Janet's Blog

As I trudged down to the basement the other day, to wash yet another load of laundry, I glanced at the boxes piled high, and the clutter scattered around, and the cobwebs in the windows, and I nearly shuddered with the thought--this is turning into my Grandma's basement! Not the farmhouse cellar.  That dank hole under the house could hardly be called a basement.  It was just a one-room cellar, lined with shelves of home-canned beans and peaches and jelly.  I suppose the potatoes and onions were kept down there, too.  I seem to remember a sloping, outside cellar door, which opened to reveal a steep, treacherous staircase, without any sort of hand rail, and a dirt floor.  One tiny, cobweb-covered window let in a small amount of light, just enough to find the right jar of vegetables for supper.  I only remember going down into that cellar once or twice, to seek shelter from threatening weather.  It wasn't a place where anyone wanted to linger. Grand...

I remember one church service, when I was a girl, when the congregation was singing "Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus," sitting down!   I remember desperately wanting to stand up, hoping against hope that Pastor Bangert would notice his oversight, and stand up.  Then, the congregation would surely follow his lead, and jump to their feet. It didn't happen. Some songs demand that we stand.  However, pastors and worship leaders sometimes become preoccupied with their thoughts, or they become so wrapped up in the act of worship that they forget that they have neglected to instruct the rest of the worshipers to stand with them.  So, the next time you find yourself in a similar situation, when you and the entire congregation are sitting for a song that is best sung standing, I am giving you permission to stand. I know, I know, I don't really have any authority about this.  But, you do.  Just think what might happen if you decided to stand up and keep singing fe...

Why is it that everyone is so anxious to put up the Christmas decorations, but no one wants to help take them down?  Getting ready for the magical Christmas season can be so exciting, especially for little ones.  Putting things away signals the end of the magic and the beginning of a long, cold winter.  It's no wonder no one wants to help. Our Christmas tree is always overloaded with ornaments of every shape and color.  I took the Christmas ornaments off of our tree by myself on New Year's Day.  As I took down each unique ornament, I thought about its origin, where we got it, and who made it or gave it to us. The first ornaments Bill and I ever received were the four hand-painted ceramic ones and three traditional balls that someone gave us as wedding gifts forty years ago. They first hung on the little tree in our apartment just three days after our wedding.  That year, we also started a rather short-lived tradition of buying one ornament a yea...

I have been blessed to have six aunts; my dad's three sisters, his two brothers' wives, and my mom's only sister, Aunt Ellen.  All have been an important part of my entire life, to some degree or another. Aunt Ellen is gone now, after an extended illness and a brief stint in a much-hated nursing home.  Since she never married, she was always present for every holiday and family celebration.  For that reason, I may have known her a little better than some of my other aunts. Aunt Ellen was my godmother when I was baptized at the age of three months. When I was three or four, Ellen painted my fingernails pink.  When I was a little older, she often transported Dan and Laura and me from Grandma's and Grandpa's house in Bloomfield, back to Lincoln, where Mom and Dad picked us up and took us the rest of the way home to Fairbury.  She always attended our Christmas programs.  She played cards and Scrabble with us, bought pearls for Laura and me, and ga...

Forty years ago, Mom was graduating from Concordia Teachers College with a degree in Elementary Education. Bill was graduating from Milford with an associate's degree in Electronic Engineering. And, we were all in the midst of last minute preparations for a wedding. Christmas festivities became somewhat incidental that year. Finals were our first priorities, then wedding activities kicked into high gear. Grandma Vawser and Aunt Marilyn pitched in to sew Laura's candlelighter's dress that cloudy afternoon.  Mom just hadn't had time until then.  Bill and I ignored the custom that the bride and groom should not see each other on the day of the wedding until the bride walked down the aisle.  We ran a few errands together throughout the day, and greeted out of town guests as they arrived at the house. Bill and I didn't stop to think that our future anniversary celebrations would forever be overshadowed by Christmas.  We were thrilled that the church was beautifu...

When I think of past Thanksgivings, I remember the Hotel Mary-Etta, where various permanent residents joined our family and extended family in our apartment living room, dressed in their best, sometimes straining to use appropriate table manners, always quiet and reserved at the thought of sharing a real Thanksgiving dinner with a real family.  I think of the wild turkey, and sometimes pheasant or duck, as well, that Dad had shot, and the stuffing Mom always made but never ate, the old-fashioned ham that Aunt Ellen always brought along, sweet potatoes with melted marshmallows on the top, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cranberry sauce, slid straight out of the can onto a plate for us to slice and enjoy.  We always finished the meal with homemade pumpkin pie and real whipped cream. Some years, we made the four hour trip to Bloomfield to share a Thanksgiving meal with Grandpa and Grandma Wegner.  The meal was virtually the same, except that Grandma usually made her cran...

It was a small worship team tonight, only five of us; one pianist, one on synth, a guitarist, me on bass, and a drummer.  Only two of us are singing this week, as we prepare to lead the congregation in Sunday morning worship.  Tonight, our ages ranged from early twenties to late seventies, a Bible college student and a youth pastor, a piano teacher, a preschool teacher, and a retired nurse. Our entire worship team probably consists of more than twenty talented musicians and technicians, including bus drivers and teachers, farmers and ranchers, students, construction workers, nurses, and self-proclaimed computer geeks. The faces may change a bit from one week to the next, but the focus remains the same.  Every time we come together, we implore God to help us focus on him, and to make us fade into the background on Sunday mornings, so the congregation can fix their eyes on Him, as well. I think I can safely say that we have become a family.  Not everyone was there ...