Summer Travel to Maine

As usual all good blog posts pop into my head and right out extremely quickly if I don't get them onto paper.  In this case, that's what happened so this post will be "Just the facts ma'am, just the facts." 

In the past 4 days we have traveled hundreds of miles, spent a small fortune on diesel gasoline,  gone through multiple states, cleaned out a grocery store, ate lunch in the car 3 days straight, walked along the Erie Canal, hiked in the Adirondacks, explored an abandoned garnet mine,    

crossed Lake Champlain on a ferry, nestled ourselves in a cabin (ok, a camp) in Maine, jumped in the lake a hundred times (only the boys have made it to that number), canoed, kayaked, visited an 1850 era church, hung out with our friends, and whined a little (mostly children), ached a little (mostly the newbie waterskiiers), and laughed so hard that now we look at each other and start giggling.  And lastly, but not the least of which, the bird whisperer, and if you know who the duck whisperer is, you're ahead of the game, this bird whisperer helps a frightened wren who is trying to get in our screened window tonight, seems she likes the light but the bird whisperer easily catches, holds, and calms her before she hurts herself and lets her go in safety.  Maine has that effect on you I guess with it's soothing temperatures (not hot Charleston), it's glistening lake, beautiful mountains, loons calling to you in the early evening or morning, and the breeze.  I admit, there are a few bugs, mostly mosquitoes which should qualify as the state bird even though they are insects, but nothing a can of spray can't hold at bay. 

 

As busy and GO GO GO as our life has been, it seems that relaxing a little has been good for all of us!

 

Dress Like A Cow Night

Written by Sarah Kelly Rowe, age 12

Yesterday was free food at Chick Fil'A,if you dressed like a cow.

 We took this sign seriously, hey a little work equals FREE supper!

 So we begin.

 Everyone had a lot of fun painting old T- shirts for our cow costumes and

 the little ones loved making paper noses and ears, for us to wear.

 Daddy with his hilarious reputation dressed as the farmer with a milk pail and a empty gallon jug of milk  tied to his belt loop. 

 Here we are ~ cows and all.

 While we are walking in, someone snaps a photo with their phone. Now that we are dressed up people really stare at us.  And of course Daddy is calling out:   "Time to get the milk" while jiggling his milking pail.

Sweet baby girl is cow-cute in her own small costume.

 After we order, Sarah Kelly and Abby, our neighbor who lives down the street, get straws, napkins and lots of ketchup for everyone  

 Harris puts on a excited cow pose.

 This is how much it cost us for dinner:  FREE!  Unbelievable what it would have cost us!

Katharine enjoys the yummy chicken.

 After all the cow bellies are full we head back to our own neighborhood, looking forward to next year when we will do it again.

Boy Scouts of America and my own BSA

Note:  This blog post was written on June 4, 2013, the night of Troop 260's meeting and the night of Andrew and Harris's Cub Scout Recognition.

"I disagree with the Boys Scouts' decision but....."

Really?  I am listening but I am having trouble my friend, hearing you, I am listening to your compromising words, your acceptance and resignation amid your sighs and resolutions to duty...this is the way it has to be.  You don't like it but you don't see any option, any choice but to go along with the change and make the best of it.  You will somewhat vocalize your displeasure but that's all it is, displeasure. 

This my friend is much bigger than our comfort or our displeasure.

Really?  And I mean Really?  I just listened to you earlier tonight, thought hard long thoughts, tried to understand where you where coming from and all I could say to your words of:  "let's change this policy, let's show these people a better way, a different life, different morals, let's change them, let's minister.....and I am thinking, yes, let's.  Let's send our 5 year olds to the heart of Africa,

to the inner cities and small towns of this nation and tell them to minister and change a hurting godless culture.  Let's tell them to be in it but not of it.  Don't let it influence you, don't let it change you, don't accept it, don't participate, but get them all to change.  You stay the same way you are now and don't change.  How about our 8 year olds?  Our 11 year olds?

And all I can squeak out while someone is waiting for me to toss the ball of conversation back is:  "Not at the expense of my child." 

Later, I am thinking about this change.  Where does all this really take us?  What about the all the other children out there?   This is not okay at the expense of my sons, but what of other's sons?  

Is this okay at their expense?  Really?  Change is not always what it's cracked up to be.

Displeasure, a loss of comfort?  Sure, but so much more than that.  This is conviction, this is truth, this is about moral absolutes.  This, not your shocked displeasure, is what stills people, what makes them look at you like you've lost your mind.  This commitment, sense of integrity, this is where the "rubber meets the road."  Do you stand for something?  

For anything?  Do you care, or do you really really care?  

Can we all just commiserate, shake our heads and say what the old-timers used to say while they leaned back in chairs, chewing their tobacco, stained garden shirts and overalls on, worn boots, and even more worn faces, "what is this world coming to?"  Or can we all decide that what is truth is truth and that this is not about us, not about our reaction, that the time to change has come and gone, and now we are faced with a moral dilemma and we are not responding but the response has been taken away.  

We are not leaving anyone, they have left us.

If you thought this was only about slight discomfort, maybe some embarrassment, but you haven't all out wrung your hands and your heart is squeezed dry, seemingly lacking oxygen over this, then absolute morality and truth are not overflowing out of the heart being wrenched.   This decision, this mandate, this resolution is much bigger than just words.  It's the culture, it's the money, it's what makes the world go 'round, it's everything, but...but... what the Bible says.  

James Dobson of Focus on the Family used to say that the culture is like a raging river and a lot of us think we can resist the culture so we take our stand and that is what we do, we stand in the river, unmoving, refusing to go along with the raging waters of culture change, and it's not good enough.  Standing still will drag you along with the current.  But moving upstream, moving against the tide is what is tougher, that's where we can all be divided.  To not become part of the raging culture, one must continually plow against the raging waters; it's no longer enough to be still in it.  

Oh but we tell ourselves it's good enough.  We gnash our teeth, shake our heads, and say, "how could they; really?  What were they thinking?  Why are they messing with such a good organization? Why mess with these young boys and men?   How unfortunate this all is.  And we sigh.  And we sigh some more when we go home and push. this. to. the. back. of our brains in the compartment of disappointing circumstances of our lives.  But we will not look bad because of it or really admit what is going on here, no one wants to get stared at or talked about.

This is it my friend.  You take your stand one way or the other.  You can fuss and whine and in the end, try to make it all work out or you can recognize that this isn't about us anymore.  No one is pulling away, no one is leaving the Scouts, no church is disbanding their charters.  Just because we personally did not have a vote doesn't mean that now we are voting.  This decision isn't ours, it was made by others, by those who are following the almighty dollar and the culture, following the drummer of tolerance and acceptance of weakened morality and abominations of our Creator. 

In case you don't yet understand it, here again is the heart of the matter:

We are not leaving Scouts, Scouts has left us.  

Scouts has pulled away from the heart of morality, Scouting has broken with absolute truth and followed the sweet sinister song of tolerance, Scouting has abandoned the principles of right and wrong and muddied the waters, Scouting has tipped its hat towards change, Scouting has drowned out the voice of God, Scouting has left us in the murky waters, and Scouting has expected us to ride the float downstream.  Scouting has abandoned us and biblical principles, Scouting has left its roots...Scouting has left the building, the leaders, the dads, and the boys.  

There is no greater tragedy than for us, a scouting family to see this decline, this treachery.  How dare they?  Really?  At first I was sad, I shed some tears while talking and listening to my friend.  She and I explained how we felt.  I reiterated our Scouting Heritage which goes back to 1920 ~ 93 years ago, to Arthur Harold Rowe, Sr., Scott's Great-Grandfather.  

It is sorrowful but as I sorrowed I began to feel something more, something stronger.

Anger may be the best word to describe it.  Now there is a pall on everything, every event, every conversation.  I think about it tonight as 2 of my sons stand and receive their badges for the year, their belt loops, so proud, working so hard, my mind reels back to the fall and the winter when they begged me and we worked on different activities because they wanted it so much; there was a desire among them to work hard and achieve.

Scouting leaving me behind makes me downright mad, mad for these boys who will not understand at this age.  Mad for my eldest son who is an Eagle, mad he will have his ceremony amid the rubble and rousings of this.  Mad that while his work is not tainted, he will always carry this on his shoulders.  

The work and effort are his but the organization which gave him the award will not be.   This same child, whose first 3 initials are BSA.  While we did not do this purposely and only recognized the similarity later, it was rather apropos, knowing before he was born that his "Eagle father" would be taking him in a few short years to his first Cub meetings and coaching him all the way through to Eagle if that be what he desired.

I am Mad for my husband, an Eagle, mad because I see it in his eyes, he had hopes of all his sons achieving Eagle and now Scouting has let him down.  Mad because I listen to him tell his tale of while we were at one Scouting event tonight, he and BSA, our oldest, were at another, listening in a meeting, listening and responding to the efforts of some parents to take a stand and exclaim what is truth but others saying that this should all be for the boys and that we should move on and accept this and try to change it.  There's that word again.  I am mad at that word.  The time to change has come and gone!  Did you try to change when the Board was meeting?  Did you call?  Did you send emails?  Did you write?  Did you sign petitions?  One of the Executive Committee members I have never met, but have had conversations with on the phone, he was against this change.  Quite the successful billionaire, he was a strong Christian.  He went onto his eternal reward in April.  I'm glad he's not here to see this.  He knew his money was temporal; he didn't take it with him, but he took his conviction and his willingness to stand against a change, a harmful one.  He had what mattered, a heart and mind solely after the Lord, solely after what is right, he knew the difference between right and wrong and he lived by it. 

Those who said in my husband's meeting tonight that it's for the boys...That's right, it's for the boys, Scouting has left the boys and it's up to us as parents to do right by the boys.  They are watching us, wondering are we going to compromise, are we going to chase after an organization that doesn't match what we sit in the pew on Sunday and spew?  Does it match what we read in our Bibles?  Does it jive with what we are teaching in our homes when we lie down, when we get up, and when we walk along the way?  If you really think this is for the boys, don't be a hypocrite.  If you want to go downstream, if you want to hold the balloon strings of compromise, fine, but explain to your children that the rest of your life is false also.  If anything is a blessing, it's knowing that my husband has stood for what he believes and isn't jumping after false doctrine, and while sad and disappointed and a little angry too I suspect, he showed our son an example of faithfulness, communicated by his willingness to go tonight as well as speak words of truth there and with our eldest afterward, and in doing so blessed him.

Tonight, I realized I was witnessing the end of an era, one of the last times I will see my children achieve in an organization which has severed its ties from us.  Scott's Eagle ceremony, scheduled for August 10, was already precious in my mind even though it has yet occurred.  But now, I cannot even imagine the feelings it will evoke.  My husband spoke tonight of taking the true principles of Boy Scouts of America

and continuing with the boys, alone, apart from an organization we cannot find anymore.  There are other options starting to pop up as well.  Scouting was only 100 years old, not ancient by any means.  

Maybe some more change needs to occur.  Maybe in climbing upstream we can affect change in a positive way, maybe a new beginning is on the horizon, a new future, a new way, maybe one that is ancient, that's as old as time itself.  

Maybe we can go back to the book and start over.  Really?  Really...

Grandma Jane Tells a Story

     After the little ones had gone to bed and I was busy busy working, moving to and fro throughout the kitchen, family room, and laundry...I overheard JB helping Sarah Kelly, who was trying to think of just 4 more questions for her interview writing assignment from Elizabeth Hempton.

Since I missed the suggestions but could from her a tone of wonder and uncertainty in her voice, I listened up when I heard a familiar story being told and especially when I witnessed Scott putting down a book to listen also.
The story was about our dear dear friends who adopted us as "grandchildren" when we were newly weds in Kansas, far from home in July 1993.  This older couple purposely stole our hearts and we adored them and they in turn, us.  Always ones to dole out advice and "suggestions", we were eager for their expertise and knowledge.  Their top priority was to evangelize anyone and everyone.  If they found you a believer, they rejoiced with and for you.  But the point of this story is that they always asked.  It was a mission they were on and advanced for the Lord.
     My husband then related a specific incident in which these 2 dear people were in a car accident which smashed in one whole side of their car.  "Grandma" Jane, who was unable to walk very far without her cane, and hardly at all without it, had to overcome a physical struggle to get out of the car; her side was completely smashed in.  She had to crawl all the way across the seat on hands and knees and mostly drag herself out through the other side of the car and through the window.  The young gal, who caused the accident, was extremely upset and very concerned and contrite since she had run the red light.  Jane hobbled over to this gal just as she was rushing to them and was beside herself wanting to know if this elderly couple was okay.  Jane, bruised and limping, placed her hand on the gal's shoulder, explained that they were fine and asked how she was.  The young girl, who obviously was physically okay, yet visibly shaken, kept telling them she was not hurt but it was obvious she was overcome with emotion at the results of her actions.  Jane prodded further, "No, honey, I want to know if you are okay?  Do you know Jesus?  Is He your Lord and Saviour?
     That day, on the street in the midst of broken glass, a smashed car, and aching bones, an almost 80 year old woman decided that salvation was the most important question to ask and she never missed a beat.  In fact, I have often wondered if that was how she made it out of the car; she had an appointment, an appointment with only one question that needed answering.  She made it her mission to testify about the goodness of the Lord and witness to that gal at the busy intersection of 75th and Belinder in Prairie Village, Kansas.
     This story impacted my daughter, a fellow believer, tonight, in 2013, almost 20 years after the incident occurred.  She has been pondering it ever since.  In the days to come, I expect we will hear questions, wanting to know more about this salvation pursuer, more about their dear walk with the Lord, and more about our relationship with them which continued on this earth until Jane's passing onto her heavenly reward on November 15, 1998, and Davis's  passing in November, 2006.  While Sarah Kelly never had the opportunity to meet Grandma Jane in this life, she will rejoice with her in heaven, no doubt being highly entertained with wide-eyed wonder at the stories she will tell.
     Now, what do you think the question was that my husband suggested to Sarah Kelly that she include in her interview for writing class?

   

FRANCE HERE WE COME!

On the way to France---- pictures to follow.