"Spiked His Lip Balm with Persimmon Juice"
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
(7:04am) Collette read several articles of Spurgeon on Monday, as she waited for dinner. In particular, she enjoyed a certain passage:
“We Calvinists have what the professionals call an “image problem.”… Sure, Calvinists are known for being smart; no one doubts that. But these are not good days for being smart. What is wanted in our day is sensitivity, and Calvinists do not get high marks for that. We are known as the “frozen chosen.” We are said to have calculating minds and, worse, cold hearts… We are caricatured as unconcerned about those who are suffering (it is, after all, God’s will) and about the lost (God will save those He has elected, and it’s pointless to worry about the non-elect).
“Our heroes are not much help either. Calvin, most people imagine, never smiled, except perhaps while Servetus was burning. Cotton Mather is remembered not for his celebration of the providence of God but for presiding over witch trials. Jonathan Edwards always looked like someone had spiked his lip balm with persimmon juice.”
– R.C. Sproul, Jr.
He then went on to expound on Spurgeon who was one of the great Calvinists who “heartily affirms the five points of Calvinism and yet has a warmth, compassion for the suffering and lost, and a sense of humor,” the sort of fellow who can “slip under the radar screen” because his demeanor as both a Calvinist and a humorous, compassionate fellow, rarely existed (apparently), simultaneously and publicly.
And once again, Indian Summer continued, with highs projected to be 80 alone that day. Over the wild and humorous conversations at the dupper table the evening before, Carrie had announced to everyone there gathered that her trip to New York had been canceled, with the hopes of visiting Australia over spring break instead, and staying with the Moss’. In other news, pirates had attacked a cruise ship off the coast of Somalia and the cruise ship had outrun the pirate rig.
And Theodore and Denae decided to take OLeif and Collette out for dinner. So when Collette heard that afternoon at the house, she rushed downstairs to shower, as she would not have enough time back at the apartment. She used the girls’ and Joe’s shampoos, one smelling of apples, and another of cloves. And then she and Mom left to ship Apple’s wedding present which meant a stop by Kinko’s and the Post Office where Apple’s present was shipped over to Aborigine-land on a boat for twenty-four dollars and ten cents. Then there was a cup of pretzel bites to share after a whirl by Hot Topic to pick up a pair of special pliers for Carrie’s earring, and to catch a look at “Trenton” who did, indeed, have a mass of silky wispy black hair on the top of his head. They were all very friendly and helpful there as well. On the way out, Mom purchased a triangular package of twelve glass tea light holders filled with Christmas fragrances from Famous Barr (Aunt Petunia’s old dreaded employer).
It was a lovely night. Lloyd and Harry’s Bar and Grill was the first destination, down in Old Saint Charles where most of the restaurants, wineries, and grills were hopping (and on a Tuesday night). There were bratwursts, hot wings with Ranch, steak kabobs in steak butter, and shrimp (which was all perfectly delicious) and all for about ninety-nine cents apiece. Their waitress was a spunky Tara who kept their glasses refilled, wearing a powder pink tank top.
“Wow, look at that jewelry!” Denae pointed to the ring on the girl’s finger, bearing a huge powder pink gem.
“Oh yeah,” Tara laughed, “This is my big fancy Target ring. Yeah, baby. No, actually, this is my Tiffany ring here. Beautiful, yes?”
They all laughed easily and ordered.
Meanwhile, Denae’s voice was hoarse from reading “The Song of Hiawatha” all the live-long morning with Wally, for his literature assignment. Afterwards, they meandered down Mainstreet in the balmy night air under a hazy moon and circled around the back of the shops where many of the store owners lived, or up top, where little lights twinkled and Christmas was being prepared. And they passed behind a dance studio where several miniature ballerinas spun on the balcony and giggled together. All the doors were open everywhere and the wind played in the yellow Ginkgo biloba leaves. All was followed by a trip to Oberweiss (where not only was ice cream sold, but many glass bottles of various milk, chocolate milk, juice, and eggnog for the holidays, eggs, cheese, and butter) for a good parfait glass of ice cream apiece, and all in all it was a pleasant time of conversation for all of them. It was there that Theodore told them his first job had been as a milkman, and that Bluebell ice cream was “tops” in his book. Although, that was before he had tried Oberweiss.