Devout Life thought for Saturday

Just a couple days ago, I started reading Saint Francis de Sales' Introduction to the Devout Life.

It's divided into really short chapters, easily read in five minutes. I'm trying to limit myself to one a day, so I can really digest it - but I see some intriguing chapter titles coming up and am tempted to zoom through more to get further faster. Sadly, I probably require a little longer for the "lessons" to sink in, as much as I'd like to think I'm a quick learner.

I like this de Sales guy. He sounds so kind while he's dispensing life-changing advice on a relationship with God.

Anyway... today's chapter is "The First Step Must Be Purifying the Soul". And here is the sentence that stood out to me the most this morning:

"The soul which rises from out of sin to a devout life has been compared to the dawn, which does not banish darkness suddenly, but by degrees."

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen - I'm growing closer to Jesus by degrees, no matter HOW fast I read this book!

Time Machine

Today I cared for fever-boy (day 3 of 102 degrees and higher); homeschooled; dusted; vacuumed; cleaned a pus-and-blood-filled infected pierced ear on a screaming six year-old; and then hopped into Mike Nalley's Saturn. It might as well have been a time machine, traveling into my past, as we zoomed to the UNLV campus for Rebel Christian Fellowship's Thursday night Large Group meeting.

RCF staff Mattie Goins asked a few of us old fogies from InterVarsity past to come share some of our stories of people investing in us for Jesus and how we in turn invested in others.

We met in the Student Union Theater... a place not in existence in the student union I knew in the 1990s. The NEW student union boasts a Taco Bell and a Panda Express, among other things. It's also three stories high instead of the old two. It's unrecognizable. Somewhere in the new frame, there still exists the exact spot where I first met Kevin Love in 1994. Plus all the old rooms overlooking Pida Plaza and the "mall" where we had countless Large Group meetings when I was a student and then a staff.

I really appreciated and enjoyed being there. I still love college students. It was a joy to meet this new generation - many generations past when I went off staff. I met a guy named John who I am SURE to remember to pray for because #1 - he is following God's call to lead dorm ministry (which both Kevin and I loved); #2 - his name is John, so that's easy to remember (since I have a son with the same name!); #3 - he is a sophomore in Construction Management - just like my hubby (the Construction Management part, not the sophomore part).

It was a good night, and not just because I got to leave behind the fever, the pus, the housework and the bedtime duties (though that certainly was a perk).

Viva RCF!

Uncle Bob

My Uncle Bob died early Monday. He lived in Florida with my Aunt Ann. He looked a LOT like my dad, though he was much older (89, and my dad is 73). There were five kids in my dad's family: Ruth (still living in Allentown); Bob (just died in Melbourne, Florida); Kathryn (living in Allentown); David (died recently in Allentown); and James (my dad). Now my dad is the only living brother, even both his brothers-in-law have passed away. (Another GREAT argument for marrying a younger man, thank you very much!)

One of my favorite photos belonging to my dad is a shot of Uncle Bob, home on leave from the military in 1940-something, and wearing his uniform, giving his little brother (my dad) a big hug.

Bob and Ann used to like to come to Vegas, and I got to drive them around once when I was in college. They were fun tourists.

In 1997, on our way to Puerto Rico, my roommate Dyalma and I stopped to visit Bob and Ann in Melbourne.

In 2001, Kevin, baby Joseph (then 6 months old) and I went to Orlando for an engineering conference and made the drive to Melbourne to see Bob and Ann and my cousin Linda and her family. They rolled out the red carpet, and were so sweet with Joseph. Uncle Bob had a whole room full of an elaborate train set-up and little Joe was amazed by it. Since then, Uncle Bob sent many of his trains to my dad to keep for Joe when he gets older.

Bob was a wonderful grandpa and in most of his e-mails over the years, he wrote extensively about his grandkids' activities and how he was involved. He also kept busy helping at his church and gardening a lot in the Florida soil. Uncle Bob had much of the artistic talent of the Helfrich men, and his carved wooden birds attracted me when I saw them in his home.

He died peacefully in his sleep after a pretty drawn-out and sometimes dramatic battle with many health problems. I'm sad I'll never see him again on earth. I'm even sadder that my dad's side of the family, which has always drawn me, is shrinking. At least the part I know. Our west-coast contingency of the Helfrich family is too many miles away to have kept up relationships in the new generations.

God Bless Aunt Ann, Linda, Debbie, and all the family and friends grieving for Bob Helfrich.

"I Tripped" and other Easter memories

In keeping with the tradition of wearing a new outfit on Easter (found nowhere in the Bible), I wore a new turquoise-colored button-down dress with a bow on the FRONT (to accentuate the belly, seemingly), some new wedges, and jewelry to match. (Part of my new ensemble is visible in the little headshot photo now adorning my blog sidebar.)

We posed for a photo before church, then made our way to Mass. We had to combat a few other families for good seats to be near the kids' choir, but it was all in the Spirit of humility and generosity, I assure you. There was very little grumbling and dirty-look giving.

We walked in the tornadic winds from church to van, then gathered at home for our three-year-old tradition of a two-yard egg hunt. Only a few children had to be anchored to keep from blowing away in the ridiculous wind, the rest were heavy enough, or were weighed down by their candy-filled baskets.

On the way to the neighbors', my new shoes proved to be faulty when scrambling over the tiny rocks that cover my yard. Down I went. Glory and dignity and probably a cuss word under my breath. But no scrapes or bruises, thankfully.

Easter ham and lots of trimmings were served for lunch at the neighbors', then home to change into comfy clothes and try to "blow an egg". (I don't know what else you'd call this activity.) I bored a small hole at each end of an already-dyed egg and tried to blow the white and yolk out to make a delicate decoration. All that resulted was childbirth-like effort (nearly bursting all the capillaries in my face) and blue lips and teeth from the egg dye. I gave up and threw the whole mess in the trash.


The kids played the afternoon away while Kevin worked on an upcoming talk and I read The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. It was a nice relaxing Sunday afternoon, complicated only minorly by my recurring wistful wishes for a bustling, idyllic extended-family gathering. Though I THINK I know better than God, and often imagine what life would be like with dozens of loving relatives gathered 'round - He, in His wisdom (and love) has given me a different life. And can I really complain?---This one has good friends, great husband, lovely children, --- and Easter dinner at Sonic drive-in. My hamburger was delicious, in case you were curious.

Alleluia!

Christ the Lord is risen today!

39 Going On 20

Good news from the gynecologist's office! I have the fertility of a 19 year-old!

Man oh man, when I had her run the extra blood tests, what I was really looking for was some further justification for my grouchiness. "You're pre-menopausal," I wanted her to state. Or, "Boy howdy your thyroid is out of whack!"

Nope. My lab sheets might as well have had smiley faces next to all the test scores. I'm a shiny, healthy, nearly 40 year-old with the hormone levels of a teenager!

Those were her words, BTW, not mine. She said, and I quote, "We see numbers like these on 19 year-olds."

Well, there you have it. My eyes are crinkly, my neck is starting to sag. But my follicle-stimulating hormone is a freakin' spring chicken!

Well, either that or OB/Gyns these days are prompted to give such speeches to their mid-life patients in order to sell more fertility-ending procedures and drugs.

I'm a Catholic, folks. So what this all means for me is four or five more kids before I break a hip. Stay tuned...

Out like a lamb, my fanny

March "went out" yesterday. But not like a lamb, no way, no how. More like a messy, boiling, catastrophic whirlwind of a windstorm. But... this is the new Teri! The new Teri does not complain! She dresses herself in the morning and meets the day's challenges (and disappointments) with smiles! crisp dresses! poetry!

Yes, poetry.

The new Teri replaces complaining with poetry. So---a Haiku about the wind:

"Roaring"
a Haiku by Teri

Dust assaulting all
Whipped into a storm of rage
I'm hiding indoors


There, now. Wasn't that nice? Seventeen pristine syllables instead of a diatribe on all things offensive to me.

Now, I have more Haiku to compose on the following topics:

Small, yippy dogs
Paperwork at doctors' offices
Certain family members
Intestinal viruses
All housecleaning
Politics
Grocery prices