online and thought it fit the occasion perfectly.

march madness
Manonton Dalan

i saw tears; tears on sidelines
towels covering their heads
tapping floor mourning lose
well adorn faces; saddened
bowed in silence in defeat
but there's next year's fate

other side filled with jubilation
hugging; jumping, smiling, scream
shared noises; roars of victorious
changing shirts; wearing new hats
kids who saw it wanted to be part
we, we always wanted to be winner

Siblings & Cousins

I neglected my camera over the weekend, and for that I am sorry.

I did have it in my purse for our Sibling Night Out on Saturday, but left it there. Even though I have no pictures to prove it, I can attest to the fact that Troy, Carrie & I had a wonderful time together. We ate pizza and bowled and laughed and laughed and laughed some more.

January of 2005: Our first siblings only road trip, leaving spouses & kids behind as we traveled north to the UP to visit our grandmother. We reminisced about that trip Saturday night - laughing at Troy's unwavering faith that his little Subaru could do anything. Except drive across the snow-covered bay in Gladstone. After a walk back to Grandma's house for some wood and a face-first fall in the snow by Carrie, we freed Troy's car from the snow and Troy conceded that his Subaru had limits.

April of 2007: My grandmother died a week after my sister was nearly involved in a drive-by shooting. I left my kids with a friend, took the train downtown and met Troy & Carrie for lunch. I remember laughing there too - even though it was a sober occasion.

March of 2011: I won a gift certificate to Slyce - a new pizza place in town. That, plus the fact I needed to attend a Candlelight Bowl hosted by our local chamber and I didn't want to attend alone, led to our third sibling-only gathering. Thanks to Glen for staying home with my kids, and Mom & Dad to staying with Troy's.

Yesterday, we enjoyed an afternoon together at Mom & Dad's, complete with a pop-in visit from our cousin Erik, his wife Meghan, and their friend Jared. Again, my camera stayed in my purse and I have no pictures to record their visit.

After the adults greeted Erik & Meghan, my dad called the kids to come see them. Oh my! All of a sudden a flurry of children ran up the stairs, into the living room and tackled Erik, hugged Meghan, and politely (some of them) shook Jared's hand. (Except Ben. After tackling Erik, turned around and said, "Hey, who are you?" to which Jared said, "I'm Jared." "Oh. I'm Ben." Then Ben shrugged and gave Jared a big hug. Isaac, of course, followed his cousin's lead.)

Today, the boy cousins are hanging at my house, playing with Legos (except when I kicked them outside for awhile after lunch), cleaning their room (with hopes of having a sleepover), and begging to go to the library or Papa & Nana's. The girls are at my Mom's, and there's been talk of sewing skirts for their American Girl dolls. (I promise I'll pull out my camera for that!)

And again I'm reminded of the importance of family. And, as my sister said, "I'm so glad we enjoy spending time together as adults. I can't imagine constantly fighting each other even as adults."

Amen, Carrie. Amen.

Family

hanging out at Grandma's

The 'Big Boys' - Daniel & Joel, with their mom, Aunt Lyn

Grandkids ('Big Boys') & Great-Grandkids ('Little Boys' & 'The Girls')

My children with Great-Grandma & Great-Grandpa Roy
(yes, Roy did make it up from the floor!)

Twelve of us squeezed into Grandma & Grandpa Roy's apartment yesterday - and they were thrilled.

My cousin Joel is home from Iraq for a short leave. He, and his twin brother Daniel, generously agreed to make the 2.5 hour drive with my Aunt Lyn to visit Grandma & Roy. Fortunately, Lyn told Mom they were coming, and Mom told me - and a road trip was born.

Mom frequently makes the trip to Rockford to spend time with her mother, my grandmother. Generally, she'll take Lydia and Isaac with her - especially when the weather is nice. They throw their scooters in the trunk, and for the next week, my grandmother is the star of the retirement community. "Are these your grandchildren?" she's asked. "My great-grandchildren," she answers. (With pride. But don't tell her that, because we're not supposed to be proud.)

Even yesterday, as we toured around the facility and ate lunch with them, people asked her, "Oh, are these the children who scooter around outside in nice weather? These are your great-grandchildren? Oh, we love seeing them here!"

But, the hero of the day was my cousin, Joel. I could just see my grandmother's smile grow bigger when the 'big boys' came in the door. She wanted Joel to sit by her at lunch and hold her hand. Joel is the first of her descendants to serve in the armed forces since my grandfather Henry was a chaplain in World War II.

It was a very special day - made even more special by a game of Crazy Eights with Daniel in Grandma's apartment, big hugs from super cousins, Great-Aunt Lyn and even Great-Great-Aunt LaVerna, who also joined us for lunch.

Somewhere, there must be a poetry book with poems about aunts and grandparents and cousins - poems about extended family, not just parents. So far, I have not found that book. And, since I'm not a poet, here is my humble, somewhat trite, offering for Poetry Wednesday.

Family
author unknown
Hold fast to your family
Wherever you roam
For life's sweestest words
Are still Welcome Home.

Though the poem is somewhat trite, there is nothing trite about an extended family who drive 2.5 hours one way to spend two hours with you. It's worth driving 1.25 hours just to see them.

The Roots of Obama's Rage

I picked up this book from my library's shelf because I thought it read, The Roots of Osama's Rage. As I read the front flap, I became confused, wondering what in the world the Civil Rights Movement had to do with Osama bin Laden.

Then I realized it read The Roots of Obama's Rage, and it was about our president. I debated checking it out, since it was by Dinesh D'Souza. Don't get me wrong, D'Souza's a great author - I've read What's So Great About America and What's So Great About Christianity - both fantastic books. But they read like a dissertation - very meaty, well-documented, and slow reading.

I decided to try it, and I am glad I did.

In The Roots of Obama's Rage, D'Souza explores Obama's motivations. Is he a liberal? A product of the American Civil Rights Movement? Why does he do such contradictory things?

It's interesting to note the similarities between D'Souza and Obama - they are the same age, they both grew up in the Pacific, they both attended Ivy League schools, they are both best-selling authors. Those similarities helped D'Souza evaluate Obama - although he admits it was difficult. He says he made three abortive attempts before hitting on a theory which seems to fit some previously unexplainable actions Obama's taken.

D'Souza argues Obama's worldview is one he has adapted from his Kenyan father - that of an anti-colonial. His arguments come from Obama's own writings and speeches, even off-the-cuff remarks in which we see what makes Obama angry.

Like all his books, D'Souza's arguments are well-reasoned and well-documented. I found this book easier to read than his others, perhaps because it wasn't quite so scientific or theoretical as those. It has more of a psychological-science focus rather than a physical-science focus.

I think The Roots of Obama's Rage is an important book for all Americans to read, no matter your political leanings. I think this book will shock even those who strongly support Obama, especially if they read it with an open mind.

If what D'Souza writes is true, then we, as a nation, need to decide if we agree with Obama's worldview and goals. The future of our country depends upon our decision.

Stately Verse

This puzzle has been a long project. I groaned when I saw the box make an appearance in the living room during school. Anna can't stand to just sit and listen to books, she has to be busy - coloring, drawing, or making a puzzle. But did it have to be so big? And 1,000 pieces?

Yes, it did. And for the past four or five days of school, maybe longer, she has been working on this 3D puzzle of our nation's capitol building. At first, Isaac helped quite a bit, but as the side walls began to take shape, Nathaniel started feeling quite protective of this project, and requested that Isaac keep his distance.

"You're making me nervous, Isaac, being so close."

You can imagine their excitement as they put the roof and dome on this morning - we had to take a break from school to watch the finishing touches. And take pictures, of course.

Then Anna said, "Let's take it all apart and do it all over again!"

To which Nathaniel said, "Let's call Papa and show him first!" (They did inherit the puzzle from Papa's middle-school classroom when he retired.)

In honor of their accomplishment, and in honor of the very rainy day we're experiencing here, I give you this delightful little verse - which has no attribution.

STATELY VERSE

If Mary goes far out to sea,
By wayward breezes fanned,
I'd like to know - can you tell me? -
Just where would Maryland?

If Tenny went high up in air
And looked o'er land and lea,
Looked here and there and everywhere,
Pray what would Tennessee?

I looked out of the window and
Saw Orry on the lawn;
He's not there now, and who can tell
Just where has Oregon?

Two girls were quarrelling one day
With garden tools, and so
I said, "My dears, let Mary rake
And just let Idaho."

An English lady had a steed.
She called him 'Ighland Bay.
She rode for exercise, and thus
Rhode Island every day.

Enjoy more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

Greet March with a Smile

Happy & Mad
I asked them to pretend to be angry.
Isaac said, "I don't like being angry." Neither do I, buddy, neither do I.

Winter has caught up with us. I have never seen, or heard, my children so utterly, completely and entirely grumpy and discontent as they were yesterday. It was awful. Even a trip to the library was only a temporary fix. As soon as they were back in the van, tempers flared again.

The only good thing about yesterday is that my dear husband went grocery shopping - which saved me from taking the temporary monsters out in public again.

Today we all need a smile. A laugh. The sun. Fresh air. We NEED SPRING! Thankfully, we have the sun today, and we will all be getting fresh air this afternoon (especially after I lay down the law: No TV unless you've been outside for at least one hour!).

So, here are some poems which will invoke a smile, and perhaps even a laugh. Thank you Ogden Nash for having such a delightful sense of humor.

The Lama
The one-l lama,
He's a priest.
The two-l llama,
He's a beast.
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn't any
Three-l lllama.

The Fly
The Lord in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.

The Eel
I don't mind eels
Except as meals.
And the way they feels.

And this limerick, with no attribution:

There was a young lady named Bright,
Who traveled much faster than light.
She started one day
In the relative way,
And returned on the previous night.

I feel better already. Don't you?

Read more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

Little Princes

Little Princes: One Man's Promise to Bring Home the Lost Children of Nepal by Conor Grennan captured my attention as few other books have.

As the title implies, this is a very personal story. Personal stories can feel very self-serving, but Grennan manages to avoid that pitfall by providing just enough honest introspection to pull in the reader, then shifting the focus to the culture and children of Nepal.

He tells us of his first introduction to Nepal, the Little Princes orphanage, and the boys in the home. Readers follow his journey from being overwhelmed by all the look-alike boys, to his developing relationships with many of them and recognizing each boy in the crowd.

Throughout the book, we witness his developing friendships with Farid and other foreign nationals working with children in Nepal - as well as his long-distance relationship with Liz. But the overwhelming focus is the children - the boys, and girls, who were trafficked away from their homes and then abandoned in the capitol.

Little Princes is a wonderful introduction to the recent history of Nepal and its continuing problems. Plus, it's a good read.

The Addle-pated Paddlepuss

There's something about knowing the story behind a poem which makes it even more fun to read.

I tend to choose poems which make me laugh, smile or are fun to read aloud. The Addle-pated Paddlepuss is no exception - and I think the back-story is quite interesting too.

Jack Prelutsky wrote an essay included in a book called The Art and Craft of Writing for Children, edited by William Zinsser. In his essay, he explained his inspiration behind this poem.

"Usually we're unaware that we are storing up images. Then one day, suddenly, a lot of things just come together. When I was a kid there was a television program called "You Asked for It." One of the things I saw on that show was a cat that played ping-pong. There was a man at one end of the table hitting the ball, and at the other end was a cat. The cat never missed. A few years ago I went to the University of Oregon, in Eugene, to give a talk, and they put me up with a local couple. The man's two interests seemed to be astronomy and ping-pong. He had a ping-pong table in the basement. We played, and he beat me 21-0. Then he said, "Now I'll play just half of your side of the table and I'll hit all my shots to either you forehand or your backhand - you choose which." And he beat me 21-3. Then he did the same using half the table and playing with his wallet and spotting me 16 points, and he still beat me easily.

Well, "You Asked for It" and the ping-pong-playing cat and this fellow in the basement in Eugene all came together, and I wrote the following poem..."

The Addle-pated Paddlepus
Jack Prelutsky

The Addle-pated Paddlepuss
is agile as a cat,
its neck is long and limber,
and its face is broad and flat,
it moves with skill and vigor,
with velocity and grace,
as it spends its every second
playing Ping-Pong with its face.

The Addle-pated Paddlepuss
prevails in every game,
its opponent doesn't matter,
the result is all the same,
with its supersonic smashes
and its convoluted spins,
it demolishes all comers
and invariably wins.

You can read more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

President's Day

I was at my mom's over the weekend for a Valentine's Day dinner, when one of my children brought me this book to examine.

I gasped, and asked Mom if I could borrow it for Poetry Wednesday.

My grandmother earned this book for perfect attendance as a young girl in Nebraska. If I have my dates correct, she was ten when she received it. She just celebrated her 93rd birthday, and still had it to give to my mother.

The title is Memory Gems, poems compiled by Sam Stephenson, a Nebraska Superintendent of Schools. And if you wanted to order one, all you have to do is send 50 cents to Lincoln School Supply Co in Lincoln, Nebraska.

The poetry is 'graded,' so that easier poems are in the earlier grades and more difficult ones for older grades. It starts with First Grade, which has a lot of Robert Lewis Stevenson, and ends with Eighth-Grade, which has a poem spanning 11 pages. It's called The Building of a Ship, and no author attribution. (Trust me, if I had the ability to write a poem that long, I for sure would put my name on it!)

As I was paging through it, I noticed each grade has at least one patriotic poem. A poem about American History or the lyrics to our national anthem. Since my younger two and I are studying American History in school this year and next, they caught my attention. I'll not copy all of them here, but in honor of President's Day on Monday, here are a couple of selections about, or from, our two most famous presidents.

Washington
James Russell Lowell

Soldier and statesmen, rarest unison;
High-poised example of great duties done
Simple as breathing, a world's honors worn
As life's indifferent gifts to all men born;
Dumb for himself, unless it were to God,
But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent,
Tramping the snow to coral where they trod,
Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content;
Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed
Save by men his nobler temper shamed;
Never seduced through show of present good
By other than unsettling lights to steer
New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast mood
More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear;
Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still
In swerveless poise the wave-beat helm of will;
Not honored then or now because he wooed
The popular voice, but that he still withstood;
Broad-minded, high-souled, there is but one
Who was all this and ours, and all men's -
WASHINGTON.


The Gettysburg Address
Abraham Lincoln

Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate - we cannot consecrate - we cannot hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

(while not technically poetry, Lincoln's speech is so beautiful and so moving I consider it poetry.)

Madoff with the Money

Multi-billion dollar Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff is still in the news, several years after his arrest. Just the other day, I heard an expert interviewed on the radio about the Madoff scandal. The good news I heard is that the prosecutor has recovered .50 on the dollar for investors who lost money with Madoff. (Most people expected them to only cover .10 of every dollar, so that's very good news indeed.)

It caught my attention because I was in the middle of reading Madoff with the Money by Jerry Oppenheimer, an investigative look at the financial mongol who bilked investors of billions of dollars.

In this cleverly-titled book, Oppenheimer reveals what he learned about the childhood and business of Madoff from dozens of interviews he conducted.

He explores Bernie Madoff's parents and siblings, especially Peter, who worked with Madoff in his firm. He follows Madoff's less-than-stellar high school and college career, and explores the questionable start of Madoff on Wall Street.

In this book, we learn of Madoff (and his wife's) foul mouths, disregard for family, and strange quirks.

It sometimes tends to read like a super-long newspaper investigation piece, but it is an interesting and disturbing one. Several of the names were familiar to me from reading Harry Markopolos's book No One Would Listen. (You can read my review here.) Markopolos' role in bringing Madoff down is mentioned in Oppenheimer's book, but he focuses on Bernie, his firm and his family.

After reading Madoff with the Money, I can't help but think that Bernie is the fall guy - and that in no way could he have pulled this off by himself. He wasn't smart enough.

This & That

Ah, the sun. Finally, we have had a week with more sun than snow, although we did get another 3-4 inches over Sunday and Monday.

I remember a conversation between some scrapbooking friends. One grew up in Alaska, the other had recently spent a year in Mongolia. We were talking about how much we enjoyed the Florida winters, and how sometimes it's nice to have a few days without sun. (Imagine that?!)

Michelle, the gal who grew up in Alaska, said something like "During the Alaska winters, we dreaded seeing the sun. It meant it wasn't only going to be cold, it would be really, really, really cold."

Sarah, my friend who spent a winter in Mongolia, agreed. "If it was sunny, I would not leave my apartment at all. It would get sooo cold on sunny days."

"The clouds," said Michelle, "they act like insulation. They keep the warmer air close to the ground. But when it's sunny, the warmer air just leaves."*

That's true here too. It is bitterly cold here today - at least for the Chicago area. Not as cold as it's ever been, but cold enough for the newscasts to fill with information about warming centers and warnings about space heaters.

I read this poem in school today and it made me chuckle. I hope you are having a 'foine day' no matter the weather where you are.**

This and That
Florence Boyce Davis

Mary McGuire's our cook, you know;
And Bridget McCann, our neighbor,
Does whatever she finds to do,
And lives by honest labor;
And every morning when she comes
To help about the dairy,
"A foine day, this!" says Bridget McCann.
"It is that!" answers Mary.

It may be June, or it may be March
With sleet and wild winds blowing,
Whether it's warm and bright and fair,
Or whether it's cold and snowing,
Bridget McCann comes bouncing in,
Her cheeks as red as a cherry,
And, "A foine day, this!" she always says.
"It is that!" answers Mary.

Read more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

*I've rendered the conversation as I best remember it. Since I was either nursing or pregnant and not getting a full night's sleep at the time, I do not claim to remember it word for word.

**I wish I had a cook and a helper with such good attitudes. My kids, who do help, rarely have such chipper, cheerful attitudes. Especially when it comes to helping.

Priceless

I told my friend yesterday I only allow myself to read non-fiction books. She said, "I can't read non-fiction. They're too boring."

Yes, and no. I told her about the book I just finished: Priceless: How I Went Undercover to Rescue the World's Stolen Treasures by Robert K. Wittman with John Shiffman.

Wittman tells his story of how he founded the FBI Art Crime Team... and how the bureaucracy of the Bureau destroyed it.

More interesting is his background - how he always wanted to be an FBI agent, and how his background uniquely prepared him for undercover work and helped him develop his passion for solving art crimes.

He tells wonderful stories about how he recovered some amazing pieces. But the story that overrides all the others were his efforts to recover the paintings stolen from the Gardner Museum in Boston.

If you're not familiar with the Gardner Heist, read a fascinating book by the same name. I wrote a review of it here.

Wittman came pretty close to recovering those paintings, but several events (and people) conspired against him.

It's a disappointing, but real-life, ending to an great read.

By the way, my friend did admit this non-fiction book sounded interesting. That's because it is!

Hibernation

Remnants of our biscuit & gravy breakfast - a rare treat.

homemade chocolate chip cookies. not my forte, but the brownies went to the neighbor who rescued us by snowblowing out half of our driveway. It was totally worth it.

Chex Mix in the oven - almost done!

Instead of our usual Friday night pizza, pizza soup for tonight.
I have too much running to do this afternoon.

The piece de resistance - ingredients for Special K bars.
Another rare, but oh-so-yummy treat.

As I was putting the breakfast leftovers away this morning, it occurred to me I should have been documenting all the food I've made and eaten over the past several days - ever since the blizzard struck.

Since I didn't, I decided to document what I made today - with the exception of the chocolate chip cookies, which I made yesterday afternoon.

Why is it that as soon as the weather forecast predicts a blizzard, I immediately think of food? Anthropologists would say it is a remnant of our need to pack on the pounds for a cold winter with few clothes and flimsy shelters.

I say it's ingrained from childhood. I grew up in the Midwest, and so did my parents. When winter started coming in, their parents (and mine) stockpiled food just in case they couldn't make it to the store for weeks on end. That tendency is still with me.

So is the tendency to want to make our snowbound time fun and I can't resist making it fun with food. I think it's worse than Christmas, because at least I'm mentally prepared for Christmas. Blizzards come almost unawares, the instincts kick in, and next thing you know, my jeans are feeling a tad tight in the waist.

But I also have another excuse for all the baking. My oldest has passed his first piano book and will be having a recital tomorrow at my parents' house. For about 11 people, at last count. But the way I could persuade (bribe?) him to play at a recital was to promise him he could pick the treats. So I just finished making the Special K bars, the Hawaiian Punch (a HUGE treat in this house) is upstairs and ready for the trip across town. The gluten- and nut-free Chex Mix has cooled and is put away - all in preparation for tomorrow.

And I'm done cooking, baking, and otherwise spending my time in the kitchen. At least until the next blizzard. Then we'll have to buy some more cinnamon rolls. 'Cause they were GOOD.

Snow-Fall

In the midst of the blizzardThe early-morning aftermath

Can you believe? The sun!

I was all set with a delightful little poem for today by Jack Prelutsky. Then the blizzard hit. And what a blizzard it was!

We had a ton of snow... and a ton of wind. Because it was so windy, Glen didn't bother to try to keep up with the snow as it was falling. I think the snow in the driveway is at least 3 ft deep - probably deeper. We have drifts on the south side of our house up to 5 feet deep.

It's been a long time since we've had snow like this. I remember the exact day. We were home from Florida for Christmas. Nathaniel was nine months old. He learned to walk on the day of the big snowstorm - New Year's Day 1999. And that time we didn't have the huge wind gusts.

Meanwhile the kids are excited. Nathaniel could not sleep last night because he was so excited about the snow. He sneaked out of bed and watched WGN news from the hallway. How do I know? Because he's been talking to his siblings about it all morning.

It's fun to have Dad home today. The kids were disappointed to have school this morning, but very thrilled with their after-school snack: cinnamon rolls. Hey, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event!

The First Snow-Fall
from "The First Snow-Fall"
James Russell Lowell

The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

Read more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

The Coming Economic Armageddon

Many people have written books about the economic crisis in America - quite a popular topic. Dr. David Jeremiah joins the crowd with The Coming Economic Armageddon.

The title alone makes this book stand out. But so do the contents. Jeremiah writes about our current economy from the perspective of Biblical prophecy. The result is a commentary of current events from a prophetic standpoint.

Jeremiah does not claim to have all the answers to questions about the end times. Nor does he call out any specific dates for future events. Instead, he examines cultural, financial and economic trends and how they fit with what the Bible tells us will happen in the End Times.

I found this book fascinating - and at times quite alarming. The thing I appreciate most about Jeremiah is that he's not an alarmist who leaves us hanging, feeling helpless in the face of the future. He boldly states his point of view, always reminding the reader (who he assumes is a believer in Jesus) of the hope found in Christ.

I particularly appreciated the final chapter, which includes practical application - in light of what we're seeing today, how we can move ahead instead of being stuck in hopelessness.

If you haven't read Dr. Jeremiah's What In the World is Going On?, you should read it first. That book gives a broader look at End Time prophecy and current world trends. Jeremiah refers to it several times in The Coming Economic Armageddon.

Praise of Created Things

I just finished putting dinner in the crock pot. It's not my children's favorite meal, but I like it because it feeds everyone, with leftovers for Daddy, without a need for a second meal for Isaac, my gluten-free guy.

While I was peeling, chopping and browning, I realized I don't hate making dinner like I did say, seven years ago. Part of it is having the right tools, part of it is growing into my role and responsibility of being wife and mother. And a large part of it is making a dinner menu each week so I'm not panicking at 3pm each day, wondering what I'm going to make. Plus, I love making dinner in the morning and not having to worry about it in the afternoon when the kids, and I, are cranky.

The meal I made today contains a lot of vegetables - pepper, onion, peas, potatoes, tomatoes. That got me thinking about gardens, the earth, the seasons. Which lead me to this poem we read in school at some point in the past few weeks.

Praise of Created Things
Saint Francis of Assisi

Be thou praised, my Lord, with all They creatures,
Above all, Brother Sun, who gives the day and lightens us therewith.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor,
Of Thee, Most High, he bears similitude.

Be Thou praised, my Lord, of Sister Moon and the stars,
In the heaven hast Thou formed them,
Clear and precious and comely.

Be Thou praised, my Lord, of our Sister Mother Earth,
Which sustains and hath us in rule,
And produces divers fruits with colored flowers, and herbs.

Enjoy more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

And, in case you're wondering, I'm posting the recipe on my facebook page.

Illinois... Chicago... politics?

I need to admit a few things: I do not follow politics; I am not a lawyer; I do not live in Chicago.

However, I do live in the Chicago TV market, which means I get plenty of news about Chicago's politics. Mostly I ignore it. But I can't help commenting on the big news yesterday. The Illinois Court of Appeals removed Rahm Emmanuel's name from the ballot for Chicago mayor.

It surprised me to hear this, and I asked my husband what he thought. We discussed a simple reading of the law, the definition of residency, the fact that neither of us have studied the law. But we decided that really, Emmanuel was not a resident of Chicago the year before this election.

Then I pointed out that this is Illinois. And the election is taking place in Chicago. I admire those people who have fought, and continue to fight, against Emmanuel being on the ballot. But I think they're fighting a losing battle.

Our former senator is president. Former governors face trial or are in jail. Chicago mayors are routinely under federal investigation. There is not a lot to admire about Illinois politics.

Emmanuel is connected. Our courts (collectively, state & federal) tend to want to make law instead of read the law and rule. I think the Illinois Supreme Court will rule Emmanuel is technically allowed to run for mayor.

That's just my opinion, which doesn't count for much. The most amazing thing about this whole situation is I'm actually interested in hearing the Illinois Supreme Court ruling (assuming, of course, that they hear the case).

The Months

When I was young, the months seemed to drag... Winter lasted forever, school would never end, endless summer days at the beach.

Now, I feel like the days whip by so fast I almost feel whiplash.

I cannot believe how long ago some events happened. Didn't I just move back north a couple of years ago?

Nope - that was in 2004. It's now 2011. Yikes!

As much as I try to savor the moments, the days quickly fly away and I grow older. My children grow older.

I think the years go almost as quickly as this poem:

The Months
Christinia Rossetti

January cold and desolate;
February dripping wet;
March wind ranges;
April changes;
Birds sing in tune
to the flowers of May,
And sunny June
Brings longest day;
In scorched July
The storm-clouds fly,
Lightning-torn;
August bears corn,
September fruit;
In rough October
Earth must disrobe her;
Stars fall and shoot
In keen November;
And night is long
And cold is strong
In bleak December.

Enjoy more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

Speak, O Lord

Quite frequently, I enjoy the privilege of helping lead the music in our church on Sunday mornings. I enjoy the opportunity to sing alto, blending with the worship leader and hearing the skill of the musicians backing us.

Many years ago, some of our Florida acquaintances complained about the '7-11' choruses we sang at church. They preferred the old hymns, with their meaty lyrics. I was puzzled by the '7-11' tag.

"You know," they said. "The song has seven words we sing eleven times. Look for them. They're everywhere."

After that conversation, I started to notice them. I enjoyed the choruses, but I too started to long for some variety. I wanted songs that made me think.

Since then, many artists have updated the hymns, simplifying the chord progression for guitar players, speeding them up a little, updating the lyrics a bit (do you know what "Here I lift mine Ebenezer" means?), adding drums and bass lines.

I've welcomed my old friends, dressed up for the modern day worship team. And I welcome, too, a husband-wife team of musicians, Keith & Kristyn Getty, to whom some refer as 'modern hymn writers.'

I can't say I know all their songs, but I have noticed that of my most favoritest (forgive my grammar) songs to sing on Sunday, they've written several of them.

The tunes are catchy, easy to harmonize, and the words - like sitting down to a banquet. You want to savor these songs.

This past Sunday, we sang one their songs. I think this is my favorite of theirs - at least this week.

Speak, O Lord
Keith Getty, Stuart Townend

Speak, O Lord, as we come to you,
To receive the food of your Holy Word;
Take your truth, plant it deep in us,
Shape and fashion us, in your likeness;
That the light of Christ might be seen today,
In our acts of love and our deeds of faith;
Speak, O Lord, and fulfill in us,
All your purposes, for your glory.

Teach us Lord, full obedience,
Holy reverence, true humility;
Test our thoughts, and our attitudes,
In the radiance of your purity;
Cause our faith to rise, cause our eyes to see,
Your majestic love and authority;
Words of power that can never fail,
Let their truth prevail over unbelief.

Speak, O Lord, and renew our minds,
Help us grasp the heights of your plans for us;
Truths unchanged from the dawn of time,
That will echo down through eternity;
And by grace we'll stand, on your promises,
And by faith we'll walk, as you walk with us;
Speak, O Lord, till your church is built,
And the earth is filled with your glory.

Read more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

Exiles in Eden

If this book weren't due at the library, I'd dig through my pictures to find one of our first little house in St. Cloud, Florida.

We, by the grace of God, built the house - which sits on a retention pond (but because it indirectly feeds into Lake Toho at some point, is deeded a lake) on Pine Chase Circle. We moved in February of 1998, just a few months before our oldest was born.

It was a small house, but we have so many happy memories there. We brought all our four children home from the hospital to that house, we entertained family, we got to know our neighbors, we took walks to see the Christmas lights after dinner. I didn't realize until I moved away how much I loved that little house.

Which is why I picked up this book from my local library here in Illinois - Exiles in Eden: Life Among the Ruins of Florida's Great Recession by Paul Reyes.

I had heard rumblings of the horrors of the Florida housing market from my friends who still live in St. Cloud. Exiles from Eden brought it even closer home.

Reyes spent several months helping his father clean out foreclosed homes in the Tampa Bay area. He sifted through personal things - pictures, letters, and other personal items abandoned along with the houses. He also followed up with former owners, asking them for their stories, their hopes, where they will go from here.

Reyes engagingly keeps the reader's attention not only with his personal stories, but also the stories of people who have lost their homes, the stories of his father's crew, with some Florida history thrown in for good measure.

I found the story of Lehigh Acres fascinating. It's all the more intriguing because of Reyes' parents' personal connection to the community.

Our family moved from St. Cloud in 2004, right when the housing market was starting to really take off. I remember our Realtor telling us that this was a crazy bubble, the banks were making crazy loans and everything was going to burst in about three to five years.

She was right on the money. What she didn't know - and we didn't either - was that the family who bought our house would be a causality too. There was a divorce, then the air conditioning broke, and with no money to fix it, the mother and her children abandoned the house, first stripping it bare.

My former neighbor told me that. I've not heard if it's still sitting empty and forlorn on that block, or if someone bought it for a song from the bank and fixed it up. I have a feeling it's the former.

It makes me want to run down to St. Cloud and rescue my little house so full of memories.