Of Wine and Ice And Boys and Men

We recently started the New Testament in our study of women in the Bible at the jail. Naturally, Mary, the birth mother of Jesus, is the first one and I have to admit that studying her life has been somewhat of a challenge. I find it easier to relate to wounded or imperfect women than those who seemed to get it right.

So this week I've studied John 2: 1-11, the passage about Jesus's first miracle where he turned the water to wine. It's a very familiar story but for me I just never quite "got it." Sure, it was all there, the wedding, the guests, the water, the pots, Mary, Jesus and the other characters. But what happened between them . . . that's the part that always troubled me. The way Jesus addressed his earthly mother never seemed right. (Without getting too theological here I know it was right, after all He is God. ) One commentator offers this viewpoint, another commentator says that, it seems they're just as confused as I am. Then there's this whole holy mystery of Mary and Jesus shrouded in this theological cloud of mumbo jumbo anyway. Yeah, troubling.

There were a few new revelations. It seems Mary may have been more than an invited guest. As with many weddings friends and family work together to pull off festivities for a new couple. Mary's having the authority to tell the servants what to do give the impression that she's in charge somehow. Else why would the servants obey Jesus?

So I prayed through the passage. It's not something I do often, and admittedly should do more, And this time, boy did I ever get it. When I got to verse four I heard my own son's voice from deep somewhere in my memory.

It was a hot day, a bunch of people were on their way to our house, and we were out of ice. I couldn't leave because I had to greet people and eagerly asked the first person to arrive, my Mike, to run to the store for a couple of bags.

Big Sigh . . "Woman, what am I gonna to do with you?" And he took charge of the situation and saved the day. Nobody knew we had even been out and everyone had a great visit.

Jesus . . . Mike - what an interesting and delightful comparison. Both needs were real, both requests were made by mom's trying to pull off a social event and thinking about the needs of others, and both needs were met by a man/child in process of becoming an independent adult. Mike got the ice. Jesus turned water to wine.

So Jesus's words, "Woman, what have I do do with thee?" no longer read as a rude "get out of my face" remark. I hear Mike. Everything will be ok.

And I hear Jesus lovingly saying, "Roslyn, what am I going to do with you?" And I know he's got it all under control. He's God. He can do that.

More Weeds to Love Well, if I keel over before anyone reads this from alkaloid poisoning, this post will have to serve as my last communication. I don't think I'm any danger though. Yes, I know the photo is downright frightening, but in a way it's super cool as well. I attempted to have this tree identified some years ago. I don't know if my photo wasn't that good or what, but the tree expert extension agent in the next county missed it completely. I learned it's true identity a few days ago. It was a rainy day and I had some business to handle with my former neighbor who is now my insurance agent. Like friends do, we caught up on everything under the sun, including a story about how my fire ant cream helped one of his kids. Then out of the blue he reminisces about something that happened to him before that last kid was even born. An old fellow took him out riding in his old pickup truck down a dirt road up near Evergreen. He showed him a tree, peeled off a piece of bark and had him hold the underside against his gum. In a few moments he didn't feel a thing. . . . the gum was numb. It was an old Indian remedy for toothaches. It was a fascinating story, and out of the blue Roy had his friend on the phone. I was even able to talk to him and here's the rest of the story. The tree is a Prickly Ash, aka Southern Prickly Ash, aka Toothache Tree. It's not common and is most often found on, you guessed it, fence lines. And there's more to it than numbing gums. Turns out it's good for arthritis and will, in his words, "clean your arteries." It's supposed to "reduce bad cholesterol and raise good cholesterol" I found out earlier this year that I have high cholesterol, so I figure there's not a lot to lose by giving it a shot. I already know it won't kill me because I positively identified my trees by putting the underside of a piece of bark on my gum. It actually numbed the whole left side of my face. So I'm going easy on the stuff. Bark is soaking in a mason jar with apple cider vinegar and I'm told it tastes really bad, but thats no biggie . . . a spoonful of sugar, I mean honey, will help it go down. And isn't ACV and honey supposed to be some kind of miracle cure for a lot of stuff anyway? So what if it's got a few alkaloids in it. But just in case, you've got a photo of the molecule for the autopsy.

Facing Fall

Well, I've got 18 more minutes of Sept. 1, 2009 and I'm still wondering what happened to August. Most years I dread August. Here in the southeast corner of AL it's a miserable month with miserable heat and humidity. I've dealt with it mentally for many years by quietly counting the weeks till the temperatures let up.

I've not had to do that this year. We left early in the month and headed north. Brian had a long anticipated meniscal transplant and we went up to be with them. It was our first trip to Raleigh since he and Bonnie got married. While it was still hot there, except for walking Lucy, our grand-dog, we didn't feel it too much since helping them through those first few rough days after surgery was priority - which meant staying inside. Bonnie has some great shots if anyone wants to venture over to their blog . . . and yes, I was sewing during the surgery. It relieved the frustration of endless CNN newscast repeats and I secretly wished the bags I was stitching were voodoo dolls of certain persons whose leftist lies we had to endure in the waiting room. Making family members endure health reform brainwashing tactics during a stressful time is not the way to win them over.

Coming home was better than anticipated - Norman stopped at Ikea in Charlotte and gave me the tour. At home we were greeted by a tropical storm! I love those things. They don't do nearly as much damage as hurricanes and tornadoes, but do bring blessed rain and cooler temperatures. We even dipped below (gasp!) 70 several nights.

Of course we had an overgrown yard, overgrown garden, piles of mail and projects and bills to deal with on return . . . all expected, and still not all dealt with yet. But we're home and trying to slog through it all. There have been a lot of joys - seeing Beck back to college by the skin of her teeth, reuniting with old friends, Bible study with my peeps . . . and there have been some devistations too. I take comfort that God's got that under control.

In other news, Cindy has taken it upon herself to continually bless us all with her wry humor. I have to be the #1 fan of FriendADay. Those 100 visitors yesterday . . . I love Facebook posts!

The days around the fourth weekend were interesting. Mike, Heather and a friend drove to the west coast to be in a wedding only to be rear ended in southern CA and miss the rehersal after getting lost. Then the minister, our much loved BroJo, came up missing Sunday morning. Our cat, Lucky, (and yes, we heard the crass jokes about her getting lucky) had four sweet kittens under the guest bed while hoards of frantic friends and family, ourselves included, tried to find Joel across three thousand miles. My reward for helping find him finally, and then finding the kittens, was being hissed at by a newborn kitty. I thought I was imagining it at first, but it pretty much hisses at me every day. Ok, so maybe they're not all so sweet - the jury is still out on that one.

I also got to the jail late because of all of the above, only to be turned me away because they were under quarantine.

Then last weekend we doubled our apiary when another beekeeper threw in the towel and we obtained their bees and equipment. God bless my dear husband for his support and help, and for enduring multiple stings after his first encounter with a hot hive.

So now it's, whoops, two minutes into September 2 and my calendar is already bulging. I worked at the computer so long today I thought my eyeballs were going to melt out of my head, and after making a cute repurposed purse, well, here I am again. At least this is somewhat more pleasurable.

So if you see me sometime this month, you can be sure I probably need a hug, a big one even. Between the bees, upcoming classes to teach, upcoming projects to complete, upcoming trips, another farmer's market starting and trying to hold down the fort at home, yeah. . . . it's good to be home.