To Whom It May Concern

Just to clear up any concerns you might have had: The tilapia fillets that end up at Whole Foods have not been fed fish poop.

The End of All Things Is Near - What's For Dinner?

As usual, Rabbi was in fine form this week for classes. I hear he gave a lecture worth $1000 on Monday night to the intro class. And then on Tuesday night, somewhat in conjunction with Messianic Concepts of the First Century, he gave the most amazing lecture I've ever heard on food. I'm sure that I can't do it justice; I probably didn't even understand it all. But what I did glean from it resonated strongly.

For starters, "food is always a point of contact to remind us of creation, covenant, and communal identity." This ties in nicely to the fact that people don't like to eat alone (unless you're a C and you can read a book - a form of contact in disguise). It also seems to be a great correlation to Rabbi's sermon a few weeks ago on John 21. Jesus makes the disciples breakfast, and you can see through the exchange how He is using the meal as a point of contact. And, as Rabbi said, part of the good news of the resurrection is that "you never have to eat breakfast alone again."

The topic of food then expanded to include the arena for sharing food - hospitality. "Hospitality is the compelling reality that we are incomplete without each other. . .we share food because of the shared reality of our need to eat, which leads to a shared life." This is so true. Very rarily do Eric and I have a couple over for dinner without feeling significantly closer and more connected to them by the end of the evening. And it's not just about sheer time. The link is clearly - at least clearly now thanks to Rabbi - the result of food and hospitality.

But really, how important is hospitality? Rabbi pointed us to 1 Peter 4:7-9: "⁷The end of all things is near. Therefore be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray. ⁸Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. ⁹Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling." Wow.

The hospitality-love connection is seen in that "we offer good food as a reflection of how we value the other person." That's not to disqualify spontaneous hospitality that offers what it has, but there is something disarming about having someone go to all the trouble of fixing you a fantastic meal. When we last went to Jim and Joy Grainge's house, they fixed steak (my favorite), stuffed mushrooms (Eric's favorite), and an array of other amazing dishes. I was blessed and blown away that they had remembered our favorites and put in the time and money to prepare for our dinner together. In short, I felt valued by the meal they chose to serve, even loved.

So what does it take to have a successful meal like we had at the Grainges? "Good food and good company." Rabbi gave the example of going on a date with your wife to your favorite restaurant. If, as you're about to leave, your wife asks how she looks and you give the wrong answer, the romantic evening could very well be lost. Or, if you go and have fabulous conversation, but everything about the meal is off - overcooked, not as good as you remembered, etc. - it takes something away from the overall experience. Yes, it requires good food and good company for a good meal. And when you have those things, you experience an "engaging sense of wishing it could go on forever."

Which is exactly the purpose. Every meal that we eat is to be a reminder that someday we will sit at the Messianic Banquet with our victorious King, the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. The food will be amazing. The company couldn't be better. And it will be the ultimate contact point for life in the world to come.

I Remember

I remember what the other random thought was. Sometimes we sit around and ponder how God (or perhaps more specifically Jesus) exemplified each of the redemptive gifts. The other night I was struck by an example of God as a Giver.

It was a couple of weeks ago at Shabbat. Rabbi was talking about truly and selflessly loving the people in our lives. I realized that the only person I even come close to doing this to (and by no means fully achieve) is Eric. And it can really wear me out sometimes, because of me not because of him. But God loves everyone, which means that He has limitless emotional energy. And the only redemptive gift that even comes close to that is the giver, with all of their boundless energy. That's why God is the ultimate Giver.

Take a moment to thank God for all the givers in your life.

Blogging Frenzy

Wow, we are adding bloggers by the minute here. Make sure you check out the two latest blogs associated with our community, courtesy of Jacklynn Walters and out-of-towner Aaron Schwartz.

Random Thoughts

I've been collecting random thoughts over the past few weeks, none of which seem to warrant a full post.

*I was walking from Tom and Leah's to Paul and Lauren's (a common occurrence), enjoying the fall temperatures and the changing leaves when it hit me - only God could make the dying process beautiful. Simple and certainly not original, but true nonetheless. He so emodies goodness and beauty that He created even the dying off of the leaves to be breathtaking. I love that.

*We are a very backward blogging community. Most bloggers have readers they've never met, who might be living on the other side of the United States, and perhaps someday they will actually meet and be real-time friends. Or perhaps not. We, on the other hand, blog to and for the friends we already have. Leah pointed out that it removes the creepy aspect of blogging, and I would have to agree. But it's still backward.

*Bother. There was something else, but now I can't remember.

*Make sure you check out the MHOP site. It's quite impressive, with contributions from more people in our community than you probably realize.

The Way to a Woman's Heart (or at least my own)

In light of the addition of the recipe column, I have a confession to make. I have joked about it for a long time, but I think it has passed into reality - one of my primary love languages is gifts of food.

Going on a trip? Let me pack you a month's worth of food. Feeling down today? Here's your favorite candy bar. Your stomach hurts? I'll go get you some crackers.

And it's a two-way street. I love to receive gifts of food as well as give them. A bag of candy pumpkins, farm-fresh eggs, honey, white tea - all thoughtful food gifts I've received from some of my favorite people, and usually for no good reason at all. Just because they love me.

So if you're pondering your own love language or that of someone you love, keep gifts of food in mind. I might have to write Gary Chapman a little note about this.

On a completely different note, check out this article from discovery.com that quotes Emily Habinck, Eric's cousin. I didn't start this blog to brag about Eric's family, but when everyone keeps doing impressive things I just can't help myself. I think part of her research also showed up in an article by the Washington Post. Timely information to keep in mind during the beautiful fall weather we're having, especially if you're heading out into the wild soon.

Food for All

If you'll notice the latest addition in the column to your right, you'll see that I have yet again been influenced by Leah, whose sharing of the Parmesan chicken recipe went over really well at our house. I'm starting what I hope will be a new trend in our blogging community - mainly because there are recipes from you all that I'd like to have (starting with Jacklynn's healthy-yummy cookies).

So there it is. The Glazed Apple Cookie recipe that I made for the latest CineSimon showing (and my friends at the post office and Eric's birthday dinner). Please keep in mind that with any recipe, there have probably been changes from the original for any variety of reasons. I'll try to post what I actually used.

I've done my part. Now you need to bust out your own recipes and get posting.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday, Eric! I continue to be amazed and blessed by who you are. And I just wanted any readers out there to know, in case they doubted which I'm sure they didn't. You are more the man I wanted than even I could have imagined in all my rose-colored daydreams. Baruch HaShem. To Him be the glory as we surrender unto His great adventure.

And thanks for always challenging me to be brave and supporting me when I waiver. I love you.

A Severe Mercy

When we were at Kelli's wedding festivities this summer (just a note, but this blog really owes a lot to Kelli's wedding - the inaugural pool post, the wild dancing picture, and now this), Eric and I spent most of our time with Matt and Stephanie, an awesome couple who we don't get to see nearly often enough. Being newlyweds themselves, and readers with good taste, they recommended a book that someone had introduced them to - A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken.

You probably realize by now that I have read a lot of books. In fact, between my job with Latte Books, my time at the institute selling Rabbi's books, my dream of an online bookstore, and my own private reading habits, I practically breathe books.

That being said, I've never really read or heard of a story quite like what the author shares in A Severe Mercy. It's not so much a memoir of his life as it is a memoir of the relationship between him and his wife. Don't be alarmed if you're not a romantic; it's not just a story of falling in love. Rather it is the unique tale of them falling in love, analyzing how to stay in love, and finding God and dealing with how that impacts the whole concept.

To top it off, the couple was friends with C.S. Lewis, so they include some brilliant letters from Lewis during several critical junctures in their lives.

It's a more honest and intentional discussion of love than I think I've ever encountered. I was challenged to reevaluate my love for Eric - not condemned or necessarily convicted, but definitely challenged. I have to admit that there were certain parts that I wasn't sure if I agreed with, but they served to raise questions, questions that were worth wrestling through for me.

I don't want to share anymore, in case anyone wants to read it. Not knowing the whole story is half of the experience. (But if you get it from the library, be prepared to wait a bit. There's always a line.)

Shaul's Conversion

And no, that doesn't mean the apostle (who arguably never converted - as Rabbi would ask, what did he convert to?). I'm pleased to welcome Paul into our humble blogging community. As he has increased his interaction through his humorous commentary, we have been eagerly anticipating the launch of his very own blog. It promises to be rich combination of humor, daily life, and thoughtful commentary on spiritual issues.

Check it out at http://embracingchange-shaul.blogspot.com/. (And props to Paul for the great name choice - it couldn't be more fitting.)

Survey Solution

First of all, a big thanks to everyone who responded to the request for reader responses. (Who knew that you can do actual surveys on blogspot. Thanks to Leah, next time I'll be much more sophisticated with my survey question. Although I have to admit, the liberties that everyone took with their own "interpretations" was probably worth the informality.)

Second, due to such great responses, I feel compelled to reveal at least a glimpse of the inspiration behind the not-so-hypothetical date. Consider this quote from a comment by "Mr. Anonymous":

"For the sake of the example, I'll assume the date took place in Colorado (a good place for a date to happen), so that sort of eliminates my first guess. The second option is that she was having the most incredible first date of her life and got so worked up she blew her blood pressure through the roof and gave herself a bloody nose. Just give it time fella; she'll be ok."

Hint: the actual participants in this potentially awkward situation have recently been seen on this very blog.

A Survey

I need some reader responses on this.

A guy and a girl are on their first date. They have met once or twice before during brief, group-type encounters. Now at dinner, the girl takes a trip to the restroom. When she doesn't return for 15 minutes, does the guy assume:

a) She's having some bowel issues.
b) She left, using the restroom as a convenient excuse.

Grownuphood

Last year as my birthday approached and I felt the usual mounting excitement, I had a startling realization - someday I would grow up. And growing up would include not counting down the days to my birthday with the wonder and anticipation of a small child on Christmas Eve. I think my heart shed a small tear just thinking about it.

It happened.

This year I almost forgot that my birthday was coming. And I certainly didn't count the days. Inexplicably, in the last 12 months I crossed that mysterious threshold (or perhaps the first of several) into grownuphood.

Simon Vacation

A few details to go with the Colorado pictures I posted (and some more photos). . .

Reason for the Trip: To celebrate Betty and Wolf's 35th anniversary, Betty's significant birthday, and Brandi's 30th. My 24th birthday also happened to fall on that Sunday. (The trip also "conveniently" gave us an opportunity to meet Ruble, Brandi's boyfriend.)

Trip Highlights: We rented a cabin in the mountains, so it was a great weekend of small hikes, stargazing, wood fires, and the unmatchable Simon Uno game. And, since it was vacation and just about everyone's birthday, we encouraged each other to do what we really enjoyed. For me, that meant reading - really close to Eric.

Birthday Highlight: I'm sure that Brandi and Ruble had a good laugh at us city folk and our fascination with the birds, but I thought it was nice of the Lord to send me a gift for my birthday.

It was a great trip, and I am completely blessed to have a family like the Simons. It just keeps getting better. Brandi and Ruble are coming to Kansas City this weekend, so the fun continues. . .

Jesus, I'm a Sucker

One of my birthday gifts this year was the newest Waterdeep CD, Heart Attack Time Machine. I've been listening to it in the car, and I can't get the lines of this chorus out of my head (for the full sticking effect, you have to hear Don's folky voice yourself):

Jesus, I'm sucker / I wish I believed less of the lies
Did anything I thought I knew / turn out to be true

Maybe it's just a part of growing older, but I am increasingly identifying with that confession. The most obvious setting for it is Jewish root classes, but I feel it even about lies from the enemy in general.

Praise God for His judgments and His mercy that reveal the lies to us. In my case, at least, little by little. One step of the journey at a time.

Colorado Pictures

I realize I've been terrible remiss in posting, so until I actually have time to write something here are pictures from our trip to Colorado last week. We went with Eric's parents to see his sister, Brandi, and her boyfriend, Ruble.

Honey for the Soul

It's September now, which means that Fall is quickly approaching, regardless of what your thermostat might be telling you. As Joe Fox would have said, had the screenplay been written a bit differently, "Don't you love Kansas City in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."

Only here in Kansas City we actually have something to get excited about this fall, something far more exhilarating than bouquets of sharpened pencils, as romantic as Tom Hanks makes it sound.

The Jewish Roots Institute.

I realized the other day that I'm looking forward to taking classes this fall at the Jewish Roots Institute like I look forward to eating Dots or really soft snickerdoodles. It's that same anticipation, that same so-good-I-can-taste-it-already sensation.

But then tonight I heard a much more poetic and, I think, fitting description from a very sweet and sincere long-time student of the institute. The experience and knowledge you gain from attending classes is "honey for the soul." If we are, indeed, supposed to "taste and see that the Lord is good," Jewish classes are what's for dinner. Consider yourself officially invited.

Callawassie Island

If anyone is actually still reading my blog, I should probably apologize for the long gap in posts. I've been off to the islands, or at least an island, and I didn't quite find time to write. This is a starfish - long dead - from the Folly Field Beach at Hilton Head Island. We spent a hot two hours there. Eric got a sunburn, I definitely stepped on living creatures in the ocean, and we were both fascinated by the little holes that would open up out of the ground, spitting out water and often little chocolate-sprinkle-like pellets (you can see one in the upper right of the photo).

But the view on our own island, Callwassie, was pretty amazing, too. This is a view of one of the many lagoons at sunset, taken from the front porch of the villa where we stayed. We saw so much wildlife - aligator snouts in the lagoons, egrets nesting down for the night, herons taking up residence on the golf course, a disgruntled owl, and a gel-like spider.

We were totally blessed to be there. We had tons of opportunities to excerise and to enjoy God's creation. It rained almost every day I was there, so Eric and I got watch (and play in) the storms. We loved it.

But for me, it's always good to be home.

Dancing Fools

In case you wanted to see the "tan" I worked so hard for before Kelli's wedding, here's a picture of Eric and I at the reception. Can you tell we're livin' it up?

Betty Jo Goes to Washington

This week in Washinton D.C. is the Coupe Mondiale - the world championship competition for accordionists. Musicians come from all over the world to the Coupe, and thankfully this year it was held in the United States. I say thankfully, because it meant that my extremely talented mother-in-law, Betty Jo Simon, had the chance to attend the competition.

Along with playing in the UMKC Accordion Orchestra, she entered the Maddalena Belfiore Entertainment Competition for Female Accordionists. What option did the judges have, really, when confronted with such a great musician and entertainer? Nevermind those musicians from New Zealand, Poland, etc. Betty Jo took first place. We're extremely excited for her. It is a well-deserved honor.

This picture is the cover from her Musically Yours album. You can hear some samples from the album at her website, http://www.bettyjosimon.com/.

All But My Life

Working for Mark has the added benefit of exposing me to books that I'm interested in reading, but I just never knew it. For instance, the other day we sold a copy of All But My Life, the story of Holocaust survivor Gerda Weissmann Klein. I promptly went to the library and checked it out. In my own defense, I have to say that this isn't a morbid fascination with the Holocaust. But rather it stems from two things. The first is the realization that for everyone writing these books, it was not a short season of sadness or hardship but a long season that they never forget or live without an awareness of, unlike most of us. Second, each story is valuable because each life is valuable. If everyone in life has a story to tell, how much more do these survivors have to tell. And so no matter how many Holocaust memoirs I read, I never find them boring or predictable. Eric jokes, "You are unique - just like everyone else." It's meant to be a joke, yet it still rings true.

All But My Life had some especially "unique" aspects that touched me. After being separated from her brother, her father, and finally her mother, Gerda spent years in Nazi work camps enduring depravation and abuse. At the end of the war when the liberation troops came through, she encountered an American soldier walking to the barracks where she and the other girls had camped out because they were unsure of where to go next.

"Shaking my head, I stared at this man who was to me the embodiment of all heroism and liberty. He greeted me. I must tell him from the start, I resolved, so that he has no illusions about us. Perhaps I had acquired a feeling of shame. After all, for six long years the Nazis had tried to demean us.
'May I see the other ladies?' he asked.
'Ladies!' my brain repeated. He probably doesn't know, I thought. I must tell him.
'We are Jews,' I said in a small voice.
'So am I,' he answered. Was there a catch in his voice, or did I imagine it?
I could have embraced him but I was aware how dirty and repulsive I must be.
'Won't you come with me?' he asked. He held the door open. I didn't understand at first. I looked at him questioningly but not a muscle of his face moved. He wanted me to feel that he had not seen the dirt or the lice. He saw a lady and I shall be forever grateful to him for his graciousness."

Books and Buyers

One of the things I enjoy about my new position with Latte Books is (as Anne Shirley might say) the scope for imagination that it allows.

Sometimes it is easy to see a connection between book and buyer. A buyer from Washington D.C. orders a book on history and politics. From Southern California comes an order for a diet and exercise book. The Manhattan, KS buyer needs a book on gender studies before the fall semester begins.

At other times, however, there is much to wonder about. Today I shipped a book to a man - Surviving Colon Cancer. Is it for him? His wife? A friend? A parent? It was a bittersweet moment in the Shipping & Handling Department as I sealed the envelope.

Or take one day last week, for instance. A woman ordered a copy of Wild at Heart. To give away to a man in her life? Or to read herself, in hopes of understanding him better? That same day a man ordered a copy of Captivating, the book by John Eldridge and his wife that is basically a female Wild at Heart. My mind raced all over again, imagining the potential future readers of the book I shipped off.

Ever so often we sell a book that Marky actually bought from me. Perspectives, a book on missions, found a new owner today, as did The Jane Eyre Affair. I wonder what they will think of my books, what kind of people they are to be searching these particular books out, and if reading them will have any kind of effect on their life.

I will never receive an answer to my musings, I know. But there is something fun in wondering.

Peter

(I promise not to always write such longs posts. . .)

Having written about The Nazi Officer's Wife, I would be remiss in not writing about the even more amazing story of Holocaust survivor Peter Loth.

Born in a concentration camp in 1943 to a Jewish mother, Peter was allowed to live because Nazi doctors performed experiments on both him and his mother. During the liberation process at the end of the war, Peter ended up in a the care of a Polish woman, the only woman he knew as "Mama" until he was 12 or 13.

Unfortunately, post-war Poland was not a safe place for an orphaned German Jew. Peter was in and out of orphanages as his Polish mama did everything in her power to keep him safe. The details of the depravation, sexual abuse, and loss that he experienced in those years is overwhelming and heart breaking.

As a teenager, Peter was reunited with his real mother, who was married to an American GI and living in Germany. Her husband was African American, and Peter was introduced to his two half-sisters. As if his life weren't tragic enough, Peter and his new family moved back to the States - to Georgia in the late 1950s. The first people they met were the Ku Klux Klan. As Peter says, "and the beatings began again."

His story goes on, and you can go to his website for a better summary or to order a copy of his DVD. But one day he found Jesus. And through Jesus he learned to forgive. I think there is a part of human nature that likes the extreme example, and Peter's life certainly fits the bill. The Lord has helped him to walk in true forgiveness, and it is changing people around the world. He travels everywhere, but particularly places like Germany, Poland, Austria, and Israel, to share his story and the power of forgiveness. He has had former SS officers come up to him, asking for forgiveness and seen miracles happen when he does.

It is a powerful testimony, and you should really check it out for yourself if you haven't seen the DVD already. Having met him myself, I can't say enough about what an amazing man Peter is. The love that God has poured out on him has truly transformed him. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Wow. Only God can do that.

There is something quite satisfying about recognizing and embracing your place in _______(fill in the blank - the world, your family, your job, the body of Messiah). The older I get - no age comments, please - the more obvious it becomes to me what I am.

I am a maintainer.

I love maintaining. I personally find visioncasting too fuzzy and fruitless, while implementing it downright difficult and requires a good amount of conflict. But maintaining, there's something I can get behind.

As the newest (and happily) employed member of the Latte Books team, it seemed appropriate to mention that my new job is all about maintaining. I maintain the ebb and flow of books that provide Marky - and now me - with income. I sit down at my makeshift desk in the utility closet and send books to people, a task that simultaneously pleases both me and the customer. Maintaining gives me that warm fuzzy feeling like a cup of hot tea or a bag of black licorice.

To take it a step further, however, I think maintaining is a part of my spiritual DNA. Arthur Burk talks about the increased ability to bless the land that is inherent with the redemptive gift of servant. Blessings are meant to be given over and over in order to sustain the state of blessing. It is spiritual maintenance.

And instead of finding this repitition boring or mundane, I feel my spirit come alive with excitement. Everything I've ever learned or heard around me convinces me that repitition and maintenance should and must be boring tasks. But I believe I am learning to disregard those voices.

The Nazi Officer's Wife

We recently attended the Tish B'Av service at a local synagogue, and before the service they showed a documentary called The Nazi Officer's Wife. I was so intrigued that I checked out a copy of the book by the same name. It is the memoir of Edith Hahn Beer, a Jewish woman who survived the Holocaust by faking her identity. By an incredible series of events, she went from a hunted fugitive in Vienna to the Third Reich's most valuable type of citizen - the childbearing wife of a Nazi officer.

Her memoir examines all of the trials and stresses of a "U-Boat," a Jew hiding from Nazi persecution in plain sight, surrounded by the sea of anti-Semitism that permeated every aspect of society. Her story shows the incredible resourcefulness and courage that often marks Holocaust narratives, while also going on to describe the rejection she faced from fellow Jews after the war because she had not suffered enough.

I think I was so captivated by her story because it exemplified realities of the war in middle-class Germany society (through the eyes of a Jew) that I only read about in historical sources - how good life was during the earlier years of the war, the complete silence and avoidance of any recognition that Jews used to live there, the horror of the Russians coming, and life after the war including a deep fear of the Jews returning in vengeance.

If you're interested in Holocaust literature, this is a definitely a book to add to your reading list.

Pool Ponderings

I'm a pale person. This is a fact that I came to accept at a young age. Perhaps this serves as some kind of excuse for why I found myself so perplexed two weeks ago. I was going to be a bridesmaid in my good friend Kelli's wedding, where I would be wearing a halter dress with a low back. In honor of my well-tanned friend, I decided I should - perhaps for the first time in my life - try to lay out at the pool.

My first attempt was a complete failure. It rained on me.

So four days before the wedding I tried again. It was a weekday afternoon, so it wasn't too crowded. A woman was on the far side of the pool and a younger guy sat next to the entry gate. I took a chair a comfortable distance away from the guy and tried to settle in.

The problem with laying out is that I get so hot. Yet this seems to be the point. I brought some books and some writing to work on, in an attempt to distract myself from the blazing heat. Soon two girls came in, taking two of the chairs between me and the guy. Keep in mind, it's not crowded. There were any number of chairs they could have chosen around the pool, but these were evidently the chairs of choice. Fine. No big deal.

What their presence did remind me of is that I obviously have no idea how to navigate pool culture with any kind of style. What's the proper etiquette for choosing your pool chair? Perhaps I had unknowingly taken the seat of the "regulars." And how often should one get in the pool? When should you turn over?

As I was facing the pool music, another girl came in. There was only one chair remaining between me and the first two girls, and sure enough this was the most desirable chair at the pool.

So there I was - at the pool, incredibly hot, and right next to strangers. I threw caution to the wind and actually got in the pool. But now another complication seized me. What do you do by yourself in the pool when you're no longer a ten year old? Our pool isn't designed for laps. It's more like elbow macroni as opposed to the macaroni box. A rousing game of Marco Polo - by myself? Handstands? Complete awkwardness. And I realized (too late) that no one else had gone under the water when they got in the pool. Another pool rule broken. Cool kids don't swim under water.

As I did the backstroke across the 10-foot stretch of the pool, I resigned myself to my situation. I wasn't and never would be a fit for pool culture. Besides, I realized that for me (and admittedly this doesn't apply to all women), having a tan only increases that seemingly inevitable female tendency to obsess about our bodies and our appearance. I might as well swim and enjoy my pale self, wet hair and all.