Janet's Blog

Did you ever notice that there are no stores in science fiction movies?  No malls, no supermarkets, no Wal-Mart.  For that matter, there are no libraries either, no gas stations or convenience stores, no churches.  It's kind of funny, though, that most science fiction has some version of a bar.  And, of course, nearly all science fiction features high-tech weapons, and various forms of personal transportation and intricate communication devices.  Most travel occurs at warp speed throughout the vast, unknown universe.  However, locals often walk, rarely venturing too far beyond their home turf. In the world of science fiction, life is broken down into the basics; survival skills are essential.  People and aliens harvest their own food or, at the other end of the spectrum, consume oddly fabricated nutrients prepared technologically at the touch of a button.  Medical care is non-invasive, instantaneous, and usually free--or, in some cases, it is non-existent.  After all, even the be

     When Levi first joined our family, at the age of four, he was obsessed with the story of the Gingerbread Man.  "Run, run, as fast as you can; you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!"  Levi was determined to learn how to draw one.  I spent hours with him, instructing him in the finer details of gingerbread men.  He practiced over and over, until he was finally able to draw a passable gingerbread man without any coaching from me.  For more than a year, he drew countless gingerbread characters, of endless varieties, sizes, and colors; painstakingly, he cut each one out.  He constructed gingerbread men out of playdough.  We baked and frosted gingerbread cookies.  For a while, our house was littered with faux gingerbread figures.  Now, four years later, I'll bet I could still find some if I looked carefully in the right places. Eventually, Levi moved on to bigger and better subjects--robots, ninjas, science fiction characters.  Drawing was not easy

E ach of us is born with a hole inside.  From the time we first enter this world, until the day we die, people try to fill that hole with many things;  knowledge, work, play, friendships, relationships, even drugs and alcohol.  It's the reason so many people have too much stuff.  It's why so many people seem driven in their quest for pleasure, and why others seek fulfillment in their jobs.  It's why so many seemingly sane adults flit from one unsatisfying relationship to another.  It's the reason for the rampant drug addiction and alcoholism in our world.  No matter how hard we try to fill the hole, nothing seems to fit just right.  That's why many people are left with a tremendous yearning for something more.  Only one Person can fill that God-sized hole inside each one of us.  "And you also are among those who are called to belong to Jesus Christ." Romans 1:6 This Thanksgiving, and as we get ready to head into the Christmas season,  I am so thank

I grew up in the Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod), where worship is often methodical and always liturgical.  In many Lutheran churches, a hymn is considered new if it is less than a hundred years old.  Pipe organs are considered to be the best instruments to accompany worship because, as I once read in a Lutheran publication, the pipe organ is the instrument that most closely imitates the human voice. When a pipe organ is unavailable, an electronic organ is used, although somewhat reluctantly, because electronic organs are the instruments that most closely resemble pipe organs!  It took me a long time to realize that most forms of worship are at least partly cultural in origin. When I think about it, I realize that Lutheran worship, in some churches, has changed very little in the past five hundred years because some German Lutherans don't really like change.  It has less to do with the Lutheran aspect than it has to do with that stubborn German way of doing things.  (I'm ent

Growing up in the Hotel Mary-Etta produced one unexpected side effect for me: I feel a bit claustrophobic in small spaces, especially those with low ceilings and small windows, or no windows at all..  Our apartment at the Mary-Etta was quite large, with a big living room and several tall windows.  My furniture-filled bedroom was not especially spacious, since I shared it with Laura; however, it had a large window that expanded the space, almost inviting the great outdoors into the room. The common areas of the hotel were all huge, with windows that stretched  from just a couple of feet off the floor clear to the lofty ceiling, high above.  When I think of the hotel, I can still see the morning summer sun streaming into the east windows of the Gold Room.  I think of the second floor laundry room, which was also a rather large, sun-lit room, cluttered with toys so my brother and sister and I had something to do while Mom was ironing sheets on the mangle.  I remember the huge kitchen at