Update
My father's hospice company took him off their purview last week. I guess that after 2-1/2 years of dying, they decided his departure is not imminent. In my opinion, when one's pulse is in the 30s and sleep periods last more than 24 hours, hospice is needed. But they didn't put me in charge.
My sister said today that he does seem to have rebounded a little. She sang the Doxology with him, and he joined her for the notes even though he couldn't get out the actual words. The next day, she visited again and tried to sing the same song. Dad stopped her and said, "We're singing THAT song again?"
That means he remembered singing it the day before!
My Father's Hands, Part 4
Once a year, our family could visit my Dad's laboratory at Shell Chemical Company. In my younger years, the lab was nestled within a huge oil refinery. Getting to it involved walking under a multitude of towering, steaming pipes, curved in all directions, emitting the strong sulphur smell that my father could no longer detect after years of its assault on his senses.
At the time I entered high school, Shell built a new laboratory that consolidated their scientists from around the U.S. This facility was solely designed for research and not connected to any industrial uses. On our yearly visit, we would stride down the corporate hallways until reaching a nondescript door that led to Dad's lab, a world of curiosity. One corner contained a hooded work area, completely enclosed in a box, with fantastic gloves that were GREAT for playing. (Before we arrived, Dad had cleared out all the dangerous chemicals that were ordinarily inside.) Here's an image of such a box:
The other equipment that piqued my interest were the miniature washing machines on the lab counters. My father spent half his career at Shell studying detergents to make them more effective in cold water. Despite marketing efforts to the contrary, clothes get much cleaner in hot water because the chemical reactions of the detergent are stronger at higher temperatures. Finding a good cold-water detergent would have an immense positive effect on the environment and on costs because of lower energy use to heat the water. My father tested his new detergent formulations in tiny washing machines about nine inches tall, with a drum just big enough for a small swatch of cloth.
Part of Dad's research was to standardize the "dirt" on the cloth swatches, to control the variables so that he could measure exactly how a new detergent formula would effect the cleaning. When he wrote scientific papers or presented his findings at conferences, his graphs and charts would measure the DMO (dirt) before and after washing. It all looked so official. But when I asked him what DMO meant, he smiled and told me, "You know when I work on our car in the garage?" Of course, I knew--I would watch him toil over the car motor, his greasy hands turning wrenches and making repars. "DMO stands for Dirty Motor Oil, which comes from our car."
So, the stuff draining into a bucket from our Chevrolet, later appeared on a slide at a conference. Too funny!
My Father's Hands, Part 3
My Dad served as a church council member for most of his life. In this capacity, he was regularly assigned to assist the pastor by serving communion wine during worship services. As my father moved from person to person at the communion rail, he undertook his task so reverently that his hands would slightly tremble as he offered the chalice to each worshiper. The look on Dad's face during these times was one of humility at the immense privilege of helping to serve the sacrament. I learned so much about faith from him by just watching.
Care
Let the Children Come to me
LUKE 18:16
Valentine's Day
Jonathan's plans for Valentine's Day included making sangria last night. We had just spent an hour in our van delivering children. On a cold night (temperature in the mid-teens), with a broken car heater, we were all feeling pretty chilled upon arriving at home.
So, Jonathan and I decided to convert the sangria to mulled wine. He sliced up the apples and blood oranges into the sangria and heated it on the stove. The aroma filled the house, and the wine's warmth on a cold night was very satisfying.
David asked about our special drink, which Jonathan described to him. David responded, "That's sounds pretty awful. Why would you want to drink mold wine with blood oranges?"
My Father's Hands, Part 2
I have always loved to peruse my parents' wedding photos. Before I was born, Mom arranged the full-page, black-and-white pictures in a beautiful white album. I know all of the family members, but even as a child I noticed how young they seemed. One grandfather is dressed in his pastoral robes, having conducted the ceremony, while the other grandfather looks very handsome in his formal suit. Our family was represented by all ages, from my great grandparents down to my older cousin, very young in the wedding, who served as flower girl. And my mother and father look so beautiful and happy on this important occasion.
One striking photo is a close-up of a Bible on a table, with my parents' right hands resting on the book. Such familiar images--their hands--but this time at the start of their marriage, before my siblings and I were born.
Ash Wednesday
A Facebook post from a mother in our church:
I came home from Ash Wednesday service tonight, and Anna says, "Mommy's a pirate!"
One day I'll explain what the ashes really mean.
My Great Niece
How can a drooling baby be so darn cute?
The Anti-Celebration
Jonathan and I lived in Hong Kong many years ago, and the most important celebration there is Chinese New Year. Tonight is the eve of this year's big event, so Jonathan and I planned to drive the kids to Chinatown in Chicago for a special snack: fruit smoothies filled with tapioca balls. If you'd like to take a look, check out the website for Joy Yee Noodle Restaurant, which we visit once a year:
http://joyyee.com/drink/
Our children do not handle unusual events very well, and today was no exception. After getting into the car and facing our sixth or seventh discipline problem, Jonathan and I gave up and turned the car back toward home. I made a pot of coffee, and he pulled out some chocolate fudge brownies for the two of us.
I consoled myself that we were eating the "anti-Chinese food." When we lived in Hong Kong, we looked for months for some really chocolate desserts, and with great difficulty finally found one at an expatriate Swiss restaurant. So celebrating Chinese Year today with chocolate fudge seemed appropriate under the circumstances.
Chicago's Reputation
Chicago is known world-wide for Al Capone and the Mafia. And lately, the city has been getting a lot of press for its violence. Evidence of it came close to home yesterday:
Peter attends school at a prominent church in our area, which is in the near-western suburbs. Yesterday, the church held a large funeral service for the 31-year-old son of a member. I was told that the young man had worked as a bouncer, and had testified in court about something related to his job. Someone put out a hit for him, and he was shot and killed in a neighborhood south of ours. In the past, our own family had actually looked into moving into that village.
Due to security concerns, the funeral service at the church was heavily guarded by police. I happened to drive by at the time the funeral ended and as the auto procession made its way to the cemetery. Police cars blocked traffic at about ten intersections, including the exit from Interstate 290. Fortunately, the entire event seemed to have proceeded peacefully.
Please keep the family and friends of this young man in your prayers.
Adorable!
Watch some great video of a baby polar bear:
https://www.facebook.com/abc7chicago/videos/10154039040961162/?fref=nf
It's good therapy!
The Scouts' Ski Trip
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Jonathan to the scoutmaster:
Am I right that Peter had his 2nd class Board of Review some weeks ago, and that this Board of Review is for First Class?
Scoutmaster response: |
He will be just fine..
FYI- had a great time skiing with him and David when I could catch them.
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Quote from "The Local," a Swedish news site in English
Take me to church
Photo: Anders Alm/Visit Luleå
These days, Swedes may be a mostly secular people, but they also have a passion for preserving their heritage. Take Gammelstad, for example. The church town is celebrating 20 years as a UNESCO World Heritage site, and with its 424 wooden houses and 15th-century stone church, it makes for a truly unique historical experience.
