Children's Book Review: Criss Cross

Set in the 1960s, Criss Cross often mentions "transcendental" type moments of revelation. One of these was in the second chapter, and it made me skeptical that the book would provide any real insight into young minds. Boy was I wrong.

Lynn Rae Perkins is a mastermind at expressing the thoughts--random or organized, specific or theoretical--of young teenagers that are discovering their own personality and friends. Using a variety of forms from prose to haiku, to song lyrics and split screen writing, Perkins' use of words is an illustration itself to the complexity of young minds seeking to find their way through life. Thinking back to my own early teen years (which weren't so long ago) I recognize myself and my own thoughts in this book...not just in one character, but in all of them!

Perkins introduces a fun cast of ordinary teens and follows them through a series of developing events. So flawlessly does she track the mental gyrations of her characters, the reader moves with them through the story, feeling the subtle changes of growing personality, but not realizing it until the characters themselves make the discovery.

There are great themes of friendship, humility, and compassion through it all, along with a classic series of awkward teenage moments and everyday vignettes, humorous because of their accurate detail. Altogether, it makes for an upbeat book, charming in its realism and normalcy. (Why is realism so often not charming?) It reminds us of what we should already know: *most* teens in their coming of age years are (we all hope) in the process of becoming good adults, who enjoy life and take interest in and care for those around them. Though the subject matter is taken on by thousands of authors every year, Perkins approaches her story with a unique style and insight. If you're looking for a quiet, humorous adventure through the minds of several growing teenage friends, have this one close at hand!

Children's Book Review: Shiloh (spoiler alert)

Phyllis Reynolds Naylor's book, Shiloh, centers around a boy who discovers a shy and mistreated beagle and his quest to make the dog his own. The book is full of precious moments of love between boy and dog that are sharply contrasted with the tensions in the book, of which there are several. There's the tension between the boy and his parents, who strictly prohibit pets on the reasonable grounds that they cannot afford to feed them or take them to the vet. All their extra funds go to caring for the boy's grandmother. The dog's owner, Judd, causes tension also because he's dishonest, and he's cruel to his dogs. And finally, there's a boatload of tension between the boy and everyone else because he decides to hide the dog and tells innumerable lies to cover it up.

These are excellent themes and questions for children to consider: What is right and wrong? Does it always line up with what the law says? What are the consequences of lying? Does loving something grant you some kind of ownership over it? And what happens when your love for one thing might hurt something else you love?

While Shiloh gives us considerable food for thought on the first four questions and resolves them in the end, the last question remains asked, but unanswered. For the boy and his family end up with the dog, but the family's situation has not changed. The reader is left to wonder, will their grandmother not get all the care she needs? Will the family get enough food? Will they really be able to to take care of the dog? (As far as we know, the book ends with the boy still owing his father money for a doctor's visit when Shiloh was attacked by another dog.)

The story is well told and the characters are painted brilliantly, which earned the book a Newbery Medal in 1992. But with one of the main tensions in the book remaining unresolved in the end, some readers are bound to walk away less than satisfied. We want to be thrilled for the boy, but I, at least, put the book down hoping (rather than being reassured) that the right decision was made and they'd all "live happily ever after." This feeling of unease in the end was compounded by the fact that the boy witnessed his neighbor Judd shoot a dear out of season, and used this information to blackmail Judd into selling him the dog. Even in the boy's mind, he knew he was doing something dishonest that would, in the long run, hurt the dear population in the area. But he was willing to do anything to keep Shiloh... once again asking the question, "What happens when your love for one thing hurts something else?"

Now I like happy endings, but I can be thoroughly satisfied even with a sad ending, as long as the problem that has propelled the book along is resolved in the end. What bothers me here is that a critical tension throughout the story--one that begs for resolution before the end of the story--remains untouched. Not even in the context of dialogue does the boy talk with his parents about their finances or do the parents reassure the boy that they would "make it work." For me then, the book is good and thought provoking, but I wouldn't recommend it for your "must read" children's book list.

An Ebenezer

Five years ago, I woke up in my bed in Alaska, extremely grumpy. The time was drawing near to when I would leave home to go to college--the most enormous change of my life as of then. I kept thinking about my dearest friends and how much I would miss them. I pounded some blues on my piano, then roared into a jaunty tango. As I hit the last cord with a flare, 5 of my best friends burst into the room, yelling "surprise!" (And boy, was I surprised!) They had come to kidnap me for a whole day of fun and fellowship together.

My life changed that day. While the whole thing is very memorable and special to me, the most important thing is that there was a thunderstorm at the end of the day. It's the only thunderstorm that I ever remember happening in Alaska. Usually, if it's going to rain a lot, it just rains gradually for a week! But God gave me a thunderstorm and afterward, a full rainbow. And not just a rainbow, but a double rainbow. Remember what a rainbow is? It's a promise, and a sign in itself of God's faithfulness to his promises. That day, I had complete conviction that God was speaking to me and reminding me in a both gentle and powerful way that He is faithful to keep me no matter what I do or where I go.

Through my first year of college, I memorized the date only on a whim, remembering that it was my favorite day of the last year. But as time went on, I kept wondering what would be happening on July 27 the next year. My freshman year, I changed a lot, partly from college, but also from going on tour as a pianist with the Continental Singers. My life was likely to be much different than I was expecting... and I was beginning to stop expecting (or hoping) for something specific and simply be excited about the surprises God brings along, knowing that everything He gives is awesome and full of purpose and meaning. That day was one of the first days we were having a concert outside. In fact, we were in a campground  in the woods in Germany. But we didn't end up having a concert. The clouds rolled in, and a huge thunderstorm poured down all around us. Fortunately, we were able to get all the equipment into a gazebo area so it wouldn't be damaged. While we waited, listening to the rain, we sang praise songs together and talked--beautiful, relaxing fellowship in the woods....just like the year before! And when the clouds broke (I can still hardly believe it), there was a double rainbow stretching full across the sky! I was so overwhelmed by God's generosity and reassurances, that July 27th has become for me a day of remembering God's faithfulness (whether or not there's a rainbow.)

For example, a couple years ago, it seemed that nothing very special happened on July 27th. My mother and I went to Anchorage together and bought a new microwave. But you see, since the day of July 27 is set aside in my mind as being a day to celebrate God's faithfulness, what could I do but praise God that he gives us so much time and money to be able to afford such wonderful things as microwaves, which are clearly a blessing above and beyond what we need! And now, when I go to visit my parents, I see that new microwave and think of how good God is to us!

Today, I have a whole year of outrageous blessing to look back on and simply gawk at how ridiculously good God is to me. And I had an amazing start to my day around 4:30AM... beginning the day (rather unusually) by being so glad that God gave me as much sleep as he did! Later today I'm going to go pick blackberries... (Blackberries, by the way, will forever make me think of my beautiful and dear friend Andrea, who loves berries and has been generous enough to let me share in her delight whenever we're together. How faithful God is to give us wonderful Christian friends to encourage us through sharing things we love!) And not only do I get to have purple fingers and tongue, but I get to enjoy them with another lovely friend, who will be (come another July 27th) as a sister-in-law to me. How much fun we shall have in celebrating God's goodness to us in giving us godly husbands that love and care for us!

I could list so many things that God has been faithful to provide, but the biggest one that I can think of is how he has consistently provided spiritual encouragement in all different (and often unexpected) quarters. I suppose it's often unexpected because I am now living in Washington DC, and feeling rather out of my element, like a lobster in a pot of boiling water. (considering how hot it is here!) And God has brought dear friends from all corners of the continent to our apartment that say they're "just passing through." But just between you and me, I secretly think that they're really there just to visit me--to encourage me by how faithful God is to give me fellowship with good friends, one way or another. But that's just one of many examples of how God constantly surprises me with wonderful things that I delight in. And all these things help remind me that joy in the Lord is to be found anywhere I look for it...whether in little things like blackberries or big things like a spouse and an air conditioner.

Let me know how God has shown his faithfulness to you, either today, or sometime in the last year!

Under the Surface of The Music Man

There is hardly a more dangerous place to turn off our brains than in front of a television. This is not because we can freely and mindlessly accept attitudes and moral judgments in other areas of life, but rather, we must be more careful in front of a television because it is exactly there that we are inclined to stop thinking. The danger is that all the writers, directors, and producers of everything that goes on television know that the vast majority of America's population sits in front of the tube so they can be entertained without having to think. And they say to themselves (rightly so) that this is the media to use when they want to get a message to the world and change people's minds. Even commercials can be an attack against the principles many people hold dear. They say: "You may not even know you want this, but you need it. You ought to have it. And what's more, you should enjoy it by buying it with someone else's money if you possibly can. Everyone will admire you if you do."

Movies and TV shows are much more subtle. It is so easy to mindlessly enjoy them; to vicariously live and have adventures through the characters on screen. We imagine what it would be like if we were doing and saying the same things with the same consequences. And in this way, modern movies can edge their way into our minds and skew our perception of good and evil, modesty, true love, responsibility, faith, and finances. Old and new movies alike can present dubious images of reality that we are slow to recognize. However, I also think that many movies, new and old, have excellent morals and snapshots of truth that we can learn from should we choose to recognize and think about them.

For example: I recently watched the Music Man, an excellent musical from 1961. While there are many interesting comments throughout the movie on the American Midwest and small town social life, we find more worldview statements in how we see Prof. Harold Hill interact with the town. He is an unabashed con-man, come to sell boys bands and get out before they realize they've been swindled. He is undeniably good at what he does, but the movie paints his intentions as morally reprehensible and dangerous to his well-being. I can't imagine anyone watching the movie wishing that they were in his position. There is also an interesting commentary on mercy and love. For Marian (the librarian) discovered early on that Prof. Hill was a cheat, but decided to keep the information to herself because his influence had made her little brother happy after two years of ashamed lisping silence since their father had died. This was a judgment call on her part, and I'm inclined to think that it was the wrong one--she should have exposed him. But again, with such hardness do we often meet a merciful response to evil...unless it's toward ourselves. In the end, he is redeemed. The band comes and plays, albeit terribly, and the town is satisfied. (I'm sure I don't know why.) At first sight, it might seem that Prof. Hill is redeemed through his own works because many other groups of people in the town realized that he had done many good things for them. But this is not the case. It was ultimately the playing of the band and his care for Marian that made him stay that redeemed him. But he did nothing to help that boy band play and he certainly did nothing to earn Marian's trust and admiration. So, while there is some measure of open disrespect to authority (the comical Mayor Shin) and while one might doubt the wisdom of Marian's decision to trust the professor, we can certainly walk away from the film with the reminder that mercy is always unreasonable and redemption comes through mercy.

If you haven't seen it, watch it! And tell me what worldview statements you see in other areas of the movie.

In Honor of a Birthday

For many years, on this very day
I've celebrated a life I love.
Her heart is merry; it likes to play
And will never give you the shove!
She works quite hard at home and away
Cooking and cleaning and stopping to pray.

She gives God the praise for all her good works
Knowing His grace is sufficient each night.
(She's an early bird--it's one of her quirks
When nighttime comes her strength is more slight.)
But she's kind and generous with all of her time
"People are most important" is  favorite line.

She's worked in my life, I know that for sure
And will be a dear friend 'til Christ comes again.
She taught me to read, knit, cook, and what's more,
Delight in God's world from shore to shore
And meet friends and family with an open door
I know those who know her will say with a grin,
"This woman's your mother!" And I say, "Amen!"


I love you Mama! Thanks for being such a great mother, teacher, and friend. Come see us again soon!

Operation Chili

The day was sunny and bright. The kitchen was clean. Friends were taking me to the store. Everything was in place, and there was nothing that made me suspect that my dinner plans would turn into a full fledged battle between me and... you guessed it, a pot of soup. "A pot of soup?" you say incredulously. Yes indeed. Be not mistaken. A pot of soup is a thing nearly in surmountable. It is a thing of mystery, danger, and excitement. You never know exactly what is at the bottom of it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This adventure did not start with my making a pot of chili... it started with a phone call.

"Hello?"
"Oh hi Desiree'! Sorry I missed your call."
"You're going to be here in about half an hour... and you have directions to the store? Of course. No problem. Just call me when you're getting close and I'll come out and meet you."
"Yep! Bye."

BAM! I thought to myself. I scored big time. Instead of a 2 hour trip to the store to get 2 or 3 bags of groceries and breaking my arms (and sometimes bags) on the walk back; I now acquired for myself one de-lux ride to the store equipped with special extra space for my very own bags, plenty of leg room, and a radio channel that features a couple men that read straight through the Bible. (Unfortunately, they happened to be going through one of the lengthy Old Testament lineages.)

3o minutes later I checked my watch, shrugged my shoulders, and played "Hey Jude" on the piano. 5 minutes after that, I went outside to cut a few of the wildflowers growing by the side of our building. The blue stars add a nice touch of life to one of our bookcases. 5 minutes after that, I twiddled my thumbs.... and right when I was about to be impatient, Desiree' called again and said they were almost here. (I repeated to myself, BAM!)

I don't know what punk company they got their directions from, but I do know one thing. All the roads that don't lead to Rome lead to downtown DC. You might think that's not so bad. After all, it's April first, people are happy about the warm sun and families are picnicking gaily in the parks and everyone is ready to deck the White House with boughs of cherry blossoms. Well actually, because of the Cherry Blossom festival, every road through downtown DC was packed with cars AND pedestrians, neither of which mind they're own traffic lights. I've never hear people curse or honk so much. They should have turned to 107.5 and edified their soul by learning that Jabesh the son of Zoar the son of.....

Oh no! I've heard stories about this. The day and dinner is ruined by the meal resisting consumption. It maneuvers and strikes back at its maker. Well then. I will NOT give in! The chili shall be MINE (and Paul's) and we will consume it before the parking garages start charging $15/hr for late fees. 

My mind was made up. I knew in my heart of hearts that even before we got to the store, my dinner (mostly still on the shelves of the store) was resisting my coming. Well, we made it to the highway which turned out to be the wrong one. Oh well. A mere 15 minutes later, we were speeding our way to Alexandria... to Shoppers... to my dinner.

I was concentrating so fully on the cans of beans and tomatoes that I nearly missed getting a shopping cart. But I didn't fall for that sneaky trick. I turned around, grabbed a cart and headed for the front lines... err, aisles. Without much protest, the beans and tomatoes and other chili ingredients resigned themselves to their fate in my cart, and I managed to go through the store gathering groceries that we'd need for most of the rest of the month. (At a price cheaper than any store within walking distance. BAM!) I got so much food that it didn't matter at all how long I had to wait for my friends to be done shopping. I knew that I wouldn't have been able to buy so much in more than 5 trips walking to the store.

The way back was relatively uneventful, though I had to keep a sharp watch out for the turns and exits to get to our apartment. But I made it back and began to unpack and to start the chili. Oh no! It's happening again. The onions erased themselves from my memory. *sigh* There's not one left! What is chili without onions? Ha. This dinner thinks it has me licked... well I'm not! Chili without onions is actually what I planned all along! Bua-ha-ha-ha-ha....

I opened cans and thew things in the pot right and left feeling like a chef competing on the Food Network. I sauteed the ground beef, drained it and tossed it in. Add some chili powder, cumin, and BBQ sauce... and left it to boil for a little bit while I washed some dishes. (The dish soap had tipped over and made a mess on the counter while I was gone.) It was all coming together nicely. But this was no ordinary, calmly submissive pot of soup, no sir. It wasn't going down without a last ditch effort at wounding my chef's pride. I turned around and the pot was boiling and smelling delectable and inviting. But no... it was boiling a little too vigorously. It was a little too excited about how hot it was getting. I removed it from the stove and started stirring it, groaning inwardly as I felt a few things stuck to the bottom. And then, without warning,. a huge bubble of chili burst all over my left wrist, scalding it and making me cry aloud. I'm so glad they don't tar and feather people anymore, I thought as I held my wrist under some cold water from the faucet and turned off the stove with the other hand. The wall was splatter with chili from the Blissfield picture to the other side of the window. Dear me.

Yes sir, my dinner tried hard to escape me this time, but I had the last word. The pot of chili sat on the stove now, calmly cooling off, and I lifted a spoon into it for a taste. And I smiled a smile of satisfaction that only comes after a hard victory won.


(And for concerned readers, my burned wrist is recovering well underneath a soothing ice pack, balanced just so that I can type at the same time.... oh wait! The back just started leaking... and there's water going everywhere! Uhm....excuse me for just a moment.)

Chocolate... and more chocolate!

Looks good, doesn't it? Here's what really happened.

The dawn broke. What it broke, I don't know, but if I had been awake at the time, I certainly would have taken it as a warning. Today was destined to be a clumsy day, and everything--even nature--was contributing. Today was the day that I would make Triple Chocolate Biscotti, and the world would be forever changed... or at least the color of my shorts would be.

I followed the instructions, honest! Well... at least I tried more than I usually do, but I had to give up because it was getting too messy. I set my computer on the counter so I could look at the recipe as I went along. I combined some of the liquids and then got out some eggs. I already used my hand mixer, and thought I'd just stick the immersion-blender whisk in the eggs to quickly mix them up. But unfortunately, it only had one setting: Very Very High. And the whisk attachment is just so aerodynamically shaped as to make everything around it fly into the air while it stays firmly in place. It was a fateful moment...(nanosecond, probably). I pressed the button, and instantly, there was egg yolk in my hair, on the counter, oozing over my toes, dripping down the counter, sprawling on my computer keyboard... just about anywhere but in the bowl where they once so peacefully resided. One almost had to laugh it was so comical. However, I was the only one present, and was a little too busy trying to cleanup without spreading the chaos further to stop for a hearty chuckle. I presently ordered my small kitchen to rights and continued with the cooking. It seemed to go well enough for the rest of the  process. Of course, chocolate is always dangerous and one never knows until hours later what single-minded purpose it has been pursing against your own health and sanity.

Blissfully ignorant of the mess I was in (literally) I arranged the plate you see above and prepared myself to enjoy one of the (lesser) fruits of my labors. (My particular cookie was falling apart and not worthy of being in the picture.) I picked it up and tilted my milk, ambitious to cover as much chocolate as possible with its creamy goodness. Ah but friends, Caesar was ambitious. I hadn't taken a single bite of my chocolate creation before I had spilled milk all over our tablecloth, one of our chairs, myself, and the floor. Sighing, I set about cleaning up my second mess.

And then, 2 hours after taking the picture, I looked (for the first time, apparently) down at myself and saw a little bit of chocolate on the bottom corner of my shorts pocket. How odd. I certainly didn't use my pockets while cooking! I flaked it off, and then noticed some more farther up... and more.... and more!!! There was chocolate caked all over the inside of my pocket! Maybe Julius Caesar wasn't ambitious. Maybe he just was clumsy and got in the way. Maybe the circumstances overwhelmed him and became too much for him to handle without making a mess of it. (But Brutus says he was ambitious. And Brutus is an honorable man.)

He seemed to do well ruling while he was alive (filling the general coffers and all that). And the biscotti itself turned out well and delicious. And yet, though the people may mourn and wail, this day buries my noble ambition to cook with three chocolates at one time.