Jesus as our Savior - Lenten Blog Post #6

 And it will be for a sign and for a witness to the Lord of hosts in the land of Egypt; for they will cry to the Lord because of the oppressors, and He will send them a Savior and a Mighty One, and He will deliver them. (Isaiah 19:20, New King James Version)

    On Sundays during Lent this year, I’ve been writing about the different roles Jesus played, including son, brother, friend, and teacher. Today, as we celebrate Palm Sunday and Jesus’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem, I’m sharing verses about Jesus, the Savior. The time had come for Jesus to finish his work and complete his ultimate goal – to save us all from our sins.  

 For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. (Luke 2:11, New King James Version)

 Then they said to the woman, “Now we believe, not because of what you said, for we ourselves have heard Him and we know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world.” (John 4:42, New King James Version)

 And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent the Son as Savior of the world. (1 John 4:14, New King James Version)

 Now all glory to God, who is able to keep you from falling away and will bring you with great joy into his glorious presence without a single fault. All glory to him who alone is God, our Savior through Jesus Christ our Lord. All glory, majesty, power, and authority are his before all time, and in the present, and beyond all time! Amen. (Jude 24-25, New Living Translation) 

This year’s theme for pictures to accompany my Lenten posts is churches I have seen in my travels around the country. Today’s is Bruton Parish Episcopal Church, in historic Williamsburg, Virginia. When we toured Williamsburg two years ago, we arrived at the church in time for the noon prayer service, which was short – ten minutes – but long enough to move me to tears.

Yes, all glory be to God.

 

A Simple Sunset

   Last night, I worked another COVID vaccine clinic, so I didn’t head home until after seven. As I was crossing the bridge, going through town, I was stunned by the remarkably beautiful sunset. Many evenings I am privileged to see the sunset from that bridge, just as I witness the sunrise there in the mornings.

As it often does, it crossed my mind to stop and take a picture, but it was late, and I just wanted to get home. Then as I was half-way through town, I decided, no, I wanted to capture this sunset. What if it were the last I would ever see? That sounds somewhat depressing.

But the truth is that it would be the last sunset that I would see on March 25, 2021.

So, I snaked back through town, following the river, to try to get the same view as when I was on the bridge.

Didn’t quite get there.

I headed south out of town, remembering one last place where I could get to the river.

Aww, perfect.  

That’s our paper mill on the left, which means almost as much to me as the sunset does. Childhood memories of the air in town smelling of rotten eggs from whatever was being dispelled from the mill’s smokestacks and Dad coming home with a different smell clinging to his clothes. The nights the phone would ring at one am, and he’d get called in because the number 2 machine was down.

See what it means to watch one simple sunset?
 

Pouring over the history of the Poorhouse

   If you’ve read many of my blog posts, you realize I love taking pictures. I always have – sometime I’ll prove it to you. Not today.

Old buildings are one of my favorite subjects to snap a shot of. And once I’ve captured those old buildings, I have to learn anything I can about them.

I can’t remember the first time I drove by this building, but I instantly thought it was fascinating.

As luck would have it, when I visited my friend in Minnesota back in January, she was renting an apartment in it. Crazy!

The building was once part of the Wabasha County Poor House complex. In operation from 1873 to the 1930s, the complex included a hospital, residence hall, and outbuildings. In 1982, the property was listed on the National Register of Historic Places because of its local significance in social history. It remains one of the few intact examples of the 64 poorhouse facilities which were established in Minnesota between 1854 to 1926.

From Wikipedia:

In 1864 the Minnesota Legislature passed a law requiring each of the state's counties to provide a facility to care for their poor and aged residents. Wabasha County initially established its poor farm in 1867 on 160 acres in Hyde Park Township. However this quickly proved to be too isolated and large to manage efficiently, so the county secured 32 acres on the outskirts of Wabasha in 1873.

The main building on the property at that time was originally a barn that had been converted to a dance hall. Even though the owner had refitted the building at his own expense before selling it to the county for use as a poorhouse, it and the rest of the existing buildings were not adequate for their new use. These were gradually replaced with new, purpose-built structures, namely the hospital in 1879 and the residence hall in 1883. The latter building contained not only the residents' rooms but a kitchen, a dining room, and quarters for the superintendent.

Welfare largely remained the responsibility of county governments and social organizations until the Great Depression of the 1930s, when federal Social Security was introduced. Citizens in local government facilities were not fully eligible for the new benefits, however, so many residents moved out of the poorhouse network. Wabasha County responded by privatizing the poorhouse, leasing it out as a for-profit rest home so residents could remain and collect federal benefits.

The facility closed as a rest home in 1952. It stood vacant for four years, but from 1956 into the 1980s the main building housed a restaurant and residence.

And now, the two remaining buildings house a number of comfortable apartments.

Jesus as a Teacher – Lenten blog post #5

 Three days later they finally discovered him. He was in the Temple, sitting among the teachers of Law, discussing deep questions with them and amazing everyone with his understanding and answers. (Luke 2:46-47, Living Bible)

During Lent this year, I’ve been sharing on my Sunday blog what different roles Jesus played, including son, brother, friend, and savior. Today I’m writing about Jesus, the Teacher.

The verse above is about the time when Jesus, as just a boy, stays behind in the temple and discusses serious issues with the men there. Even though these men should have been the teachers, it appears that Jesus was teaching them.

In multiple places throughout the New Testament, Jesus is addressed as Teacher.

 They came to him and said, “Teacher, we know that you are a man of integrity. You aren’t swayed by others, because you pay no attention to who they are; but you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. Is it right to pay the imperial tax to Caesar or not? (Mark 12:14, New International Version)

 “The things that happened to Jesus, the Man from Nazareth,” they said. “He was a Prophet who did incredible miracles and was a mighty Teacher, highly regarded by both God and man. But the chief priests and our religious leaders arrested him and handed him over to the Roman government to be condemned to death, and they crucified him. (Luke 24:19-20, Living Bible)

Those verses, and many more, are ones where Jesus is referred to as Teacher. However, they don’t demonstrate how or what He was teaching. For that, I turn to some of my favorite words in the Bible – the parables. There are too many to share here, but just open your Bible to Matthew, Mark, or Luke and seek out as many parables as you have time for.

 Jesus constantly used these illustrations when speaking to the crowds. In fact, because the prophets said that he would use so many, he never spoke to them without at least one illustration. For it had been prophesied, “I will talk in parables; I will explain mysteries hidden since the beginning of time.” (Matthew 13:34-35, Living Bible)

The theme for this year’s Lenten pictures is churches I’ve seen in my travels around the country. Today’s church is in Clarksville, Missouri. When I took the pictures in the spring of 2014, the building's sign claimed it was the United Presbyterian Church. I can’t find it on the map now, but looking at what rough shape it was in then, it's hard telling what its current fate is.

The Calamity Family

   It has been a hectic couple of weeks. I’ve probably said that before, but this time I really mean it.

So, this happened to my son two weeks ago, when two large dogs, on leashes, wiped him out.

Anyone, even without a medical degree, can see the problem. What you can’t see is the ligaments which were torn as well.

Resting the next day. 

Here it is four days later at the orthopedic surgeon’s office.

And here it is this past Tuesday, obviously after surgery.

His sister and I drove down Monday, to spend the night with him and get stuff taken care of around his house. Then we took him into Milwaukee Tuesday morning for surgery, waited around for him to be released and then drove him back up north to stay with his sister to recover for two weeks.

Those two days I had off of work are quickly being made up though, as I worked ten and half hours Wednesday and twelve hours yesterday. We had another covid vaccine clinic from 5:00 to 6:30, and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t get home until 7:45. Woof-da.

I’m running down to see the kids today. Then tomorrow, it’s another shot clinic from 7:30 in the morning until at least 4:30 in the afternoon. Hopefully, I can get out a little closer to on time.

On another note. This is what my husband had going on a year ago

And this was me the year before.

We’re telling my daughter she needs to wrap herself in bubble-wrap come January 1 of 2022. Wish us all the best of luck!
 

Jesus as a Friend – Lenten blog post #4

   I do not call you servants any longer, because servants do not know what their master is doing. Instead, I call you friends, because I have told you everything I heard from my Father. (John 15:15, Good News Translation)

On Sundays during Lent, this year, I’ve been writing about the different roles that Jesus held, from son to brother to teacher to savior. Today I’m looking at Jesus as a friend.

Can you imagine Jesus calling you a friend? But friendship should always be a two-way street. If I think of Jesus as a friend of mine, I stand firm in the faith that Jesus would call me a friend as well.

The first thing that comes to my mind is the hymn "What a Friend We Have in Jesus", originally written as a poem by preacher Joseph M. Scriven in 1855.

What a friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer!

If you wonder what it’s like to be a friend of Jesus, ponder the shortest verse in the Bible.

   Jesus wept. (John 11:35, New International Version)

Jesus had just arrived at the home of his friend Lazarus and is met by his sisters, Martha and Mary. They tell Jesus that their brother is dead and has been buried for four days already. Jesus is moved to tears of compassion for the family. Then he goes to the grave, has the stone rolled away, and calls Lazarus back to life. Now, that’s being a friend.

But the most significant thing that Jesus does is to lay down His life for His friends. 

   Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends. (John 15:13, New King James Version)

This year’s theme for pictures to accompany my Lenten posts is churches which I’ve taken pictures of during my travels. Today’s church is in Illinois, and I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember which town it was in – either LaSalle or Peru. My internet search could not discover it, but those were the towns that I narrowed it down to, based on the exact time and date I snapped the picture. If you are looking for a friend to keep track of stuff, I may not be your person.  

 

Life Has Gone On

 Back on March 22, 2020, I started writing a journal of this pandemic (titled “Covert Corona and How Chris is Coping”) (how clever). Over the past year, I typed nearly 50,000 words, most of which I never meant for anyone to read. As you know, if you’ve been faithfully reading this blog, I have shared some of those entries. Here are a few more of the earlier ones.

On Sunday, March 22, 2020, at 4:09 pm, I opened with:

You would have thought that I would have been all over this long before now, but every time I’ve sat down at my laptop over the last week, I instead got sucked into every news report I could find on the internet, as well as scrolling through everyone’s posts on Facebook, as if they would be sharing news found nowhere else.

So, here we are, March 22, a week into the full-blown reality that the pandemic which we thought would never cross our borders has insidiously infiltrated every one of our states.

 Later that same entry:

Here it is a leap year, and the first person to die in the US from COVID19 died on February 29. At that point, from an article I just read from the Atlantic journal, only 472 people had been tested by then.

Two weeks later, everyone was sharing, “this week we change the clocks, there’s a full moon, and Friday the 13th, it’s like the perfect storm.” I can’t make this shit up. On Friday, March 13, the shit hit the fan.

Entry on Monday, March 23, 2020, at 6:46 am:

I am sitting here in my home office, done surfing the net for now, done reading about COVID19 for now, and trying to psych up to get ready for work, not knowing at all what my day will bring or how long I will be there. Outside my window, four of my deer are mingling. Oh, two more just came along. They don’t have to practice social distancing. And they better not; they need each other for warmth and protection in the winter. Even though I see some of them bullying the smaller ones. Then there is my lame deer, who is not out there now. She knows she has to practice social distancing. Because she is lame, all of the others chase her off when she comes around.

I don’t know if this makes us luckier than the deer or not. Hopefully, we aren’t giving up on our elderly or infirm, or worse yet, just plain killing them off.

But watching the deer out in the yard, as the snow is gently falling, I’m reminded that life will go on.

 I guess the good news is that life has gone on.

 In addition to my random ramblings, I kept track of the running number of cases and deaths. On March 25, there were already 426,000 cases world-wide and 19,000 deaths. In the US, there were 54,816 cases and 789 deaths. In my state of Wisconsin, there were 481 cases and only 5 deaths.

Today, the numbers are worldwide – 119,000,000 cases, 2,640,000 deaths; US – 29,900,000 cases, 543,721 deaths; Wisconsin – 568,000 cases, 6,500 death.

It’s tough to imagine the year we’ve all had when you look at those numbers. But I’ll say it again, life will go on.

I still watch the deer out my window, and 

the lame one made it through last winter and this one. 

Eagles and a Chief

Hard to believe it’s only been five weeks since I was in Wabasha, Minnesota for the weekend. Harder to believe that I’ve been there multiple times over the years and always manage to drive by or walk by the National Eagle Center.  

From their website:

The National Eagle Center is a world-class interpretive center located on the banks of the Mississippi River in Wabasha, MN. We are home to non-releasable bald and golden eagles. During a visit to the National Eagle Center, you can experience these magnificent creatures up close.

The Upper Mississippi River Valley is home to hundreds of bald eagles. Many choose to build their nests in the tall trees along the river valley. Hundreds more bald eagles arrive here in the winter months, as the Mississippi River remains open around Wabasha year-round.

In 1989, we began as EagleWatch, Inc. (still our corporate legal name) as a group of volunteers sharing with visitors to Wabasha views of wintering bald eagles from an outdoor observation deck along the river. We have grown a lot since that time. In 2000, we opened year-round in a small storefront downtown and welcomed our first two Eagle Ambassadors, Harriet and Angel.

In 2007, in a partnership with the City of Wabasha, we opened this 15,000 square foot interpretive center right on the banks of the Mississippi River. From this facility, you can enjoy magnificent views of wild eagles and meet our resident Eagle Ambassadors.

I hadn’t realized that when Hubby and I actually toured the facility in 2009, it was only two years old! I really need to take another tour one of these days.

Just outside, along the Mississippi, is the statue of the city’s namesake. The chief of the area Sioux Nation, Chief Wapashaw.

As you can probably imagine, the original inhabitants of this stretch of land along the Mississippi River were eventually pushed out of the area by a series of treaties. The only good thing that came out of these very one-sided documents is that one of the treaties granted Chief Wabasha’s half-blood relatives a tract of land along the River. The remaining tribe of full-blood Sioux were forced into a reservation first in the Minnesota River area, then to the Dakota territory, and finally to a reservation in Nebraska. Such injustice towards the original people of this country. 

 

Jesus as a Brother - Lenten blog post #3

    "Isn't he the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon? Aren't his sisters living here?” And so they rejected him. (Mark 6:3, Good News Translation)

    Then Jesus' mother and brothers arrived. They stood outside the house and sent in a message, asking for him. A crowd was sitting around Jesus, and they said to him, “Look, your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, and they want you.” (Mark 3:31-32, Good News Translation)

   This year for the six Sundays in Lent, I’ve been writing about the different roles Jesus played. Not only was He the Son of God and our Savior, but He was a son to early parents, a friend, a teacher, and a brother to his siblings. Maybe or maybe not.

Research on this topic led me down a variety of paths. And I can’t tell you for sure which is the accurate one.

In the past, when I’ve read the verses above, I assumed this meant that after Jesus was born, Mary and Joseph went on to have other kids. Now I know this disagrees with what various Christian religions teach – that Mary remained a virgin her entire life so she couldn’t have had offspring with Joseph. I don’t want to argue with anyone on that point, but, for me, the important thing was that Mary was a virgin when Jesus was born, and after that, it’s none of my business.

Several experts report that Joseph had a previous wife, who he had babies with – four boys and two girls, to be exact. But then this wife died, and Joseph, as the old man we sometimes see in nativity scenes, takes Mary as his second wife.

If that is the case, these kids must be already grown by the time their younger brother, Jesus, is born. Otherwise, where were they when Mary and Joseph made that fateful trip to Bethlehem? And how weird was it that they were older than their new step-mom?

Life during Biblical times was way different than it is now.

But back to my research. I found that some Bible experts think that these four boys and two girls weren’t Joseph’s at all. That they would have been cousins to Jesus or maybe even further extended relatives. 

Again, I think that some things get lost in translation, from the original text of the Bible to what we read today. For me, the bottom line is that Jesus was raised surrounded by loving relatives, doting parents, extended family, boys His age that He rough-housed with – okay, or maybe just went to synagogue with.

I picture Him as being a typical boy, who loved to explore, who pondered the things He discovered, who questioned those around Him. I imagine Him being close with the children He was raised with, whether they were half-siblings, step-siblings, cousins, or just close friends.

This year’s theme for pictures to accompany my Lenten posts is churches. I’ve taken pictures of many of them throughout my travels around the country, and even the world. But I wanted to pick only one church per state per week. Today’s is the most recently visited one, St. Felix Catholic Church in Wabasha, Minnesota, taken just the end of January this year.

Eight Acts of Love

I didn’t write a blog post Wednesday because I worked late Tuesday night, helping with another round of COVID vaccines for our patients. Last night I had to work on our tax stuff as we have an appointment with our accountant this morning. You could say it’s been a busy week, or you could say I just don’t budget my time as well as I could.

And other than that I’m rather brain dead this morning (which is actually nothing new).

In case you wonder what else I’ve been doing since the first of the year, finally here are the pictures of the eight throws which I made for the family from Granma Kincaid’s old sweatshirts. A total act of love. Or eight of them. 

Only have Hubby’s left to finish. And then what to do with the 16 squares I have left . . .