Carter’s Chatter

Andrew earned his first real money at the tire shop this winter when Noel took first my car and then his truck for tires. The man and Andrew established an  instant rapport and Andrew left $13 richer for helping.  He added it to a few dollars he had acquired from birthdays and saved his money for a bit. Then two weeks ago, he had to spend it. When we asked what he wanted, he didn’t seem to know at first — or he didnt’ tell — but just before going to the store, he announced he was buying a fishing pole.

What a great choice! For just under $20, he was purchasing something he could use over and over. Incidentally, $20 is all he had, so he learned about budgeting and purchasing wisely too. The pride he felt when he paid was evident when he told the cashier, “I’m paying for this, not grandma.”

He brought the pole home and assembled it himself. Every afternoon after school, he contemplated his lures and hooks (part of the pole package) and then he went to his mom’s, without the pole. This past weekend, he returned and we went on a first fishing trip. What a great time he had. It didn’t matter that he caught nothing. He learned to find a good fishing hole, bait his hook and cast. He also learned that soft voices and patience are important to fishing and that spending some time listening to the birds and watching bugs and butterflies is okay too. 

Is he going again? Most definitely!

(Check out the pictures on the First Fishing Trip page.) 

We planted these bulbs three years ago and they have always come up, but they have never bloomed because the deer have eaten them first. This year, they blossomed. Maybe our new sensor light scared the deer away.

Today Pastor talked about Mary and Martha in Sunday School. Now I know I am a Martha so I winced when he criticised her. He was right, of course, when he said Mary understood that Jesus wasn’t always going to be with them, so she chose to spend time with Him rather than help her sister in the kitchen. Mary was right; but so was Martha. Both saw something needful and both were doing it. Martha just didn’t accept Mary’s differences, so when she criticised, she was wrong. The reader doesn’t know Mary’s reaction. The Bible doesn’t tell.

Still, I have always felt that the Christian woman should use both women for an example. I believe we should be willing to listen AND be willing to serve. How do we do that? I don’t know all the answers, but one area that has always troubled me are church dinner days. Why do one-third to one-half of the women have to miss the church service in order to make sure the food is ready? After all, tables are set and decorations are ready the day before, and we bring already prepared dishes. They are placed in the refrigerator or the oven or plugged in. Some foods (like breads or desserts) can be placed on the table between Sunday School and Church. For the rest, it only takes ten or fifteen minutes for a crew of women to uncover and place spoons into before the end of church. So I don’t see why we aren’t sitting, listening, like Mary to what we need to hear. Even if people have to wait five or ten extra minutes, what is the rush anyway? Isnt’ part of the purpose of a church dinner fellowship?

I am not criticising those who are more of a Martha than me, but I would hope those ultra Marthas might listen and ask: How can I be more like Mary? Perhaps if they did, more Mary’s could show the Martha side of their personalities.

I found this great website to use in my classroom, but some of my friends might like it too. It is called Triangle Grammar Guide

Leon, a JROTC member, reads at the education station on a Saturday afternoon. The picture was taken for the school newspaper, which I advise.

One year and 21 days before I was born, my parents lost the first child in our family. Mom planned an anniversary party that day for her in-laws. In her haste, she caught her heel in a crack in front of the A&P store, fell and started to miscarry, but she didn’t tell anyone until later that night, after the fun. She told too late. Whether immediate rest would have prevented the tragedy is uncertain. What was certain to me, even at a young age was the regret Grandma, who had lost her first child, felt. I never heard my parents voice their feelings, but I knew the story before I was ten.

            “Was it a boy or a girl, Mom?” I asked.

“It wasn’t old enough to tell,” she said, but something about her demeanor warned me not to ask any more questions, so I never did.

Later, I watched Mom and her sisters play a game that was supposed to answer questions truthfully. To play the game correctly, a person had to believe that some psychic power made it work. I don’t know why my mother played it because she didn’t believe in such hocus pocus. I think she chose to humor her younger sister.

“Go in the other room and play,” she said. I didn’t want to be shooed away, but I went into the dining room where I could still hear. Almost.

Theoretically, when the questioner held a needle on a thread over the player’s wrist, the string swung one way for a yes answer and another for a negative one.

            “Your first child was a . . . ,” Aunt Patricia said. I couldn’t hear the last word, but I thought she said “girl” or maybe I hoped it. I had wanted an older brother.

“That’s not right,” Mom said, almost in a whisper.

“Did you know?” Aunt Shirley asked.

Mom’s whispered reply was lost in the din of the other children in the room. I decided that the lost child was the older brother I had always wanted, and I built the fantasies for a few years – especially since I had already decided that the younger brothers were “brats.”

            When I grew old enough to understand a few more details and I did the math, I realized that if that child had not been lost, I wouldn’t have existed. That information created a feeling of awe which said God chose me instead of him. Or God chose him first. I don’t know which. I questioned why and felt as if I had some responsibility that the first baby did not.

            If that were true, I don’t know what the responsibility is, yet I wonder sometimes and I ask: Have I fulfilled it? Is it still to come? Was there a special purpose? If so, I hope I have – or will – satisfy it.

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