Phillips, Craig & Dean supports Denver area church in spreading the gospel through their upcoming movie “The Prophet’s Son”.
Film Project
This film is rich in music, politics, and drama. It dares to reopen the wounds of Columbine, expose the heartache of homeless, runaway youth, and demonstrate the bold faith and love of Christian believers. In the ever-present longing of the main characters for each other, The Prophet’s Son models purity in the kind of love that lays down its life for others. The movie is at once romantic and prophetic, demonstrating the power of God to conquer in every imaginable situation, while preparing His people for impending judgment.
UPDATE: 7.17.11 It was a fun night, hanging with Gwen!
A little humid and muggy for my taste, but it was fun. Plus, I feel so much more hip and cool around the ravishing Gwen, this little fireball of an intern!
Hopefully it is true what they say when they say :: Better late than never. Because, this is late.
Gavin turned 8 over a month ago and I just got his video finished, for a whole slew of really valid and extremely interesting reasons. Yeah, right. It just took the Gav and I awhile to sync our schedules.
LOVE this boy. Wrote about his birthday HERE. And now, for the movie we made together using, yes, songs from the 60s and 70s because that is what I do (he wanted rock -n- roll, for sure). Gavin loves life and embraces it with abandoned fervor. That is what I hoped to capture in a few photos and a little video:
That’s right. This is the centerpiece as of late. A crystal bowl full of sidewalk chalk. A container of every-SPF known to mankind. Bug spray and after-burn potions. And a basket full of left-behind swimsuits and trunks.
It’s what’s on the table and even flowers would not be more appropriate.
Another interesting part of the season is the bathroom just off the kitchen when everyone leaves. For there I usually find tiny pairs of underwear and little socks and flip-flops and shoes, hair ties and other misc. clothing…in very small sizes. If their mamas are looking for something, I may have it.
Nonna and Amelie. A Sunday afternoon nap. On the swing. In the shade. After a swim.
Good sign.
This is what I found when we arrived home from Chicago. The sweetest message ever!
We were SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sad our Kelley family didn’t go to Moslander Family Reunion with us this year (they are very busy and important people!), but they so kindly gave the dog room and board and took care of the house and garden for me. In fact – they took such good care of the garden it grew like a jungle and is so much more the blessed for me having been gone! THANK-YOU Steph and Tris and the 3 adorables! Love you so much and we want to tag along when you go to Chicago, soon! Pretty please?? We were thinking about you and missing you the whole time!
Gemma on a Saturday
cen·ter·piece, n.
1. Something in a central position, especially a decorative object or arrangement placed at the center of a table.
The basement apartment in Des Moines, Iowa (1959); the Washington Street Apartment (Joe and Tim show up 1961 and 1963); 1310 York Street, just two houses down from Grandma and Grandpa Baker; then the beloved 1723 York Street across the alley from Nancy Lydon (Tami and Danny are born, 1965 and 1966); the Jersey Ridge Road house in Davenport (1971); then the brand new house we built at 5506 North Howell (1972); the corner parsonage in Cedar Rapids (1973); a parsonage right next to the church in Robert, Louisiana (1975); Finally – 4995 ROOSEVELT PLACE IN GARY (1977) – the last of the houses where we all, Ross-the-Boss, Mrs. Moss and all the Little Landers, dwelled together before leaving the sweet (Glen Park C of G parsonage) nest my parents had provided the 7 of us…
“I’ve been around the world and as a matter of fact”*
Dave and I have lived in a few places (Minot, ND; Kokomo, IN; Sioux City, IA; Norfolk, NE; Denver-forever), different houses. And my parents have been all over since I left their home, too (Hobart, IN; Willard, OH; Richmond, IN; St Joe-MO; Butte, MT; Springfield, MO; back to St Joe-MO). I visited my parents in their current digs in Saint Joe early in the year. The house they are living in? Not home. No. But my parents? Wherever they land, is kinda home to parts of me. I always need to know where they are and what their house looks like so I will know the space my heart is rambling about in. Mom and dad are the fixed stars in my sky. LOVE them!
God, it seems you’ve been our home forever; long before the mountains were born,
Long before you brought earth itself to birth,
from “once upon a time” to “kingdom come”—you are God. Psalms
“Goin’ back to Indiana” ~ The Jackson 5
While we were at the Moslander Family Reunion last week in Chicago and Northwest Indiana, us old-timers took a late-afternoon, impromptu drive through the old neighborhoods; saw places we had worked and schools we’d attended and the house we called home. It is all the same, but so different. The huge mountain spruce in the fron yard at 4995 Roosevelt Place, trimmed to above roofline and barely clinging to life now, was once a full, thick, green privacy wall between the house and street. There are pictures there of my brothers in their graduation attire and even my babies running on the lawn from way back when. The juniper has all been removed in favor of more manageable potted flora. The dings Tim and my other brothers put into the side of the house playing baseball in the 70’s are still there, a testament to long summer days spent with a bat and ball in hand.
And we actually were just a few blocks from the Jackson family home in Gary, Indiana, btw!
The streets of Gary used to be positively frightening during business hours, the traffic heavier than the city had prepared for. The business district I used to drive is nearly a ghost town. Boarded up windows and abandoned buildings everywhere, yet minutes away, there are still quiet neighborhoods with established lawns and trees. You can buy a beautiful brick bungalow for $15,000 (the for sale signs made of cardboard and black marker) there on an empty street. The same would cost 1.3 million in Denver.
“Who says you can’t go home again?” ~ Bon Jovi*
Surprisingly, standing there in the old yard, looking at the house in conjunction with neighboring homes and recalling old times and people from the past, it didn’t seem smaller. Often you’ll return to a childhood haunt and you’ll just feel like, “Wow-this seems so small now.” But that wasn’t the case at the Roosevelt Street house, the last home we all shared under one roof, the place my kids remember going to see Grandma and Grandpa Moslander. It really didn’t seem smaller.
It just seemed like: wow-how did this house ever hold all the life and loud love and laughter and memory and family and patio swimming in a 12-foot pool and Uno, all the huge bags full of 19-cent White Castle burgers after church ball games, or Bronco’s Pizza with 5 pounds of melted, dripping, greasy cheese, and church friends and Lake-effect wind and graduations and marriages and teen-agers and letter writing and boyfriends and girlfriends and Lake-effect snow and family altar and family feuds and kids and toys and books and WGN afternoon movies with our first color TV, first jobs and rusted out cars and Tip Top and Bible study and early morning prayer and first grandchildren and the first few spouses and all the rest of living that the Moslander family brought to it?
How on earth did this modest house on this unicorporated county street handle all that?
And it yet stands as a testament.
The Moslanders were here June 1977 – Spring 1990. And again in June 27, 2011. We were here.
In 3 months (the less-than-90 days between March 23 and June 19), we’ve had Dave-the-husband’s birthday, Amelie’s first birthday, Stormie’s quarter-of-a-century birthday (plus moving her into her first house-she is a homeowner!!), Tara’s super-early-30sbirthday and Mother’s Day. We had Stephanie’s birthday, Gemma’s birthday followed closely by Gavin’s lava’d birthday, Guini and Hunter’s Kindergarten graduations, Wrex’s birthday, Tredessa (28) and DP’s (30th) birthdays and Father’s Day. There have been 2 major Heaven Fest dinners and a couple of big-HF-family-meetings with all the trimmings and even Luka had a bday
Recently::
Gavin’s Volcano “cake” at his breakfast party
The first grandson turned 8 and we all gathered for a happy-Saturday-morning breakfast-party. I used strawberry Jello for the “lava,” but even though in the trial run the actual liquid didn’t ooze out, but rather just red Jello-bubbles travelled slowly over the sides, no one wanted me to put more Jello in, afraid the donuts would be drenched in it, ruined for consumption. PLUS my dry ice melted down to 2 tiny slivers overnight. Guess I need a lesson in dry ice!!? Gav and I will have to try it again sometimes when there is no Jello-sogginess-concern. With LOTS of dry ice. A red explosion!!
Gavin’s dinosaur cake when he turned 4, I think, was sort of the beginning of my “cake adventures.” He keeps making life fun. Love that boy!
DP turned the big 3-0
Wrote about his birthday:: H E R E. We did a double-celebration for him and Tredessa with a big Rhoades-family-Mexican meal. Cilantro rice and carne-asada steak tacos plus pulled pork green chile tacos and all the things that go with those. Dave wanted strawberry shortcake for his birthday. Tredessa had Lazy Peach Dessert (see below) for hers. Naturally Wrex performed a song for Dave and noted all his “famous” phraseologies (i.e. o-my-hinkin’-harry, bro-ham-and-cheese, etc) and even mentioned his penchant for v-neck tees. Stef is a master lyricist! Dave got the blessings and encouragements from the fam and Tara played him a most appropriate Brad Paisley song, “It Did.” [see here]
Tredessa was serenaded by her lover-boy for her birthday
And she had a lovely birthday with him. I wrote her b-day blog:: H E R E.Then the double-celebration with DP. She got a song from Wrex and it was a little on the ornery side, which Wrex believes brothers should do. It was hilarious. It fit right into the tune of “Take Me Home, Country Rhoades,” if you can imagine. She is an amazing woman and in love, which we like.
Lazy Peach Dessert by Jane Hagelstein
From the October 1988 issue of Family Ties (the monthly newsletter of New Life Church of God in Norfolk, NE). But I actually have the handwritten recipe card Jane wrote it on. Beloved and quite in shambles.
My best advice for this in Colorado: wait until the western slope peaches are ripe and juicy and cause you car to drive itself to a roadside market where the scent and taste literally scream: DELICIOUS! Yeah. They just aren’t quite right, yet, these California peaches. Huh-uh. Nope.
Shortbread crust:
Combine 1 cup oleo*
1 3/4 cups flour
2 tablespoons sugar
dash of salt
Lightly pat into glass cake pan (if you push it in hard, it will be tougher and less light and pastry-ish and amazingly wonderful). Bake it for 15-18 minutes in a 350-degree oven. Cool.
Peach sauce topping:
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
2 tablespoons corn starch
2 3 oz packages peach Jello
1 tablespoon oleo*
In a saucepan, blend and cook water, sugar and cornstarch until thickened and clear. remove from heat. Stir in Jello and oleo until dissolved. Cool.
Assemble
Slice or chop 7-8 ripe peaches (sometimes I make them all beautiful and perfectly uniform. Unless they aren’t great peaches anyway…like this batch). Distribute over the top of the crust. Pour over the sauce. Put in the fridge for at least 2 hours (overnight is best). Cut into 12 servings. Top with whipped cream.
You may also make this dessert with canned peaches, Jane Hagelstien noted (so Nebraska) or use fresh strawberries and strawberry Jello.
*Oleo, for my dear children, was another name for “margarine” back in the day. Just use REAL butter instead and all will be well!
WREX had a birthday, too.
Complete wih a custom song for him by Dave and the girls to the “Wolfcreek Pass” soundtrack. Love this guy. There is not a more genuine, giving and generous man than Wrex. His parents did a great job, but if he were ever in the market for new parents, we’d apply for the job. He is just a cool guy. That is why God blessed him with the gorgeous Stefane and the two of them with the loveable kiss-kiss, Princess Sawyer. LOVE them all!
Dave’s Father’s Day Worship set
Dave chose his fav worship songs. We sang along to guitar accompaniment, all the current favs, but it morphed in to pulling out all those old songs from the years the kids were growing up. Pretty hilarious. Songs you never really want to sing ever agin, but in this context were pretty fun. “Lord, I lift Your name on high. I’m so glad to sing your praises…” Haha.
Artwork by the grandbebes, found the next morning. Mixed media:: chalk and stickers on concrete. Intrigued by the block that say, “Aim for the head,” and the stick figure identified as “dad,” albeit backwards, with a huge bunch of snot coming out of his nose. Haha.
& E t c . . .
NEXT UP: Summer starts June 21! Today! YEAH!!
Time to relax a bit with some lollygagging in the garden and floating in the pool and you know, a little thing called Heaven Fest. www.heavenfest.com
Both driven and bossy {but vulnerable and deeply sincere},
Choleric, melancholoy, always right and no fear
(at least not that we’ll let you see,
we puff and get growleeeeeeeey —–)
I got the rougher part of him, but also the best.
And I’m looking forward to all the rest
Of time, and love and laughter and lots more years with my dad.
A few years ago I asked my dad to write me a book about himself. Because it explains so much about me and helps me really see him for who he is and who he was meant to be and all he has accomplished and all he is still working hard to do. And I knew parts of it were difficult for him to reveal and I knew it was a risk for him to share because I can be judgemental. But my admiration for him runs so deep it hurts. My love for him just keeps increasing, year after year, season after season. As a little girl, I was always proud of him, proud to say he was my dad, and I was a little in awe of him and sometimes, really, kind of afraid of him. He was, after all, quite strong and powerful.
Young married (1957) to young pastor (1968)
What a surprise, when he wrote in the book he brought me, to find out he had fears that he’d worked hard to conquer. I didn’t think he was afraid of anything. How insightful to know there had been very hard times he’d lived through, things he’d never mentioned, that made my heart go out to the little boy I never knew. And how expected and natural the stories of God’s faithfulness, because that is the life he’d lived since 15 years old, and that deep consecration and devotion to God, I knew full well.
I consider the letters and cards he sends me these days, the quick calls from his cell and the book he wrote, love letters. From my dad to me. Messages that tie our hearts together, tied in a ribbon of remembrance. Treasure for a rainy day.
In my whole life, I have never wanted anyone else to be my dad. He is the one God knew I needed and he will ever and always have my heart.
They have a good dad. A great dad, actually. He has always given his life for them. He’d die for them. But more importantly, he lives for them. He loves them and prays his head off for them. He blesses them with his words and by his actions. He is energized by the house-full of them. And his love for their children? Has multiplied.
When he proposed to me, his first consideration seemed to be that he wanted me to “be the mother” of his children. I realize more than ever, what an honor I was being offered. Because this man? Loves his kids. He doesn’t coddle them and has never just wanted them “to be happy.” He has wanted so much more – they need to be living up to their full I-was-created-for-this potential. That is love.
Happy Father’s Day, babe, and to Tristan, Dave & Rocky, too!
Pictured: Dave with Rocky & Jovan; Dave & Tara; Stephanie & Tristan; Tredessa; Stormie
