A Theme from the Past
Mom and Shelley recently went through boxes of old papers and Mom sent me a packet. I found this theme written for my English class when I was 16. I will be interested in your comments.

A Family I have known--Well
By Jeanne Schaap
December, 1962

We had been sitting in our places at the dining room table for several minutes and still only four faces were present. Daddy, who had called Julie loudly several times, had a look of impatience and sternness on his still young face. He is a handsome man in his late thirties with a slight graying about his temples which, my conscience told me, was from worrying about his teenage daughter. You see, he has never had one before, and I am sure it is quite a trying experience for him. But he and Mother are a great comfort for each other when the going gets rough. Mother is a very attractive woman and still looking in her twenties. I often remind her of how boys take us for two teenage girls when we're out for a drive. This seems to bring delight to her eyes and a new bounce to her steps. Other young people may label their parents "fossils" or "the old man and the old lady," but not me; they are wonderful companions--two of the most fun and understanding people I have ever known.
Even a family as close-knit and loving as ours has times when everyone seems to be at one another's throats; when usually resembling a song with all the notes in harmony, it suddenly becomes a group of notes horribly out of tune and unpleasant to the ear. I knew, as we were all sitting there and waiting for Julie, that this meal might have this unfortunate atmosphere.
Julie finally appeared like a small black storm could on an already gray sky. She whined and pouted about kicking her toe on the bathroom door. Julie was eight years old and in the third grade. She was full of life from her head to her injured toe, and whatever she did, she put her whole heart into it. At the moment, she was concentrating wholeheartedly on her misery. I glanced at Daddy and there was absolutely no doubt that he had had enough. All he did, though, was to bestow on Julie his father's unhappy look which, by the way, could make your blood run cold, and Julie's unnerving whining ceased--for a while anyway.
Daddy prayed a short, rather abrupt prayer and his voice indicated that he had had a hard day at work. My twelve year-old sister, Shelley, informed us all that the food was cold. I noticed that she had not even tasted it yet, and immediately told her so. Mother said that I shouldn't speak with such a tone of voice to my sister and Julie added "Oh, Mother!" (She doesn't like being left out things.) There was a golden silence for awhile, but Daddy feared an argument might start again, so he made an attempt at making five grumpy, grouchy people into five happy kindred spirits. He said, "How about all piling into the car next Friday, hooking up our Nimrod camping trailer, and going to Florida for Christmas vacation?"
Daddy could not have anticipated the following reactions: Julie resumed her pouting with twice the volume of before and the words "Brownie...Christmas...party" could be heard among the noises that sounded like a sick puppy. Shelley accused Julie of always whining, and Mother corrected Shelley for making a personal remark, a term frequently heard in the Schaap household. I let out a disgusted sigh, almost as long as it was loud. I made sure that everyone knew I disapproved of this idea wholeheartedly. Then it really began. Four cloudy faces turned to me and demanded my reasons.
"Do you realize that all we do is travel?" I answered, my voice rising. "In the summer we go camping; during Thanksgiving vacation we visit relatives. I'm sick of all this traveling! Why can't we be normal and stay at home for once!" Daddy looked hurt, and I knew inside of me that I didn't really mean all that I was saying. I knew that I was lucky to have parents that liked to get out and see the country we live in; to do interesting things and go to interesting places. I knew we had a wonderful time on our trips and sometimes regretted coming home. But I felt so angry and tense, I didn't know exactly why, that I had to say those things...and I went on to say more, all the time getting angrier and losing my self-control. Daddy yelled that he had heard all he would from me. He had to yell to be heard above my voice.
I felt tears start to my eyes and they stung. They weren't tears about the possibility of the trip, they were tears of guilt. I knew it must hurt my parents very much to have me be so disrespectful and ungrateful after all they had done for me. It was very painful to realize that I could hurt them so much when I loved them so much. I wanted to leave the table, but I knew that would only make things worse. So I proceeded to eat rapidly while gazing fixedly at the pattern on the china. When I glanced up, I noticed that everyone else was pretending to be concerned with their dishes, and avoiding each other's eyes.
"I have an idea," said Mother after several minutes of busy eating. Everyone's head popped up and the faces looked hopeful. We all seemed anxious for the notes of the song to come back into harmony. "How would you like it if I wrote to the Wests, the Womacks, and Nana, and invited them all to a good old-fashioned Christmas at our house. We've never done that before." Before she had finished speaking, Julie was squealing like a happy, playful puppy. Shelley began telling us exactly what she was going to write in her letter to Jane, her cousin. Daddy and I began congratulating Mother on her idea and asking her if it wasn't going to be too much work for her. "Oh, I'm already looking forward to it," she said. We began making plans for baking Christmas cookies and cakes, and for decorating the house for the gay and colorful season. Daddy told me that he guessed that the trip would have been expensive anyway, and that he was looking forward to a Christmas at home.
Where the meal had started like the Bubonic Plague, it ended like a book with a happy ending. That night as I lay in my bed, mustering up the courage to go and apologize for the childish way I had acted, my father opened the door quietly and looked in to see if I was asleep. When he saw that I wasn't, he crossed the room to my bed and said that he had come to apologize for yelling at me at supper. Who could beat parents like that! I explained with a lump in my throat that grew with every word, that I hadn't meant what I said, and I was sorry. He said he understood and he was sincere. I felt like hiding my head under the covers, I was so ashamed.
Just as I was dozing off to sleep, I heard Julie praying in the next room"...and bless Mommy and Daddy and Shelley and Jeanne. And thank you for our nice family." The End

I must add that I remember well why I did not want to go to Florida for Christmas that year: I had just started dating someone, and that someone practically ruined our lovely family Christmas at home.

A Really Hilarious Blog

Hi Family,

OK, here is the funniest blog I have seen in a long time. It's called "Stuff Christians Like." It's a ripoff of another funny blog called "Stuff White People Like", but the Christian one is even funnier. It's so entertaining!

An Interesting Maundy Thursday

On the afternoon of Maundy Thursday, I received the call Jan and I had been waiting for all week from the Council of Governments re the high-paying job I had interviewed for. They said they had decided to hire my former co-worker, Lisa, who was laid off the same day I was. I was terribly disappointed since I had already envisioned myself sitting down to write hefty monthly checks to pay our debtors off during the next year.
At 7:00 Jan and I went to the Maundy Thursday Mass together which commemorates a number of big events--the Lord's Supper, Jesus washing his disciples' feet, his anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane and the arrest. As I knelt in the pew with the others, I got angrier and angrier. I was mad at first because the service started off with a hokey contemporary song. Then I realized that I was jealous of Lisa and told myself to get over it, but then I started thinking about th huge injustice of the whole thing. I had worked closely with Lisa and she had a really lousy work ethic. I came in half and hour early every day, she came in half an hour late. She surfed the net a good three hours a day, I worked through lunch hours. Her Coordinators would come to me on a regular basis and ask to be transferred to my team. AND THEY PICKED HER!
"Pity party" does not come close to describing my state of mind. Jesus is being kissed by Judas, getting arrested, his disciples are running off as fast as their little cowardly legs can carry them, and I am the so wronged that I'm not going to sing these hymns.
I am thinking I probably should not receive communion in this state and I ask the Lord to help me know whether to go up or not. At the last second I go up, asking very coldly for forgiveness for my anger. I take communion, go back to my seat, and kneel again as the priest, choir and congregation sing the Pange Lingua (an ancient hymn meaning "Sing my tongue" about the mystery of Jesus as the Passover lamb, the saving victim.) It's been sung for centuries during Maundy Thursday. Suddenly about ten minutes after taking communion, I realize that since taking communion, I hadn't had even one thought about losing that job, and my anger was gone, absolutely gone. My first amazed thought was, "where did it go?" It was like the pew in front of me had just completely disappeared. Those of you (Mother, children) who know me well would know that this just doesn't happen with me. I can eventually let go over time, but not like this. I had absolutely nothing to do with this change of heart, so much so that I wasn't even aware that it had happened for a full ten minutes.
How do I explain this? Perhaps because I was absorbed unconsciously in the power of the old ancient hymn, the Pange Lingua. Perhaps because I was surrounded by things so much bigger and greater than me, what Jesus went through, the church remembering these things together for 2000 years, taking part in the Last Supper. In the presence of these great truths, in the presence of Jesus in his church, my anger became a little pin prick of light in the dark sky and then-- was extinguished.
After the service, Jan and I walked to our car in the cold dark night. We were at peace because had been there together.

Some my favorite blogs are ones that not only have good writing by the authors, but also contain wonderful quotes and links to other helpful articles. I do hope to write on this blog myself, and I hope that you all will too, but sometimes, others can just say it better than I can. Here's a wonderful, inspirational message from a blog called A Wise Woman Builds Her Home.

Some days I prance about my home and tell my daughters "I have the best job in the world." I say this because I do. When I was a little girl I dreamed of many things that I could become, but in the deepest recesses of my heart there was always the desire to marry. Imagine my delight if only I had known I would marry and have eight little blessings! Some days I sit on my couch and gaze out my window and sit in wonder of how God sovereignly placed me in my home---what a wonderful life God has given me. At times I feel like pinching myself just to make sure this is all real.

Everyday I wake up I know have the day at my fingertips. What do I want to do today? What do I feel like doing? Surely there are requirements of me, but to have this kind of freedom within my day is incomparable to what most of the world faces daily. There is no boss --only Jesus, and my home beckons me to use my creative juices to the fullest. Didn't I also want to be a teacher at one point when I was about ten? Yes, that desire is fulfilled now as I homeschool my children.

My days are full. Full of love, hugs, kisses and blessings. And surely full of hard work, messes and challenges.. but all of this is undaunting when I think of all the moms who have to rush out at sunrise and drop their little babies at the local daycare--only to pick them up in the evening and do it all again the next day.

I can try my hand at just about anything that interests me---from blogging, to gardening to a full range of ministry opportunities. I don't face the same time constraints as many woman do. I am free to do as I like in my home. I can create any atmosphere I desire and stop any endeavor I don't. The Lord has richly blessed me to be in such a position, my heart aches for the women who are unable to do this because I cannot imagine the hardship that comes with being divided against your home and children for the sake of having to work. Or let me take that back, I can imagine it, and that is why I pray for them.

It is always an adventure around here. It doesn't get dull or boring because I am in control. My days are filled to the brim with exciting possibilities. One minute I am full fledged interior decorator and the next I am Taste of Home's newest budding chef! Some day's you can will find me feverishly planning the years events, vacations and parties for our home and the next I'll spending time teaching myself all I can on the innerworking's of a church--which, is in my opinion, icing on the cake!

So don't look at your blessed homes as drudgery, dear mothers and daughters. It's from the outflow of your heart that will be put into that sacred place. Learn to love your home and the outpouring of that will overflow into the rooms and souls of all who live within it. You will absolutely experience the richness that comes with this abounding opportunity to bless those around you in the greatest journey of your life---living out your dreams with those whom you love most....your family.

She has such a refreshing perspective that can be easily lost in the day-to-day shuffle. I really needed to read this after having sick little ones for a week now, being up a lot at night, so I thought I'd pass it on to you.

Shelley the Queen

I've been meaning to write this for some time since David and Elizabeth's wedding.
I arrived at the Nashville restaurant just in time for David and Liz's rehearsal dinner. I saw Phil for the first time in years, then David. I never had the opportunity to speak with Linda. I checked her out often from a distance, of course, and she is a lovely looking woman, much to my disappointment. I was hoping she would look old and hard, but no. Shelley looked better, though, radiant as usual, and she and Jack were wonderful hosts at the dinner.
The next day was the wedding. I am in tears everytime I tell anyone in my family about this. The only way I can describe this is to say that the Lord had raised Shelley to shine like a little star, (I don't mean a little Hollywood star--a real star) , so at peace, so gracious and high-hearted in her cheery way. She just literally shone in regal beauty, especially as she and David danced their exquisite little dance together during the reception. I saw a picture of the queen of Sweden once, and I kept thinking, "Shelley is our queen of something glorious."
I think we all have an idea what that something glorious is. Left as a single mom when her children and her family were her highest dreams, she struggled hard to squelch the bitterness and vindictiveness to which she was so entitled, for the sake of her children. She always put their best interests ahead of her own feelings and worked hard to provide the best home possible. She asked the Lord for the strength to do these things, and he answered mightily. Lster, He brought a wonderful man into her life that appreciates her as her sister thinks she should be appreciated--for her loveliness, her excellent sense of humor and her character.
Do you all remember the part in Lewis's Great Divorce, when in heaven a procession of angels goes by with a glorious woman leading the procession and the main character asks "Is that the Blessed Virgin Mary?" The angel says, "No, that is Sally Smith of Golders Green."
Shelley is our Sally Smith of Golders Green, our queen.

Jeanne & Jan in college

Come on you guys!

Hey, what's with you slugs out there? This was Jeanne's idea and still no posts! Shelley didn't know about it so she has a good excuse if she doesn't want to participate. I loved Mary Anne's question -- great idea to ask questions for all of us (not just "old" women responding). I guess some people have a life! And right now much of mine is spent blogging, I'm embarrassed to admit. There's been some talk of someone writing questions for a spiritual survey (like the ones we've enjoyed emailing around). Anyone up to the task?? I guess since I just admitted to having time on my hands it may have to be me. Could you all submit an interesting question or two that you would like to hear other people respond to? I'll compile them and send the email around.