salmonella/scrubs/day of service/in remembrance
This has been an unusual week, not that any of them are ever normal. Our daughter Abby, a senior in high school, came down with something on Tuesday (the flu?), and missed a day of school, then returned, but did not seem to be getting better. Then Thursday afternoon my wife noticed a tv spot about salmonella and peanut butter.
Being the good father that I am, I had made Abby peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on Monday and Tuesday mornings (on whole grain bread, better than the pizza and fries her school serves, or so I thought), and she had eaten them, and so I googled "peanut butter recall" and there it was, the very brand I had purchased at our local grocer, and the very code #: 2111.
We shifted gears on her treatment, she began to overcome her nausea, I returned the peanut butter and received two bucks, which did not cover the pharmacy, medical office co-pays, gingerale, or ibuprophin, of course, but at least we knew.
I realized Abby was feeling better when she began to refer to me as the "poisoner"!
During the recovery time, out of pity, we allowed Abby to control the television selections, and we soon found ourselves watching one episode of "Scrubs" after another. It does have its own form of odd, adolescent humor, especially the daydreaming sequences and the celebrity cameo appearances; it is a version, of sorts, of a real life "Simpsons", and there are lots of take-offs, including Gray's Anatomy, which seems to be grist for continuing satire. Anyway, when you have come to the end of an episode of Scrubs, you are in exactly the same place as when you began, only you have laughed a couple of times.
This morning our congregation was engaged in something we do once or twice a year---a day of service in the community. This has been a part of my own church experience since St. Timothy's in Greensboro and Mount Tabor in Winston-Salem, and it is always a very energizing day. Local non-profits love it because they receive an infusion of volunteer assistance (which they have requested). The participants like it because they enjoy spending time together--today I painted. And it helps a church to do something constructive, and beyond its own walls. In most cases, as today, it is intergenerational.
We worked at the Community Health Clinic. Jack, who is living with us from Haiti, went along. He painted as well, but in all likelihood he will volunteer there in the future---he speaks spanish and french, and as 40% of their clients are latino/a, and many others from french-speaking african countries, there is a great need for his gifts (he interprets in our medical clinic in Cap Haitien). So that was good too.
Today, Bill, one of the pillars of the Mount Tabor Church in Winston-Salem, is being remembered. He and his wife Pat have been key leaders of that church for some time. I remember Bill would always wear a brilliant red blazer whenever NC State had won a significant football or basketball game against one of their rivals (like Wake Forest or Duke or UNC). As I was only 39 when I was appointed to his congregation, he was patient and supportive in my years there. Bill died earlier in the week, after an extended illness. My prayers are with his family today, and with that community.
Being the good father that I am, I had made Abby peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on Monday and Tuesday mornings (on whole grain bread, better than the pizza and fries her school serves, or so I thought), and she had eaten them, and so I googled "peanut butter recall" and there it was, the very brand I had purchased at our local grocer, and the very code #: 2111.
We shifted gears on her treatment, she began to overcome her nausea, I returned the peanut butter and received two bucks, which did not cover the pharmacy, medical office co-pays, gingerale, or ibuprophin, of course, but at least we knew.
I realized Abby was feeling better when she began to refer to me as the "poisoner"!
During the recovery time, out of pity, we allowed Abby to control the television selections, and we soon found ourselves watching one episode of "Scrubs" after another. It does have its own form of odd, adolescent humor, especially the daydreaming sequences and the celebrity cameo appearances; it is a version, of sorts, of a real life "Simpsons", and there are lots of take-offs, including Gray's Anatomy, which seems to be grist for continuing satire. Anyway, when you have come to the end of an episode of Scrubs, you are in exactly the same place as when you began, only you have laughed a couple of times.
This morning our congregation was engaged in something we do once or twice a year---a day of service in the community. This has been a part of my own church experience since St. Timothy's in Greensboro and Mount Tabor in Winston-Salem, and it is always a very energizing day. Local non-profits love it because they receive an infusion of volunteer assistance (which they have requested). The participants like it because they enjoy spending time together--today I painted. And it helps a church to do something constructive, and beyond its own walls. In most cases, as today, it is intergenerational.
We worked at the Community Health Clinic. Jack, who is living with us from Haiti, went along. He painted as well, but in all likelihood he will volunteer there in the future---he speaks spanish and french, and as 40% of their clients are latino/a, and many others from french-speaking african countries, there is a great need for his gifts (he interprets in our medical clinic in Cap Haitien). So that was good too.
Today, Bill, one of the pillars of the Mount Tabor Church in Winston-Salem, is being remembered. He and his wife Pat have been key leaders of that church for some time. I remember Bill would always wear a brilliant red blazer whenever NC State had won a significant football or basketball game against one of their rivals (like Wake Forest or Duke or UNC). As I was only 39 when I was appointed to his congregation, he was patient and supportive in my years there. Bill died earlier in the week, after an extended illness. My prayers are with his family today, and with that community.
posted by Ken Carter at 9:52 AM
Carter's Roost
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