And BINGO was his NAME-O

I have a very conservative heritage. There were no playing cards allowed in my grandmother’s house, and my parents did not allow dancing at my wedding. Lest you find them prudish, they are great people who are lavish with their love, and they truly felt like there were some temptations that were better avoided.

On my honeymoon, I met a 73 year old Jewish woman from Florida named Myra. She and her husband had recently sold the chain of discount liquor stores that they owned, and so they now took cruises several times a year in their retirement. I met her on the pool deck on the first day.

We became fast friends, and later that afternoon, Myra invited me to go play bingo on a lower deck. I had NEVER played bingo before, as it was considered gambling in my home, but I was a grown and married woman now, AND the idea was intriguing, so I tagged along.

It is now 17 years later, and even though I have managed to resist the temptation to play every Tuesday night at the local Catholic church, I must admit I became obsessed with winning bingo on that trip. I never missed a chance to play (neither did Myra) but I chalked my persistence up to the fact that I needed a break from the Caribbean sun by the time 4:00 pm bingo rolled around.

Since I am in confession mode, I will tell you that every vacation that I go on, if there is bingo to be played, I participate. I even dragged my children into the obsessive pit last week with me.

I have probably played a total of 27 games of bingo in my life. Considering I have lived approximately 15,330 days, that is pretty insignificant, but in all that time, I have NEVER won. Every game I am convinced that I will win, but I never do.

We traveled with another family on our vacation last week, and my husband had warned them ahead of time about my vacation bingo addiction which they found very amusing. The first evening of our trip, they tagged along, much as I had done with Myra years ago. Would you believe that their 9 year-old daughter won the $500 first night jackpot?? No kidding.

To make matters worse, her mother (my friend) won $98 the next night AND won a free string ray excursion. We had already chosen that particular excursion, so the ship happily refunded her pre-payment as part of her winnings.

I already suspected, before the trip, that I was unlucky, but I could no longer ignore the cosmic confirmation of my unluckiness anymore.

So, because of my background, I was tempted to wonder if God kept me from winning. I already have that natural guilt-o-meter built in, but to assume that God would intervene in a bingo match to teach me a lesson is an interesting perspective, isn’t it? Does God even care about bingo? Probably not. Does God care about how I use the money and resources that He has given me? Definitely.

Which, of course, brings me to my point. I think sometimes, in our efforts to always do right, we can consider God to be a cosmic kill joy or we imagine that He would thwart our fun. I don’t think God was terribly upset about bingo, but I know He wants me to think about the time and money I was wasting – and, really, for what?

It’s a great life question really – one that we should ask before playing bingo or performing brain surgery…

For what?

Myra lived quite a few more years after my honeymoon, and we exchanged Hanukkah/Christmas cards every year until she died. Wonder what she’s doing now every day at 4:00 pm.

Let's face it

While I was on vacation, I won a free facial. Let me try to explain the problem with that.

I have RIDICULOUSLY sensitive skin. Even very expensive, all-natural products bother my face, and so I walk around with the complexion of Winston Churchill most of the time.

Never one to pass up on FREE, however, I decided to explain to the woman at the salon about my ever present ruddy situation – thinking that she may have some helpful hints to help me.

I was treated like royalty upon entering the place, handed a refreshing glass of mint water, and invited to wait in a sound proof room that was pumping in classical music. Delightful.

A gorgeous woman from South Africa then came to collect me, and take me to a treatment room. The room was immaculate, quiet and painted in soothing colors. I marveled at my good fortune, sat on the treatment table, and waited to begin.

The gorgeous woman was named Chane (SHANAY). We spoke at length about my hyper-sensitivity problem, and she nodded with confidence. I was in good hands.

As the facial began, I was invited to lie down upon a table and was covered in warm blankets. Irish flute music was playing, and the lights were dimmed. All the creams and clays smelled so great, and I almost fell asleep as Chane wiped and examined and pampered.

Afterwards, I sat back up and took a moment to wake up. Dear Chane was smiling at me and asked if I was ready for “a little chat.” Sure, I thought, why not? Everything still smelled great.

Suddenly Chane’s face turned grim. Whatever the news, it wasn’t good.

“Your face is in serious trouble,” was how she began. “You seem like such a lovely person, why wear a face that doesn’t reveal your beauty?”

PAUSE: At this point in our story, I was feeling more disbelief than actual hurt. I took a quick look around the serene room for the Candid Camera.

Chane went on, “The circulation around your eyes is very poor. You obvious laugh a lot, because your laugh lines are frighteningly deep. And, honestly, I would like you to see our Botox specialist. It’s a free consultation, and I really think it would help solve many of your issues.”

BOTOX is such a fascinating word, isn’t it? It’s on par with CELLULITE and GIRDLE and GRAVITY.

After more scary facial revelations, Chane handed me a paper with all her recommendations written in tidy handwriting. If I had purchased all of her suggested products (some for everyday, some for monthly use and some quarterly) I would have spent $ 2,138 on face creams. I think I added a quarter inch to my laugh lines just then as I imagined my husband’s face when I explained the bill.

All of a sudden, though, right there on the table, it wasn't funny. I had the most grippingly sad moment for women who actually spend their time trying to be younger. Someone must follow all these instructions or they wouldn’t exist, right? I suddenly felt very weighted in the light room, and if there are sadness lines, I’m sure I started on them. Preying on insecurity, beauty experts clean out our wallets and our sense of self.

Sure, I want to look nice – who doesn’t? But there is something deeply troubling about that much self-focus.

I smiled and thanked Chane profusely for her time and attention. I assured her that the whole experience was terribly relaxing, but went on to explain that I love my lines. I laugh out loud freely and often, and I guess it shows.

I think it’s worth it to mention that the products destroyed my skin. Later that evening, I could feel the burning and tightness beginning. Days later, I am currently walking around with huge red and scaly patches all over my face, and Winston Churchill is actually prettier than me right now.

Prettier. Not happier.

Where to start, where to start...

I have been away with my family. It was a great time.

I observed SO many things that I want to discuss with you that I'm not even sure where to start, but let me just give you some hints.

I think I'm a Communist.

A woman told me I need Botox to my face.

I saw the best and worst of humanity.

I did not win even one game of BINGO. I am officially the unluckiest person I know.

And, after I finish the laundry, we'll talk about it all week. See you tomorrow.

Obvious to what

“… those of us who have the nerve to call ourselves Christians will do well to be extremely reticent on the subject. Indeed, it is almost the definition of a Christian that he is somebody who knows he isn’t one, either in faith or morals. Where faith is concerned, very few of us have the right to say more than—to vary a saying of Simone Weil’s—“I believe in a God who is like the True God in everything except that he does not exist, for I have not yet reached the point where God exists.” As for loving and forgiving our enemies, the less we say about that the better. Our lack of faith and love are facts we have to acknowledge, but we shall not improve either by a morbid and essentially narcissistic moaning over our deficiencies. Let us rather ask, with caution and humour—given our time and place and talents, what, if our faith and love were perfect, would we be glad to find it obvious to do?”

— W.H. Auden

Branching out

I keep learning from my children, and at the risk of sounding like a bragging mother today, I need to tell you about last night.

J.J. was in a play.

Now that may not sound very earth shattering to you, but let me explain. I used to be an actor – many moons ago now – but I could never get my children to even sing in the church choir – especially J.J. No amount of coercion or bribery would convince him to stand up in front of other people, and so I just let him choose for himself.

When he came home from school one day and declared, “I got a part in the play. I am the prince. I sing a solo and I have to wear tights,” I was pretty sure I would have a coronary right on the spot. This was no small step into performing. No, for a nonexhibitionist – this was a leap off a cliff.

I suspect it helped that two of his buddies from the baseball team were in it too – another fact I marveled over. What was happening to their well defined cleat wearing roles?

Last night during dinner, as we prepared to leave for the show, I asked J.J. if he was nervous, and he said exactly this:

“I think I’m always nervous when I try something new, but I chose to be the Prince, so I’m going to suck it up and go out there. It’ll probably be great once I get started.”

Later, after his thrilling performance (thrilling being his mother’s word) I thought about that response. My friend Dave, who I do not see nearly enough anymore, sent me an email the other day and he essentially talked about the price of being a true follower of Christ. He wrote, “I’ve never felt more excited about the gospel, but I feel I’m now amongst an incredibly small minority that feel this way. Most feel that they liked me better the way I was.”

It’s an old story, but the truth is that Christians want things to be easy and comfortable, and that desire seems to be in direct contradiction to the life of Jesus and His words. Being a follower of Christ demands venturing into uncomfortable, unfamiliar and brand new places – both literally and figuratively.

When God asks me to have a look at myself, I am often forced to face things about my personality and my bias’ that are disturbing to me. I would often like to think about cotton candy instead, but I recognize that if I dare to go there, God has something great for me in the end – growth, healing, better relationships.

My little baseball Prince reminded me of the truth:

I think I am always nervous when I try something new, but I chose to follow Christ, so I’m going to suck it up and go out there. It’ll probably be great once I get started.”

So, like J.J. and his baseball buddies above, I'm still branching out.

Learning to lose

I will admit that I have gone completely the opposite way of Winston Churchill. You may remember his famous quote:

“Show me a young Conservative and I'll show you someone with no heart. Show me an old Liberal and I'll show you someone with no brains.”

Labels bother me though. When I was younger, I was naïve and I bought into the whole Christian-conservative-family-values-war-hawk front. I was never right-wing, mind you, because I always had enough in me to question everything. However, I do not think I wear the word “liberal” well either. It, too, has many troubling aspects.

I want to be a Christian. How that forms my thinking and forces me to interact with the world is a result of Scripture and my relationship with Jesus.

For instance, in my Bible reading lately, I have been really wrestling with Mark 8:34-36. The same kind of Jesus’ ideology can be found in other gospels too, but let’s just look at what Mark recorded:

34Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?

Crazy challenging words, and I think we have come to think that Jesus was being figurative – but I suspect that He was being quite literal and thorough actually. Remember that many of His listeners died for their faith – as did He – and there is something very deep and profound here for us.

One of the arguments that I hear against promoting peace around the world is that it would expose us to danger at home. Our foremost concern seems to be protecting not only our lives, but our WAY of life here in America. We are motivated by fear, yes? And for some insane reason, we believe that WAR brings about PEACE.

Now apply the words of Jesus to our thinking. What if being vulnerable and promoting peace (i.e. less money on weapons, less emphasis on posturing, more on education, food, clean water) does in fact open us up to danger but is indeed the way of Jesus anyway? What if He is telling us that defending our way of life by any means necessary is an ultimate forfeit of our souls?

I do not have answers. I’m just thinking.

Hmmm...perhaps someone is messing with me?

Bearing gifts

If you have followed the blog for some time, you know that we have adopted 4 stray cats. I never had cats growing up, and I am learning what fascinating little animals they are.

They are constantly bringing me gifts. Usually, they bring mice indoors and leave them in my slippers. One even left a full size rabbit under Mia’s bed last Spring.

This week, however, they have been baffling me. Last Friday, I left a bag of Halloween candy downstairs in the family room – which is probably the farthest point from my bedroom, and each morning when I wake up there are little candies by my bed. None of the candies are open, but they keeping picking out the same kind.

Let me be sure you understand. There must be 20 different kinds of candy – Sweet Tarts, Reese’s, Laffy Taffy, Snickers – but they have been digging through the bag and selecting the mini Hershey bars – Krackel bars and Dark chocolates .

I find this so amusing, that I continue to leave the bag of candy unattended, just to see if it will keep happening. Is it the color? Is it the smell? Did Hershey pay them a fee for product placement?
I was sitting and laughing with my husband about it, watching our beloved Phillies, when Mia noticed that one of the cats was playing with something in my closet. She was rolling around with my shoes, shaking something back and forth. I got up to check, thinking it was chewing my belt, when I suddenly realized the belt was moving – all on its own.

The Visible Invisible

We had a bout with H1N1 here at the Melchior’s. That is not a new or unusual tale, because MANY households are experiencing this nasty flu.

When my kids are really sick, I am reminded of the fragility of life. I sometimes imagine the invisible war going on all around us – the microscopic germ that can wreak complete havoc on a huge body vs. the antibodies within our bodies that fight to ward off more attacks. It’s like a game of Risk.

Faith – believing in something you cannot see – can seem a little risky too. I wrestle with doubt, just like everyone else, and believing in the unseen isn’t a popular choice in our culture either. Oh no, we are far too advanced and self-sufficient for invisible things, aren’t we?

Here’s the thing, though. God is really not invisible. Unfortunately, however, some who claim to represent Him are wreaking havoc and they seem to be the ones who claim the spotlight – ensuring their visibility. They remind me of the flu.

There are faithful people of God quietly making His presence tangible all over the world – digging wells to find water, feeding hungry children in urban centers, rescuing women from human trafficking, honestly loving their neighbors – all clearly in the name of Jesus.

Just because God doesn’t clamor for your attention doesn’t mean He isn’t there. Have a look around today.