Today is an anniversary of the 1789 mutiny aboard the HMS Bounty, that could be it. Also, we are in the midst of April's deluge, going on now for several days. That, too, may explain it. Whatever the reason, Kara decided to play with a ladies' razor last night during her bath.
Joanna was the first one to discover it. Kara was splashing around, and she went up to make sure water wouldn't be spilling down the stairs anytime soon. The resulting conversation, which included "Don't tell Mommy," and, "I don't think this is something that can stay just between us," brought both Lynn-nore and I running. Oh my gosh!!! A razor!!! In the bath!! With my daughter!!! (It took me an hour to calm down.)
Lucky for everyone, razors are made to frustrate the troubled (and the ignorant.) Kara did manage to put a deep cut in one of her fingers and shallow ones in two others. But her hands were so waterlogged that the wound was not bleeding, even after we cleaned and bandanged it. They were beginning to sting as she went to bed, and will probably trouble her all day today. We took away some priviledges, just to be consistent, and prayed about it with Kara. She'll be telling this story when she's older, that's for sure.
Did I mention, too, that Kara was up every 2-hours last night? All of us were dragging this morning. I did put 580 words down last night, though, so am feeling good about that today.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Kara and the "Garden" she and Joanna built. Joanna arranged a square of drift wood and Kara "planted" sticks for flowers. On our hot day at the beach Mommy and Kara walked down to her Beach Garden and the first thing Kara did was "tend" the garden by removing little bits of things that had blown in from this way and that. She was quite proud of her work!
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Solipschtick Take 1
The trees in Ipswich are showing that transparent, yellow-green beloved by Lynn-nore's Mom. I noticed several of them out the window of the breakroom during lunch today. I'd huddled next to a windowsill in order to warm in the incoming sunlight. On my lap, the book-of-the-week, with Eberhard Busch just beginning to lay out an insight into Barth's teaching of human responsibility in the light of grace that very well may update a conundrum faced by John G. and myself that goes back over 15 years! The windowsill was just large enough to serve as a convenient shelf for pen, highlighter and lunch, some of Lynn-nore's shepherd's pie from yesterday evening.
Until this week, my break reading has consisted of a little compendium of Karl Marx: The Communist Manifesto, selections from Das Capital, Engel's English-language tract on socialism etc. It is hard to know what to do with Marx. But, he is at least teaching me one thing: the secret to wealth. As a Wall Street banker said when asked if he'd ever read Marx, "Oh, everyone here reads Marx. He understands capitalism!" The secret is simply this: wherever you can, own a means of production - property, stock, bonds, a business, etc.
This is one of my weaknesses, though. Honestly, I don't get things until they are explained to me on such a fundamental basis! Youth Ministry was awful for this. I spent most of my stint helping Lynn-nore trying to figure out just what the point of it all was. That was me, to cite something else, at pep rally's trying to figure out why everyone is getting so excited over something which resets every year and doesn't really *do* anything. I remember clearly Wes and I resolving to really "get into" a pep rally once and just being totally unable to do it, much to our own dissapointment. I have to have the suppositions down before I can really do or understand nearly everything, and this often causes immense interior and exterior frustration. On the other hand, mastery of anything is about majoring on the fundamentals, right? And don't we live in a world where less smoke and more sober and creative thinking would go a long way? (Ultimately, I determined that youth ministry is actually another word for the dual function of baby sitting those with children and removing children from the sight of those without. Teens scare people and make them uncomfortable. Come youth ministers and take these teens elsewhere! In short, youth ministry does far more harm than good. Teens would be much better served by being integrated into the real body life of the community, taking on responsibilities and learning with and from real adults than in being shunted off into a ghetto until they are old enough.)
Lynn-nore and I attended our fourth (?) session at Beacon on issues in parenting. (I may have referred to this a month ago.) Last night's session was all about discipline and, frankly, it made me think. Want to guess who the parental softy is in our house? This doesn't mean that Lynn-nore and I don't believe the same things - actually, we match up point for point on many goals and values (a real strength of our marriage is that we at least share the fundamentals - it is the communication of our mutual satisfaction with these that trips us up.) Rather, I tend to be a little softer on some things which I probably shouldn't. For example, I give in to the "just one more kiss/hug" lines at bedtime far too often. Whoops, don't you love/hate it when you get to talking about your kid(s) so that you start missing them?
Until this week, my break reading has consisted of a little compendium of Karl Marx: The Communist Manifesto, selections from Das Capital, Engel's English-language tract on socialism etc. It is hard to know what to do with Marx. But, he is at least teaching me one thing: the secret to wealth. As a Wall Street banker said when asked if he'd ever read Marx, "Oh, everyone here reads Marx. He understands capitalism!" The secret is simply this: wherever you can, own a means of production - property, stock, bonds, a business, etc.
This is one of my weaknesses, though. Honestly, I don't get things until they are explained to me on such a fundamental basis! Youth Ministry was awful for this. I spent most of my stint helping Lynn-nore trying to figure out just what the point of it all was. That was me, to cite something else, at pep rally's trying to figure out why everyone is getting so excited over something which resets every year and doesn't really *do* anything. I remember clearly Wes and I resolving to really "get into" a pep rally once and just being totally unable to do it, much to our own dissapointment. I have to have the suppositions down before I can really do or understand nearly everything, and this often causes immense interior and exterior frustration. On the other hand, mastery of anything is about majoring on the fundamentals, right? And don't we live in a world where less smoke and more sober and creative thinking would go a long way? (Ultimately, I determined that youth ministry is actually another word for the dual function of baby sitting those with children and removing children from the sight of those without. Teens scare people and make them uncomfortable. Come youth ministers and take these teens elsewhere! In short, youth ministry does far more harm than good. Teens would be much better served by being integrated into the real body life of the community, taking on responsibilities and learning with and from real adults than in being shunted off into a ghetto until they are old enough.)
Lynn-nore and I attended our fourth (?) session at Beacon on issues in parenting. (I may have referred to this a month ago.) Last night's session was all about discipline and, frankly, it made me think. Want to guess who the parental softy is in our house? This doesn't mean that Lynn-nore and I don't believe the same things - actually, we match up point for point on many goals and values (a real strength of our marriage is that we at least share the fundamentals - it is the communication of our mutual satisfaction with these that trips us up.) Rather, I tend to be a little softer on some things which I probably shouldn't. For example, I give in to the "just one more kiss/hug" lines at bedtime far too often. Whoops, don't you love/hate it when you get to talking about your kid(s) so that you start missing them?
What comes after Z !
So Kara says to me yesterday as we are sitting at the kitchen table and "doing scrapbooking" (her words for the times when I sit and work on some scrapbooking and she cuts paper with fancy scissors and uses stickers and plays with my square hole-punch and chats with Mommy) "I don't want to go back to school tomorrow. I want another stay-at-home day." To which I say, "But Sweetie, you need to go back to school to see what Mrs. Kemmer is going to teach you about this week." To which she replies, "I don't want to." To which I reply, taking a different tactic, "But don't you want to see your friends, Katie, and Andrew, and Josiah will all be there?" Again she declines. We continue this conversation for a few more moments without gaining any real ground. So, a few minutes go by and she pipes up with another question "Mama, why do I have to go back to school?" And I say, becoming very pragmatic about the whole thing, "Because it's a school day." And she says, truly puzzled, "But, Mama, why do I have to go back, we already finished the letter 'Z'." And she's right! The last week before school vacation they finished up the alphabet, clearly summing up all that a "4 1/2 girl" needs to know!! I tried my best to explain that there might be more that Mrs. Kemmer could teach them about other things, and we let it go. A few hours later at dinner we revisited this conversation. Kara jumps in with a brand new thought. "I know what we can learn now," she says. She thinks for a moment and I can see her mouthing the alphabet song as she's thinking. She goes through it twice and then announces, "We can learn about 'now I know my ABC's'." For that's what comes after Z!
Monday, April 25, 2005
Whence the delay?
Wow, I haven't posted on this for almost a week- what's with that? Well, my family. We had a great week together! I took Wednesday off, and we spent the whole day at the beach, joined at lunchtime by SWR & QE. Kara and I lathered on so much sunblock that, despite being in it for 7 hours or so, neither of us burnt (or, in my case, colored) at all! It is a good thing we had so much rain over the last few days, or we would have been out in it again!
As it is, rain allowed time for Lynn-nore to continue making progress in her efforts to change our 2bdrm into room enough for 3. Caleb is only getting larger, 2lbs now, and he's going to demand some space when he arrives! A few months ago, she fussed and measured everything out, and came up with a design that not only made room but improved every room in the process. This last weekend, the bedroom and the basement received the lion's share of attention. I'm quite blessed to have such an industrious and thrifty wife (and one who overlooks my protestations about carrying things to the basement at 9pm on a Sunday evening.)
Kara is preparing for something of another sort. A week from today, the Boston Lyric Opera is putting on a 1-hour presentation of Mozart's Magic Flute (De Zauberflöte) designed especially for children. (Mozart is Kara's favorite.) The cost is extremely low for any cultural event: $15 adults, $10 children (where local church performances run $20 for adults!) The opportunity is too great not to go, even if the material would be better appreciated a few years from now, and even if money is already tight. Some things have to be done for the sake of life. Thus, I've been playing the story and music for Kara over the last week. My hope is that if she can recognize the music and knows the general direction of the story that it will make sitting through the performance that much easier. I wasn't sure how effective my passive exposure plan was going until she climbs out from one of her "houses" yesterday and says, "Daddy, is this still the Magic Flute?"
As for me, I have a 1200-word review due by May 1 for Blackwell: Karl Busch's The Great Passion: An Introduction to Karl Barth's Theology (Eerdman's 2004). I'm halfway through the book itself so reading time is paramount over the next few days. But, if you want to know where my brain is increasingly over the next few days, there you go.
Otherwise, I had a chance yesterday to teach James 4:1-10, and, surprise surprise, there is a triune structure to it, bookcased in with an intro and conclusion which presuppose prayer. Despite my clumsiness, I really knew the Spirit was with me as the class was going. It is a good thing to teach the Scripture - not any human performance, but God's effective opportunity.
As it is, rain allowed time for Lynn-nore to continue making progress in her efforts to change our 2bdrm into room enough for 3. Caleb is only getting larger, 2lbs now, and he's going to demand some space when he arrives! A few months ago, she fussed and measured everything out, and came up with a design that not only made room but improved every room in the process. This last weekend, the bedroom and the basement received the lion's share of attention. I'm quite blessed to have such an industrious and thrifty wife (and one who overlooks my protestations about carrying things to the basement at 9pm on a Sunday evening.)
Kara is preparing for something of another sort. A week from today, the Boston Lyric Opera is putting on a 1-hour presentation of Mozart's Magic Flute (De Zauberflöte) designed especially for children. (Mozart is Kara's favorite.) The cost is extremely low for any cultural event: $15 adults, $10 children (where local church performances run $20 for adults!) The opportunity is too great not to go, even if the material would be better appreciated a few years from now, and even if money is already tight. Some things have to be done for the sake of life. Thus, I've been playing the story and music for Kara over the last week. My hope is that if she can recognize the music and knows the general direction of the story that it will make sitting through the performance that much easier. I wasn't sure how effective my passive exposure plan was going until she climbs out from one of her "houses" yesterday and says, "Daddy, is this still the Magic Flute?"
As for me, I have a 1200-word review due by May 1 for Blackwell: Karl Busch's The Great Passion: An Introduction to Karl Barth's Theology (Eerdman's 2004). I'm halfway through the book itself so reading time is paramount over the next few days. But, if you want to know where my brain is increasingly over the next few days, there you go.
Otherwise, I had a chance yesterday to teach James 4:1-10, and, surprise surprise, there is a triune structure to it, bookcased in with an intro and conclusion which presuppose prayer. Despite my clumsiness, I really knew the Spirit was with me as the class was going. It is a good thing to teach the Scripture - not any human performance, but God's effective opportunity.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
A perfect three days
A perfect three days, that's what this weekend was. EBSCO gave its employees Monday off, simultaneous with school vacation (Kara's out of school), thus, from Friday's perspective, what lay ahead was a vacation! God also helped: the weather was beautiful. We went Yard-Sale-ing, picnicing, we ate excellent Japanese food, saw movies, sat out in parks with friends, threw frisbee, and layed on the beach. As Lynn-nore said yesterday, "I'm glad we aren't moving this Summer."
Back to the beach again, yesterday Kara was playing and I got up from the blanket (Lynn-nore was seconds from sleep), to walk with her. She kept talking about "my garden," and, "my bamboo garden that Nanna and I made." The image I had was of a few sticks stuck (no doubt) too close to the water line. Kara was so excited, she insisted on leading, so I followed her padding steps across the wet sand. The breakers were so beautiful yesterday, lifting, first a deep blue, then a jade green, swirling with foam as they swept upon the shore and crested, then a roar as each folded into the whipped cream surf. "C'mon Daddy!" says Kara. She led up and away, rising out of the wet sand, across the rough, and up on the loose beach. Our feet when "Rrrrt - Rrrt - Rrrt" against the sand as we walked. She was moving so fast, I was working just to keep up. "Here it is," she squeals," here is my garden!" I hadn't noticed until we were right on it, but there, opposite the surf and tucked in against the sea wall, was a perfect square of set wooden planks (Joanna must have dragged them over into place), and in their midst a 2' ring of dried sea sticks and grasses poking up out of the sand to make a miniature forest. Kara was very excited to show it to me, and I bragged about it and fussed over it. I found an unusually shaped, hand-length strip of pine and ceremonially added it to her collection. Kara sat cross legged next to her garden, in a corner of the marked out square, and began to lecture me on the qualities of bamboo. "Daddy," she says, "do you know what color bamboo is?" "Yellow," I said. "No, Bamboo is green." she answered, beginning to fold several lengths of stiff sea grass in her hands. "Kara," I said, "Do you know what animal loves bamboo?....Panda Bears." "Really?" she said, very interested in this news. "Then I am Snow White and you are a Panda Bear." I was a Panda Bear for the rest of the day.
Kara read recently of the incident in which Jesus is confronted by the demon-possessed wild man at the tombs and Jesus sends the demons inside him into a herd of pigs. This, combined with several other references, including the line in the Lord's Prayer: "deliver us from the evil one." All have combined to make Satan and his minions a big topic in Kara's nightly routine. "How did the wild man get demons in him?" was last night's question. "Did I ever have demons in me?" Honestly, this is an uncomfortable topic. Most of my "work" in Christianity involves digging out from under false ideas and un-critical ways of assuming and projecting things into the Bible and Christian beliefs that aren't there. Therefore, I'm much more interested in a discussion of Luther's discovery of grace than I am in hearing a lecture on demonology. The Scripture isn't really interested in informing us about realms outside our own in any material way. Sure, it may speak figuratively and poetically - but even in those interests, the choice of doing so suggests great hesitancy. The gospels record how Jesus talked a good deal about the Devil and how he drove out any number of demons, but they only do so to underscore their claim that the King has come, he is overthrowing his enemies and establishing his Kingdom. In other words, it is about Jesus not about the devils. Trying to bring this around, what this means is that I can't say I'm completely comfortable talking about this with Kara. The point is not to fill the world with devils, but to realize who we are as heirs of the True Heir. I don't want to conjure up a world for her that sounds more like childhood fantasy (and therefore something to be put aside) as she grows into adulthood. We have enough time with our own flesh, truly, with its unhealthy, self-destructive and selfish desires. This is the arena of my interest, perhaps one day I'll arrive at the point where demonology is relevant to my experience, but I suspect in no time soon.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
you're just a homeowner with a low mortgage
I started working on a third book review last night. It is another introduction to Karl Barth, but this time the scope is much larger than the Church Dogmatics. The prose is so stylish it nearly approaches a belles lettres, and betrays Eberhard Busch as a master of his subject. I'm not really sure what the next writing project will be. It would be nice to get paid for something. Maybe I will approach Barnes & Noble again and see if they have anything, or maybe it is time to branch out a little further.
Kara has a new car! Yes, a lovely, hand-crafted model with real Elmer's glue trim and a cardboard frame just big enough for one. I think it resembles a classic Audi in design, with bits of yarn thrown in for sport. I hope that we will be able to post a photo of Kara with her new C-Box coupe.
Lynn-nore's parents were talking about moving up here again last night. Just remember, everywhere else if you win a million dollars, you are a millionaire. Up here, if you win a million, you're just a homeowner with a low mortgage. Why not open a decent bookshop in Germany (they could sure use one, given how hard it was to find anything descent when we were there)? It could be a family business!
Kara has a new car! Yes, a lovely, hand-crafted model with real Elmer's glue trim and a cardboard frame just big enough for one. I think it resembles a classic Audi in design, with bits of yarn thrown in for sport. I hope that we will be able to post a photo of Kara with her new C-Box coupe.
Lynn-nore's parents were talking about moving up here again last night. Just remember, everywhere else if you win a million dollars, you are a millionaire. Up here, if you win a million, you're just a homeowner with a low mortgage. Why not open a decent bookshop in Germany (they could sure use one, given how hard it was to find anything descent when we were there)? It could be a family business!
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Kara fell out of bed
Kara finally did it last night. At 3:30am, I'm awakened by cries of "Help! Help!" Rushing in to Kara's room, I discover her. She hasn't actually fallen but, due to the tightness of her sheet, is actually suspended against the side of her mattress. She's honestly more startled than hurt, and quickly goes back to sleep.
Earlier, at 1:30am, she woke up having a bad dream about being bitten by an alligator. I sat with her and stroked her hair and we prayed until she could go back to sleep again. All in all, a much-interrupted evening.
Lynn-nore and I are still raking in the benefits of the marriage conference this last weekend. The conference was an outreach of Family Life Ministries. It was a very valuable experience. All range of couples were there, from newlyweds to grey-heads. The best part about it was getting to spend so much focused time with Lynn-nore. It really felt like a second honeymoon! We have had our rough patches, it is true, but neither of us believe those will ultimately define our life together. The conference gave us a vocabulary of concepts and ideas which we have already begun putting in place. I would highly recommend any couple attending one of these Family Life weekends.
Earlier, at 1:30am, she woke up having a bad dream about being bitten by an alligator. I sat with her and stroked her hair and we prayed until she could go back to sleep again. All in all, a much-interrupted evening.
Lynn-nore and I are still raking in the benefits of the marriage conference this last weekend. The conference was an outreach of Family Life Ministries. It was a very valuable experience. All range of couples were there, from newlyweds to grey-heads. The best part about it was getting to spend so much focused time with Lynn-nore. It really felt like a second honeymoon! We have had our rough patches, it is true, but neither of us believe those will ultimately define our life together. The conference gave us a vocabulary of concepts and ideas which we have already begun putting in place. I would highly recommend any couple attending one of these Family Life weekends.
Monday, April 11, 2005
34 @ April 11
April 11 is a rough day. It is Tabitha's birthday. She is (or might be) 34 today. I never expect it to be hard, but it is. And there is no remedy, save just living through it until it recedes into forgetting for another few hundred days.
Friday, April 08, 2005
I don't know - ask God
Lynn-nore will tell you (I hear Amen's from many others) that I find it very hard to focus on more than a handful of things at once. The number may be as high as five, but I suspect it may hover around 3, growing less as one of those becomes more demanding or complex. Yet, as so many of you have reminded me, usually through your patient but self-evident frustration at what probably appears to you as "procrastination" (which it usually is not), life is infinitely more complex than that. Believe me, I know.
The blind know that the color green exists. The lame know that others walk. We know, today, that there are cities of teeming thousands sharing the planet with us right now which we will never visit or even hear about. And, sometimes, we are aware of this, aren't we? We step outside of our experience and are aware of other, larger experiences; we are just human beings, after all, and finite. Moments like this, illuminative moments, always give me a weird feeling, like the moment of weightlessness before falling. I had just such an experience in the last 12 hours.
Last night, laying down to go to bed, Lynn-nore twining her fingers into mine, that feeling just swept over me. I felt absolutely alone, held against some infinite space only by her fingers. I used to get this way when I was a kid, and then, later, in college (college was a period of daily buffeting by this feeling). It is a sudden loss of meaning; like that woman who lost one of her talents. The usual solution in such cases is prayer - there is no space, even the empty space of existence, that is not full-up with God. "What is man that you are mindful of him?"
Then, this morning, I was getting up, sitting there on the side of the bed, late in awaking, trying to remember what day it was. Lynn-nore woke up and said, groggily, "I was having this awful dream that we were fighting." And, as if in protest, she says, "I love you," and then goes back to sleep. I turned back to contemplate rising, but in my mind I was thinking, "I am here now, I was in that existential space, and just a moment ago, as I was waking, there was a *me* fighting with Lynn-nore in her dream."
Work is the public face. You do what you do, drive, park, find food, find tasks. There isn't anything deeper than silicon here. Pour a million meetings into a day, and you haven't talked to a single human being, or even said anything worth remembering. Then you drive home, and there are the tasks of "the workday evening." Even Kara doesn't say anything, except at night when she's about to go to sleep.
The other night I had tucked her in was getting ready to leave when she starts talking, in a clear, non-loopy, focused way, about what had happened that day at school. I was surprised that the giddy, unreachably tired child of seconds before had suddenly changed over, and so I sat down on the foot of her bed and listened as she talked with me. Not about tasks, but about life.
[One more paragraph.] This weeekend, Lynn-nore and I are going to a fairly dense weekend marriage seminar. Every couple that we know who has gone just raves about it, and the Lord has made it possible for us to go. There is the technical details of getting there, of wearing, eating, introducing, note-taking. But I'm expecting that we will have moments - 15 minute breakouts or something - where suddenly it is like, "What is your deepest experience of love...think quickly now." Can I even do this? Can I leap out, dive down, and come up again...who the heck is this, existing in that void, in that dream, teetering on that bed, working this job, fathering (and just being a fellow human being) to this child? Can we even say what our deepest anything is? Do we know anything authentic, or do we only know in hindsight? Have we ever stopped long enough to become aware enough to even say?
As I said above, I find it hard to focus on many things at once. Most things are just tasks, but these leave scarce time for real being. If one never sees oneself, or only as it is convenient to do so, or only just before sleeping, or in snatches with one's child, how can we know? What is your deepest experience? How do you know authentically anything? Would you even recognize anything if you had it? What if you had something but forgot it, or if you might have something, but you aren't sure? Isn't it true, really, that we don't know anything and would be lost in that void, falling forever, if it wasn't that God knows us?
We will never really know. Instead, we must take ourselves from the point of being known.
You have made them a little lower than God;
You have crowned them with glory and honor;
You have given them dominion -
O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
The blind know that the color green exists. The lame know that others walk. We know, today, that there are cities of teeming thousands sharing the planet with us right now which we will never visit or even hear about. And, sometimes, we are aware of this, aren't we? We step outside of our experience and are aware of other, larger experiences; we are just human beings, after all, and finite. Moments like this, illuminative moments, always give me a weird feeling, like the moment of weightlessness before falling. I had just such an experience in the last 12 hours.
Last night, laying down to go to bed, Lynn-nore twining her fingers into mine, that feeling just swept over me. I felt absolutely alone, held against some infinite space only by her fingers. I used to get this way when I was a kid, and then, later, in college (college was a period of daily buffeting by this feeling). It is a sudden loss of meaning; like that woman who lost one of her talents. The usual solution in such cases is prayer - there is no space, even the empty space of existence, that is not full-up with God. "What is man that you are mindful of him?"
Then, this morning, I was getting up, sitting there on the side of the bed, late in awaking, trying to remember what day it was. Lynn-nore woke up and said, groggily, "I was having this awful dream that we were fighting." And, as if in protest, she says, "I love you," and then goes back to sleep. I turned back to contemplate rising, but in my mind I was thinking, "I am here now, I was in that existential space, and just a moment ago, as I was waking, there was a *me* fighting with Lynn-nore in her dream."
Work is the public face. You do what you do, drive, park, find food, find tasks. There isn't anything deeper than silicon here. Pour a million meetings into a day, and you haven't talked to a single human being, or even said anything worth remembering. Then you drive home, and there are the tasks of "the workday evening." Even Kara doesn't say anything, except at night when she's about to go to sleep.
The other night I had tucked her in was getting ready to leave when she starts talking, in a clear, non-loopy, focused way, about what had happened that day at school. I was surprised that the giddy, unreachably tired child of seconds before had suddenly changed over, and so I sat down on the foot of her bed and listened as she talked with me. Not about tasks, but about life.
[One more paragraph.] This weeekend, Lynn-nore and I are going to a fairly dense weekend marriage seminar. Every couple that we know who has gone just raves about it, and the Lord has made it possible for us to go. There is the technical details of getting there, of wearing, eating, introducing, note-taking. But I'm expecting that we will have moments - 15 minute breakouts or something - where suddenly it is like, "What is your deepest experience of love...think quickly now." Can I even do this? Can I leap out, dive down, and come up again...who the heck is this, existing in that void, in that dream, teetering on that bed, working this job, fathering (and just being a fellow human being) to this child? Can we even say what our deepest anything is? Do we know anything authentic, or do we only know in hindsight? Have we ever stopped long enough to become aware enough to even say?
As I said above, I find it hard to focus on many things at once. Most things are just tasks, but these leave scarce time for real being. If one never sees oneself, or only as it is convenient to do so, or only just before sleeping, or in snatches with one's child, how can we know? What is your deepest experience? How do you know authentically anything? Would you even recognize anything if you had it? What if you had something but forgot it, or if you might have something, but you aren't sure? Isn't it true, really, that we don't know anything and would be lost in that void, falling forever, if it wasn't that God knows us?
We will never really know. Instead, we must take ourselves from the point of being known.
You have made them a little lower than God;
You have crowned them with glory and honor;
You have given them dominion -
O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
Thursday, April 07, 2005
on baptizing infants
Last night, I had the opportunity to attend a lecture delivered by Dr. Anthony Lane, Professor of Historical Theology at the London School of Theology. His topic was, "Should we Baptize Babies? A Study of Early Church Practices?"
The substance of his talk boiled down to two main points:
After the lecture, Lynn-nore, Joanna and I sat around in the living room and discussed it for over an hour. All three of us agree both that Kara displays the outward signs of a regeneration, and that no church we're aware of would either baptize her or allow her to take communion. As a result, every door of the Christian faith has been open to her, every question answered until now, and the only reason is tradition.
The substance of his talk boiled down to two main points:
- The New Testament does not separate the experience of justification and the act of baptism in any way. Indeed, so closely intertwined are these concepts that they sometimes refer to someone's salvation as their "baptism" and vice versa, without even a tip of the hat to the waiting and watching for "internalization" of religious faith with such as we are familiar.
- The best and earliest resources that we have on the subject of baptism suggest that variety was the name of the game. Some families/churches/geographical regions baptized their infants, others waited until their children were 8 days, 3 years, teens. young adults or even urged (in the context where baptism began to be understood more along Roman Catholic lines) their children & others to wait until a point as near death as possible. What was important was baptism. The age of the baptizee, evidences of regeneration, or other factors could be emphasized or deemphasized - no one really cared one way or the other.
After the lecture, Lynn-nore, Joanna and I sat around in the living room and discussed it for over an hour. All three of us agree both that Kara displays the outward signs of a regeneration, and that no church we're aware of would either baptize her or allow her to take communion. As a result, every door of the Christian faith has been open to her, every question answered until now, and the only reason is tradition.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
They haven't sent it back yet
My post-submission anxiety always waits for that, "What kind of junk is this?" email to arrive after sending off a review. In this case, the 3,000 word "review essay" went off Monday evening for publication. One more to go, this time a return to Karl Barth, and a return to the intimacy of only 1,200 words.
Of course, if you think that paragraph was boring, imagine if that's all that was flowing around in your brain. Period. This has been me for about five days. (You'll notice I haven't posted much recently.) Compared with the adventures of Lynn-nore and Kara, I'm a mono-syllabic drone.
Those two have been having fun together over the last week. Yesterday is a good example. After having lunch with me in Ipswich yesterday (an extreme rarity, and always nice), the two of them went to the beach. It was a beautiful, sunny day yesterday, and I suspect there some barefeet on the sand while they were there. After that, they worked on clearing the patch of ground in front of the apartment. Kara was so tired last night, she could barely keep herself awake long enough to be grumpy and disobedient.
One interesting thing coming up. There's a prof from the London School of Theology speaking at the sem tonight on paedobaptism and the early church. I'm looking forward to basking in the glow of academic discourse for an hour.
Of course, if you think that paragraph was boring, imagine if that's all that was flowing around in your brain. Period. This has been me for about five days. (You'll notice I haven't posted much recently.) Compared with the adventures of Lynn-nore and Kara, I'm a mono-syllabic drone.
Those two have been having fun together over the last week. Yesterday is a good example. After having lunch with me in Ipswich yesterday (an extreme rarity, and always nice), the two of them went to the beach. It was a beautiful, sunny day yesterday, and I suspect there some barefeet on the sand while they were there. After that, they worked on clearing the patch of ground in front of the apartment. Kara was so tired last night, she could barely keep herself awake long enough to be grumpy and disobedient.
One interesting thing coming up. There's a prof from the London School of Theology speaking at the sem tonight on paedobaptism and the early church. I'm looking forward to basking in the glow of academic discourse for an hour.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Not Your Average Tuesday
So, the day started normal enough for a school morning, except at quarter of seven Kara still wasn't up. So, I went in to wake her, which was going well enough, until we discovered that her eyes were gooped shut. I'll spare you all the gory details, but suffice to say, it turned out not to be a school morning after all and instead Kara wins a trip to the doctor's office! Her school requires 24 hrs on antibiotics for Pink Eye - so here we go to get those meds. She's in good spirits otherwise, now if we could just convince her not to touch her eyes! Ah, the joys of parenthood.
Caleb seems to be doing well. He thumps and jumps all the time now, and just like Kara, seems to get the hiccups about once a day. Unlike Kara, who kept her hiccups to a modest and rythmic hump, thump, thump, he seems to get his whole body involved. Imagine you have the hiccups and your arms and legs just can't help but jump in on it. So instead of one little thump, I get five thumps in five different places. It's actually pretty cute :-) When he's not hiccuping he seems to be exploring his territory as in "What if I kick Mommy, here? Hhhmm. How about over here? How about here?" Kara seemed much more inclined to pick a spot and stick with it, while this little guy wants to make sure he's covered all the bases (that's it, he's playing Baseball in there! Go Red Sox!).
Here's a blast from the past, how about an update on my Pampered Chef business! It has been a long time since I had a good run of things with my business, since sometime last summer it seems. Throughout the rough spots I have managed to hold onto my position as a director, though my team has struggled quite a bit. It seems that last summer and Fall planning and executing the 40 Days of Purpose program seemed to squeeze out the time I would have ordinarily devoted to my business. This was not the wisest choice in the long run in terms of the bottom line, but I feel that things are finally picking up in that department again. Of course, after 40 Days I was in my first trimester and feeling sick all the time and then promptly had to be careful because of the pre-term labor problems. But, God is gracious and merciful and has at least sustained my position as director. It seems that every month that it has been truly on the line, the numbers have come in to make ends meet for my team, at least. A month or so ago I sent around an email update on new products and promotions and from that got a couple of leads for shows and orders. One of those was from the owner of the Curves gym in Peabody asking me if I'd like to come and set up a table at her gym to collect orders. I followed through with this and spent a couple of hours there yesterday which turned out to be very profitable. She is very excited about the product line and it was a very low-impact way for me to make some profit ~ a big success with very little difficulty on my part. At the beginning of March I also participated in an open house with a couple of other women who run home businesses ~ a Creative Memories consultant and another mom from Kara's class who makes and sells jewelry. From that endeavor I got a catalog show and a new recruit, always a big plus! So, all in all, things are picking up and I can foresee making it through the pregnancy to a place where I can build my business back to where I mean it to be. Just thought you all might enjoy the business update, as it hasn't been mentioned much lately.
Well, speaking of business and sick children ~ I need to run more catalogs out to Peabody to the woman at Curves and then get Kara over to the doctor's office, so I must close for now.
Be expecting Princess Kara pictures on the blog soon! I made her a princess costume last Thursday, per her request and, of course, had to take some pictures!
Make it a great day!
Caleb seems to be doing well. He thumps and jumps all the time now, and just like Kara, seems to get the hiccups about once a day. Unlike Kara, who kept her hiccups to a modest and rythmic hump, thump, thump, he seems to get his whole body involved. Imagine you have the hiccups and your arms and legs just can't help but jump in on it. So instead of one little thump, I get five thumps in five different places. It's actually pretty cute :-) When he's not hiccuping he seems to be exploring his territory as in "What if I kick Mommy, here? Hhhmm. How about over here? How about here?" Kara seemed much more inclined to pick a spot and stick with it, while this little guy wants to make sure he's covered all the bases (that's it, he's playing Baseball in there! Go Red Sox!).
Here's a blast from the past, how about an update on my Pampered Chef business! It has been a long time since I had a good run of things with my business, since sometime last summer it seems. Throughout the rough spots I have managed to hold onto my position as a director, though my team has struggled quite a bit. It seems that last summer and Fall planning and executing the 40 Days of Purpose program seemed to squeeze out the time I would have ordinarily devoted to my business. This was not the wisest choice in the long run in terms of the bottom line, but I feel that things are finally picking up in that department again. Of course, after 40 Days I was in my first trimester and feeling sick all the time and then promptly had to be careful because of the pre-term labor problems. But, God is gracious and merciful and has at least sustained my position as director. It seems that every month that it has been truly on the line, the numbers have come in to make ends meet for my team, at least. A month or so ago I sent around an email update on new products and promotions and from that got a couple of leads for shows and orders. One of those was from the owner of the Curves gym in Peabody asking me if I'd like to come and set up a table at her gym to collect orders. I followed through with this and spent a couple of hours there yesterday which turned out to be very profitable. She is very excited about the product line and it was a very low-impact way for me to make some profit ~ a big success with very little difficulty on my part. At the beginning of March I also participated in an open house with a couple of other women who run home businesses ~ a Creative Memories consultant and another mom from Kara's class who makes and sells jewelry. From that endeavor I got a catalog show and a new recruit, always a big plus! So, all in all, things are picking up and I can foresee making it through the pregnancy to a place where I can build my business back to where I mean it to be. Just thought you all might enjoy the business update, as it hasn't been mentioned much lately.
Well, speaking of business and sick children ~ I need to run more catalogs out to Peabody to the woman at Curves and then get Kara over to the doctor's office, so I must close for now.
Be expecting Princess Kara pictures on the blog soon! I made her a princess costume last Thursday, per her request and, of course, had to take some pictures!
Make it a great day!
Friday, April 01, 2005
Definitely coming down with something
Yep, I'm definitely coming down with something. Kara, too, seems to have picked something up, from school probably. She was coughing enough last night to warrant some medicine. Never adept at waking up quickly, she cried for at least 15 minutes until coming to enough to gulp down a dose.
The weekend looks pretty good. Despite rain scheduled for Saturday, Lynn-nore has invited Sir W. Raleigh & QE over this evening. I'm picking up the pen tomorrow morning and knocking 3,000 words out. Shouldn't take more than a few hours.
I noticed this morning that the New York Times magazine has an interesting article about the mega-church movement. It is very plain, having done a good bit of reading in the adjustments in public attitudes toward religious faith in the last 200 years, that the state of the modern church in the west is largely reactive and still reeling from deep-seated cultural and intellectual attacks leveled against it over this entire period. The symptoms of the "blighted church" are easy to spot, and are rampant and suffocating in every community I've ever been a part of. Simply put, this sickness manifests itself in the question, "What is our purpose?" And are only mistreated by church growth initiatives.
The problem with the western church is so deep-seated, so rooted in the makeup of our very life-assumptions, that it would really be impossible to fix them without accepting radical change. As John G. said the other night, community, as the human species has always understood and known it, is no more. We simply do not know what we are saying any longer, and cannot accept, by stint of our own cultural desires and the constructions of identity and personhood that have been built into the west since the Enlightenment, a re-discovery.
Some will say that the growing emergent church movement (cf. Anna Aven on this movement which is an outpost to the larger web conversation) proves me wrong on this. Some of these churches represent semi-radical attempts to strike out in bold new directions, that is true. But they are not addressing the problem on a definitional level, and, in my opinion, are more a manifestation of discontent than a well-informed solution. The Jesus movement of the 1970's, an outgrowth of the secular hippie movement, was "emergent" (and far more radical) long before these largely 20-something churches. That move us gave us Christian industries, and a more powerful political voice, but it has not helped the churches. The definitions of religious community, language and expression are still nostaligic, and largely culturally isolated, throwbacks.
btw. Anna defines the Emerging Church as:
The weekend looks pretty good. Despite rain scheduled for Saturday, Lynn-nore has invited Sir W. Raleigh & QE over this evening. I'm picking up the pen tomorrow morning and knocking 3,000 words out. Shouldn't take more than a few hours.
I noticed this morning that the New York Times magazine has an interesting article about the mega-church movement. It is very plain, having done a good bit of reading in the adjustments in public attitudes toward religious faith in the last 200 years, that the state of the modern church in the west is largely reactive and still reeling from deep-seated cultural and intellectual attacks leveled against it over this entire period. The symptoms of the "blighted church" are easy to spot, and are rampant and suffocating in every community I've ever been a part of. Simply put, this sickness manifests itself in the question, "What is our purpose?" And are only mistreated by church growth initiatives.
The problem with the western church is so deep-seated, so rooted in the makeup of our very life-assumptions, that it would really be impossible to fix them without accepting radical change. As John G. said the other night, community, as the human species has always understood and known it, is no more. We simply do not know what we are saying any longer, and cannot accept, by stint of our own cultural desires and the constructions of identity and personhood that have been built into the west since the Enlightenment, a re-discovery.
Some will say that the growing emergent church movement (cf. Anna Aven on this movement which is an outpost to the larger web conversation) proves me wrong on this. Some of these churches represent semi-radical attempts to strike out in bold new directions, that is true. But they are not addressing the problem on a definitional level, and, in my opinion, are more a manifestation of discontent than a well-informed solution. The Jesus movement of the 1970's, an outgrowth of the secular hippie movement, was "emergent" (and far more radical) long before these largely 20-something churches. That move us gave us Christian industries, and a more powerful political voice, but it has not helped the churches. The definitions of religious community, language and expression are still nostaligic, and largely culturally isolated, throwbacks.
btw. Anna defines the Emerging Church as:
The Emerging Church (EC) is a movement throughout the English-speaking world that is in part a response to postmodernity and in part a reaction to church as we know it, which is also called the institutional church. There are some unifying factors to the movement as near as I can tell, namely some concept of “ancient-future” worship, a deconstruction of liturgy, and a return to a less hierarchical structure of church leadership in order to have more people more involved as in the days of the early church.
Sleeping the big sleep
I was so tired last night, that I went to bed at 9:30 and slept soundly until 6:30 this morning. 9.5 hours of sleep; I can't remember the last time I had much more than 6. Of course, this means that I didn't finish the review last night.
Frankly, it is becoming very difficult for me to write at night. After Kara is in bed, I'm pretty much ready to lay down myself. That's the way it has been for over a month now, and finally, last night, I just gave up and said, "That's it, I'm going to bed." I hope this isn't a trend. It isn't like I can just write in the mornings - the best time of the day. More thought will have to go into this. The review will be done shortly, anyway.
Listening to Ella Fitzgerald on the way in to work this morning. Her voice is so smooth and light; really amazing. The disc I have is a collection of recordings she did of the best songs by American composers. It makes you wonder if *any* songs in the latter-quarter of the 20th century are classics in any sense of the word, or just pop-junk. Bob Dylan and the Beatles are about the only sources I can think of for true time-surviving work. What do you think?
Another goal for the weekend: send out some job applications.
Frankly, it is becoming very difficult for me to write at night. After Kara is in bed, I'm pretty much ready to lay down myself. That's the way it has been for over a month now, and finally, last night, I just gave up and said, "That's it, I'm going to bed." I hope this isn't a trend. It isn't like I can just write in the mornings - the best time of the day. More thought will have to go into this. The review will be done shortly, anyway.
Listening to Ella Fitzgerald on the way in to work this morning. Her voice is so smooth and light; really amazing. The disc I have is a collection of recordings she did of the best songs by American composers. It makes you wonder if *any* songs in the latter-quarter of the 20th century are classics in any sense of the word, or just pop-junk. Bob Dylan and the Beatles are about the only sources I can think of for true time-surviving work. What do you think?
Another goal for the weekend: send out some job applications.
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