Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 114

He is Risen

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 (NIV)
The last three months have been filled with much sadness and stress, along with a smattering of joy and peace. Mom’s decline, Mom’s passing, dealing with things she left behind. A new computer program at work and the many long hours involved with that. My fourth trip to Kenya, which was a great success.
And finally, a hand injury, which is why I will cut this post short.
It is Easter Sunday. Jesus Christ has risen from the grave, has conquered death and the devil, so that we might have eternal life. So that I don’t have to wonder where my mom has gone, so that I know I will see her again someday. So that I shouldn’t have to stress about things like computer issues or long trips in a plane to a third world country.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27 (NIV)
Thank you, Lord Jesus, for Your massive sacrifice and for granting us peace and eternal life. Amen

The Parable of the Ten Virgins

Here it is Palm Sunday, and here I am in Kenya. Hopefully this will post on my blog as scheduled. I never know with technology.
Before I left for Kenya, I made sure my ducks were in a row, paying the bills for the next month, making sure Hubby knew where the important papers were. I wanted to be ready for anything.
This parable, one of the last which Jesus shared with His followers, reminds us to always be ready. I know when I will return home from Kenya, but no one knows the day or the hour of when Jesus will return.
The Parable of the Ten Virgins (Matthew 25, New International Version)
25 “At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. 2 Five of them were foolish and five were wise. 3 The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. 4 The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. 5 The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.
6 “At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’
7 “Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. 8 The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’
9 “‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’
10 “But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.
11 “Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’
12 “But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’

13 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”

Parable of the Mustard Seed

I am writing this prior to leaving for Kenya and planning on it posting on my blog while I am gone. I hope that works and you read this on schedule.
Every time I go to Africa, it is in great hopes of doing great things. This parable reminds me that even the smallest thing can become great. But also, it’s not me that makes anything turn out right; it is only through the grace of God.
The Parables of the Mustard Seed and the Yeast (Matthew 13, New International Version)
31 He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. 32 Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”

33 He told them still another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”

Getting Ready to Go

As I write this it is 3:30 in the morning. I’ve been awake for about an hour and a half. I have a lot on my mind. Besides work, my mom’s affairs, publishing my novel, among other things, I am of course most excited about leaving for Kenya in 36 hours. I have so much to do before then, mostly packing and remembering what to pack. I’ve been there enough times that you would think I had this down to an exact science. Instead, however, the contents of my head remain as scattered as ever.
I know that most people don’t understand why I keep going back, why whenever my feet hit the sidewalk outside of the Nairobi airport, I feel like I have returned home. I’ve taken another quick look through my pictures and none of them do that feeling justice. You just have to be there and not only see the sites, but smell the smells and hear the sounds. Feel that dry breeze on your face or that dry hand in yours.
One of my goals this trip is to actually take a picture which captures those feelings. In the meantime, here are some totally random photos from previous trips. I tried to find ones which I maybe haven’t posted before.





 
Also, I wrote my Sunday blogs to post as scheduled, but I don’t know if I will have internet access to post them to Facebook and my other social media. So please try to return to this blog on your own the next two Sunday mornings. Thanks and God bless you all while I am gone. I'll have lots more pictures and stories to share when I return. 

The Parable of the Sower and the Seeds

Here’s another famous parable.
The Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13 New International Version)
 3 Then he told them many things in parables, saying: “A farmer went out to sow his seed. 4 As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. 5 Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. 6 But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. 7 Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. 8 Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. 9 Whoever has ears, let them hear.”
18 “Listen then to what the parable of the sower means: 19 When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path. 20 The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. 21 But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. 22 The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. 23 But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”

(If you’ve ever seen the 1973 movie “Godspell” or the play, you may remember that this is the song which follows the telling of this parable. I wish I could have found a video of the parable itself. It’s pretty cute. I suggest you find the movie and watch the whole thing if you never have. It just dawned on me that maybe I should do a blog series where I share the songs from “Godspell”.)

What do these pictures have in common?

It’s time to dredge up some horrible pictures from my past. There are many more floating around my house and someday I’ll share them as well.
First up is one of those warm late summer days when we made homemade root beer with Dad. Not the best picture of Dad, but at least his back is to us. The little one is my niece Paula. She had to wonder what in the world we were doing. And my sister Pat was being her typical goof-ball self.   Here we are demonstrating our sheer grace and talent. Every winter, Dad would flood the garden so we could have our own small ice skating rink. I would be the one wearing the vintage snowmobile suit with my arms in the air.
 And here’s a demonstration of Pat’s horsemanship skills, aboard our cousin’s horse Shawn. Need I point out my groovy knee-high socks. 
 Your last chuckle for the day. Ready for my seventh-grade Christmas choir concert. Mom, of course, whipped up this dress during the week before. And for those of you who continue to comment that my hair is currently getting so long and you’ve never seen me in long hair before, now you know why. 
Looking at these photos, I seem to have had a penchant for the color red. (Made you look back at the pictures, didn't I?) 

That one pink striped jacket

I’ve been sorting through old family pictures and getting a kick out of it. Man, what dorks we were! But hey, it was the sixties and seventies, so everyone was in the same boat.
I’ve barely made a dent in the boxes of pictures from my mom or even the dozen or so photo albums I’ve had stashed at my house for years. I do have other things to do, so I will have to give this project a rest for a while, at least until I am back from Kenya the middle of April.
In the meantime, though, here’s a taste of where I get my wanderlust from.   My sister Pat and I with Mom in the back of the pickup camper. From the date on this photo, 1967, my guess it was taken somewhere along the way to Niagara Falls.
 Again, 1967, so perhaps the same trip.
 Pat and I at the motel we parked at in Orange Texas in December of 1967.
 Coming out of our relative's beach house at Virginia Beach in 1968.
 The date on this one was 1969, the summer we went out west. I always suspected I knew where this was at (I was seven years old! How did I know anything?) I looked it up on Google.maps, and I think I could be right. I think it's Peaceful Valley Campground in Le Sueur, MN.
 Still June of 1969 and still somewhere out west. I'm not sure why we bounced back and forth between color and black and white film, but I am pretty sure it's the same trip, if only for the fact that I never seem to have changed my clothes.
 One of the geysers at Yellowstone.
 Hot springs at Yellowstone. And still the same clothes, but at least it  looks like Pat changed her pants.
Let's move ahead a few years and get us in some new clothes. Here I am with Pat at Wall Drug, in South Dakota, in 1971.

That's it for tonight. Come back on Friday for pictures of the rest of the family.

The Prodigal Son

This year, for the Sundays in Lent, I have been sharing various parables. I’m sure you have all heard this story somewhere along the line. 
The Parable of the Lost Son, Luke 15 (NIV)
11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” 
Have you been lost? But more importantly, have you been found? 

Spoons!

First, let me wish you all a safe and happy St Patrick’s Day. There’s no Irish in my blood, I am 100% bull-headed Kraut. I believe Germans are reportedly competitive as well, which is where this story comes from.
When I was a kid, we played a lot of card games. Cribbage with Dad and sometimes with Mom or Aunt Min and Uncle Fritz. Kings in the Corner and Crazy Eight. Rummy. A couple varieties of solitaire, whether we were alone or someone was watching over our shoulder.
However the card game which stole the show, hands down (pun intended), was Spoons.
Here’s a link explaining how it’s played. I don’t remember eliminating people from the game; that just wouldn’t be any fun. Coz the more the merrier.
I think I broke my finger once fighting over a spoon. Ok, maybe it was just jammed. But I know I have a scar on my arm from playing spoons at lunch at school one day. A spoon flew under the table and I naturally dove under it to retrieve the spoon before anyone else and in my haste ran my arm along the jagged edge of the underside of a chair.
Which reminds me, my initial memories of the game are playing around the kitchen table with Mom, Dad, Pat and a friend or two. But we also played it during lunch hour at school. I carried this little deck of cards with me for those occasions. It took extra skill to play the fast-paced game with such small cards.

But it was the games at home with the family which formed legends. Scratches and claw marks on our hands and fingers as we fought over that one remaining spoon. The time someone in their excitement over grabbing a spoon flew to their feet, hitting the kitchen light and cracking it.
Mom loved to tell of the time my friend Kathy, who was quiet and reserved, was playing the game with us on a camping trip. When she finally got four of a kind, she uncharacteristically jumped up with that spoon in her hand, excited about her victory.
Good times. Put those phones down, kids, and play a real game. 

A Chip's Slip

 Welcome to another edition of Merriment March. This story maybe isn’t as funny as it is just plain gross. But those stories make us laugh too, right?

One day in the late 1970s, my sister Pat, some of her friends and I were in another town, looking for a place to eat. We stopped in at the Chip’s burger joint downtown.
Chip's was originally a Southern chain with headquarters in Rocky Mount, NC, with approximately 150 locations at one time. When Chip's filed for bankruptcy in the mid-1960s, the company sold its franchising rights to a company in Wisconsin. Currently I see only three stands still open in this state. 
The one we entered that day is long gone.
On that particular day, we were standing in line, waiting to order and could see into the kitchen where a worker was flipping burgers on the grill. With an errant slip of his wrist, a burger slid to the floor. He picked it up and tossed it in the trash.
That happens, right?
Next thing you know, someone wearing what looks like a manager’s uniform walks up to the kid at the grill. His body language did not demonstrate that he was praising the kid. Next thing you know, the kid reaches into the garbage, retrieves the burger and sets it back on the grill, all under the now approving eye of the manager.
The heat from the grill will kill anything, right?
We all looked at each other, then turned and exited the building without so much as a word. In defense of the Chips brand, I’ve been to the one in Merrill a few times since and thought the food was great. I try to not watch what goes on in the kitchen. It's also been a very long time since I've eaten a hamburger out anywhere.  I was reminded of this story when I received this great ornament at a Christmas gift exchange. How many others have a story about Chip's burgers?