Last night our children participated in an incredible evening of worship and carol-singing at ChristChurch Presbyterian.  Singing. Dancing. Dramatizing. Completely rocking out on the piano.  Words are inadequate -- just make plans to come next year.  

So as we are having a lovely mother-daughter time, singing carols on the way home, my girls (ages 6 and 8) tell me that they don't know the words to Silent Night.  (Although I am fairly sure that they know all the "Party in the USA" lyrics.) 

Apalled, I dutifully set to teaching them the words, some of which sound strange to their 21st century ears.  Of course, we pretty quickly come to the phrase "'round yon' virgin," which I try to handle as delicately as possible.

 "'Round yon'" means "over there."  "Virgin".......is........well....it's........ "a girl or woman who is not married."  (Right?  Who's with me on taking the high road?)

So, in the afterglow of our spiritually profound evening and in the midst of our carol meditation, my six-year-old says, "I get it.  Wonderwoman is a virgin.  But Superwoman is not a virgin because she's married to Superman." 

Exactly. 

Somehow I'm not sure this is the emphasis Austrian priest Joseph Mohr was going for when he wrote those lyrics 200 years ago. 

We're just keeping things updated 'round here.

Wonderwoman.  Pure.

Superwoman.  Not-so-pure. 

Father Mohr.  Rolling over in his grave.

What's in YOUR Freezer?

Can a 33-year-old woman survive on a diet comprised mostly of Lean Pockets and hot coffee?  

I'm well on my way to fiinding out.  

Please visit me when I'm in the hospital with scurvy.  

And please bring an orange. 

Wildlife in the .18 Acre Wood

There was an exciting siting on our in-town acreage this afternoon. 

 Living on less than 1/5 of an acre, we find that glimpses nature and wild creatures are few and far between.   (Conversely, we have the pleasure of not owning a lawn mower.  It's a trade-off.)  So anything that flies, creeps, or slithers into our little garden is something to be examined by the entire family. 

Here's what fascinated us today:

Hello Mr. or Mrs. Barred Owl

Side Note:  When my girls called me out to see our friend owl, my bookwormish second-grader said, "Mom!  This is like a thrice-in-a-lifetime sitage!"  I don't think "sitage" is a word, but "age" sounds like a suffix she picked up at Georgia Tech.   "Thrice" I will have to attribute to her nerdy heritage (she may or may not have grandmother who bought a VCR in 1985 for the sole purpose of taping "Jeopardy" episodes), and before she starts junior high, I'll give her the "using-Middle-English-probably-isn't-that-cool-anymore" talk.  But until then, we'll look at owls together, and I'll get a kick out of her using words like "thrice."

After we worked through our vocabulary issues, we were mesmerized as we watched the owl watch us, doing all of that owly head turning.  It was very poised and not threatened by us in the least.  Those city owls are bold, I've heard.  And they also eat rodents, which is very good for our pest control budget. 

But the best part was just how different it was from anything I would have designed.   God's creativity as displayed in nature is breathtaking.  

Psalm 19 puts it this way:    

The heavens declare the glory of God;

The skies proclaim the work of His hands. 

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.
There is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard.
Their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world. (niv)

All we have to do is listen and respond.