We have recently learned of my cousin's immanent departure from this world. If you have been a reader of my whole blog you will know I also just lost my Grandmother in January and my cousin's dad (my uncle) in February. Now Joey will surprise us to make it through the month. Joe is an amazing kid, and I can hardly go into it all here, but suffice it to say that after a terrible childhood landed him in drugs and detention centers, losing his kidneys allowed him to find his God. I am reminded of Solzhenitsyn praising God for the internment camps because it was through that suffering he came to understand and embrace God.
I don't have much time or mental energy left for my full pondering on the matters of death and family. But I read a good blog that I think is worth passing on. And it made me remember a poem I wrote in 9th grade. So I'll share it in honor of Joey and my other family members who have ceased to be.
Untitled:
Everything that lives dies,
Everything that dies lives,
Where we do not know,
How we can't be sure.
But I do know I will die,
And after I will live,
In a place I do not know,
In a way I can't be sure.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
True confessions
Sometimes I feel forever misplaced in every aspect of this world. I don't mean to sound melodramatic or anything. It's just a general feeling. Most of the time it makes me feel like I must be on the right track, "the narrow path", "outside the gate", or something.
If my health choices (though not uncommon in history - certainly uncommon in 21st century America) were not enough to make me look like a hippie (though I am not. I shave my armpits - I think that is definitive), there is also my "anti-social" desire to home school my children, avoid television, and invest in my home and family rather than a social network, gym, club, or career.
Still, most of my friends and extended family will give me this grace as just a part of "kooky Marianne and her efforts to pursue what she thinks is right - albeit she is a strange one sometimes."
But really, I am a Newtonian in an Einstein world. I believe that there are "invisible" forces that govern the universe. I think it makes sense that God created a logical and observable world that some people used to be in tune with using their natural abilities of knowing things rather than some special scientific attempt at certainty and peer accepted journal truth. These tuned people may be called all sorts of weird things by history books, but they were probably just aware that old wives tales start for a reason.
My husbands Aunt showed me how to find water with a willow branch several years ago. It's amazing. You take the branch, with the tapered end in your hand, and slowly walk around waiting for it to move. When it finds water it begins to bob up and down for as many bobs (I think that's the technical term) as the water is deep. Then the branch stops bobbing and starts rocking back and forth for the same number of feet. Thus you know how far to dig to make a well. Crazy huh? For some reason my husband can't do it. I think he might have too much nervous energy running through his body or something. Alene (his aunt) and I can, as can many other people. We're witches I guess.
Really though, there is some kind of special attraction between a willow and water. Their energies resonate. The branch is specially tuned to respond to the specific magnetism of water. I don't really know what it is, I just know it works and thus believe in it as a method of knowing how to find water.
Similarly, several years ago I read about an old Greek method of determining the sex of a child in utero. The grandmother, or some matriarch of the family, usually kept a silver spoon with some thin ribbon for such an occasion. Holding the ribbon tied to the spoon she would dangle it over the expectant mother's belly and wait for the silver to be affected by the magnetism of the child inside (men and women have different magnetism you see, though I don't know if the attuned Greek matriarchs really understood why it works, they just knew they had never been wrong). Magnetism creates a magnetic field, and different magnetism creates different magnetic fields. Thus a silver spoon will react differently over a boy's head than it will over a girl's. For a boy it moves in a pendulum, I think north to south, but I am not positive about that. For a girl, the spoon reacts decidedly differently and moves in an unmistakable circle. This works over the head of any person, not just pregnant bellies.
The effect of being misplaced in a scientific culture, is that there is still a bit of a scientist in little hippie witch me. Heck, I started out as a physics major didn't I? As a result I have had to test this spoon theory on as many people as I can. It has never been wrong, even on "manly" women. And it was right about Søren.
I have seen it work on my own belly when the baby was only 3 weeks old - I mention that because at 3 weeks there are no hormones yet...so this fundamental magnetism is more basic that even our sex hormones, it probably determines our sex hormones.
Now, I am not "committed" to this spoon theory of determining sex. Nor am I 100% certain that it is always right. But, as far as my knowing abilities function, they tell me to go ahead and believe it. So I do. I believe that a silver spoon handled by a "tuned" person, can tell you if you are having a boy or girl (I have no idea what it would do over twins, best of luck if you are having them).
Ah, now here's the rub. I currently have 5 pregnant bellies predicted, mine included. Two of these bellies (mine included) are ultrasound free, so "science" has not weighed in on the matter (both say boy). One of these bellies is too early for the ultrasound to declare anything (spoon says girl). The other two have had their definitive ultrasound pictures and one agrees with me (a girl - she is expected anytime now) and the other one disagrees with me (a boy by the spoon - due in the middle of next month).
So "science" confronts me and tells me I am wrong. Two different ultrasounds at different weeks and both say there is no little wiener. My spoon says boy, clearly boy, on several different occasions at all stages of her pregnancy. The gender magnetism doesn't change.
Unfortunately, I really think this spoon thing is right. Yet, as I attended two showers for this friend announcing "it's a girl" and lavishing adorable little girls clothing and accessories on her, I also would love to hope that my friend is having the girl she wants. It's just that I don't believe it. And here is the horrible truth of the matter. As it stands, I feel more inclined to believe that this baby has some kind of genital abnormality (they are increasing in our day and age - and you probably know that if you were to ask me why, I would tell you it's because of our diets and departure from a traditional way of eating in order to make perfect babies) than that my spoon might be wrong. Horrible of me! This is a dear friend. I certainly don't wish that on them (though really, there are far worse things), and so I hope that my spoon is wrong, or that they were all just seeing (or not seeing) things on a fuzzy two dimensional representation of their unborn child.
Yet, all the while I still believe in the spoon. Call me crazy. Call me a witch. I just think that there are foundational things that govern our universe as determined and overseen by our creator. And I think that there are ways to be in tune with what they are.
So, I write this as a true confession, and to shame myself into throwing away the spoon if this baby really and truly is a girl (there had better be ovaries!).
If my health choices (though not uncommon in history - certainly uncommon in 21st century America) were not enough to make me look like a hippie (though I am not. I shave my armpits - I think that is definitive), there is also my "anti-social" desire to home school my children, avoid television, and invest in my home and family rather than a social network, gym, club, or career.
Still, most of my friends and extended family will give me this grace as just a part of "kooky Marianne and her efforts to pursue what she thinks is right - albeit she is a strange one sometimes."
But really, I am a Newtonian in an Einstein world. I believe that there are "invisible" forces that govern the universe. I think it makes sense that God created a logical and observable world that some people used to be in tune with using their natural abilities of knowing things rather than some special scientific attempt at certainty and peer accepted journal truth. These tuned people may be called all sorts of weird things by history books, but they were probably just aware that old wives tales start for a reason.
My husbands Aunt showed me how to find water with a willow branch several years ago. It's amazing. You take the branch, with the tapered end in your hand, and slowly walk around waiting for it to move. When it finds water it begins to bob up and down for as many bobs (I think that's the technical term) as the water is deep. Then the branch stops bobbing and starts rocking back and forth for the same number of feet. Thus you know how far to dig to make a well. Crazy huh? For some reason my husband can't do it. I think he might have too much nervous energy running through his body or something. Alene (his aunt) and I can, as can many other people. We're witches I guess.
Really though, there is some kind of special attraction between a willow and water. Their energies resonate. The branch is specially tuned to respond to the specific magnetism of water. I don't really know what it is, I just know it works and thus believe in it as a method of knowing how to find water.
Similarly, several years ago I read about an old Greek method of determining the sex of a child in utero. The grandmother, or some matriarch of the family, usually kept a silver spoon with some thin ribbon for such an occasion. Holding the ribbon tied to the spoon she would dangle it over the expectant mother's belly and wait for the silver to be affected by the magnetism of the child inside (men and women have different magnetism you see, though I don't know if the attuned Greek matriarchs really understood why it works, they just knew they had never been wrong). Magnetism creates a magnetic field, and different magnetism creates different magnetic fields. Thus a silver spoon will react differently over a boy's head than it will over a girl's. For a boy it moves in a pendulum, I think north to south, but I am not positive about that. For a girl, the spoon reacts decidedly differently and moves in an unmistakable circle. This works over the head of any person, not just pregnant bellies.
The effect of being misplaced in a scientific culture, is that there is still a bit of a scientist in little hippie witch me. Heck, I started out as a physics major didn't I? As a result I have had to test this spoon theory on as many people as I can. It has never been wrong, even on "manly" women. And it was right about Søren.
I have seen it work on my own belly when the baby was only 3 weeks old - I mention that because at 3 weeks there are no hormones yet...so this fundamental magnetism is more basic that even our sex hormones, it probably determines our sex hormones.
Now, I am not "committed" to this spoon theory of determining sex. Nor am I 100% certain that it is always right. But, as far as my knowing abilities function, they tell me to go ahead and believe it. So I do. I believe that a silver spoon handled by a "tuned" person, can tell you if you are having a boy or girl (I have no idea what it would do over twins, best of luck if you are having them).
Ah, now here's the rub. I currently have 5 pregnant bellies predicted, mine included. Two of these bellies (mine included) are ultrasound free, so "science" has not weighed in on the matter (both say boy). One of these bellies is too early for the ultrasound to declare anything (spoon says girl). The other two have had their definitive ultrasound pictures and one agrees with me (a girl - she is expected anytime now) and the other one disagrees with me (a boy by the spoon - due in the middle of next month).
So "science" confronts me and tells me I am wrong. Two different ultrasounds at different weeks and both say there is no little wiener. My spoon says boy, clearly boy, on several different occasions at all stages of her pregnancy. The gender magnetism doesn't change.
Unfortunately, I really think this spoon thing is right. Yet, as I attended two showers for this friend announcing "it's a girl" and lavishing adorable little girls clothing and accessories on her, I also would love to hope that my friend is having the girl she wants. It's just that I don't believe it. And here is the horrible truth of the matter. As it stands, I feel more inclined to believe that this baby has some kind of genital abnormality (they are increasing in our day and age - and you probably know that if you were to ask me why, I would tell you it's because of our diets and departure from a traditional way of eating in order to make perfect babies) than that my spoon might be wrong. Horrible of me! This is a dear friend. I certainly don't wish that on them (though really, there are far worse things), and so I hope that my spoon is wrong, or that they were all just seeing (or not seeing) things on a fuzzy two dimensional representation of their unborn child.
Yet, all the while I still believe in the spoon. Call me crazy. Call me a witch. I just think that there are foundational things that govern our universe as determined and overseen by our creator. And I think that there are ways to be in tune with what they are.
So, I write this as a true confession, and to shame myself into throwing away the spoon if this baby really and truly is a girl (there had better be ovaries!).
Thursday, April 19, 2007
A time to tear down and a time to build...
In my house these "times" seem to come in rapid succession.
Last night Andrew built Søren a blanket fortress, only to have Søren pull it down after 3 seconds of admiration. Then Søren wanted to see Daddy build it again. Andrew, of course, complied, thinking perhaps the first tear down was some kind of accident. Søren preceded to demolish it again and was missing the wonder of pretending to hide in a fort. At this point Andrew was missing the wonder of putting his energy into creating something just to be torn down.
Andrew doesn't spend the whole day doing this. I have grown accustomed. Part of our daily activities involve Søren pulling out his blocks and wanting me to "help" build him some kind of tunnel or house for his cars to drive on, and then knocking it down. Or stacking, knocking down, and restacking his nesting cups over and over until my patience wears thin. It is a strange thing to see your efforts immediately destroyed. It is somewhat unsettling even though I am used to it.
Somehow I think God understands this far better than we do, and has far more patience with the process. For Søren, the tearing down is part of the understanding and learning. The enjoyment over what is built will come later when he fully understands the building process. In the mean time he wants to see it built over and over, and see exactly how it comes apart and see how different kinds of destructive efforts affect different effects.
I am also in a process of tearing down. There are no more pictures on our walls, no more displays of my tea wares and vases. The books are off their shelves and arranged in stacks of boxes in the spare room. Here we built a home for 9 months only to tear it down and plan to rebuild in a new place - and God alone knows for how long that will be. From the vantage point of eternity, I am sure setting up and tearing down our homes - no matter how long the interval - probably looks the same as building a blanket fortress and taking it down and putting it up in a new place, and taking it down 5-6 times in a matter of 10 minutes.
Yet I think there is a value in it, because the 9 months or more (or less) in a home still feels substantial to the creatures living within it. Perhaps the more so because of the eternity written in our hearts, because we long for the permanent trappings of heaven. Besides, from the vantage point of eternity, doesn't God's project with Earth itself (even if it has been 38 billion years) seem like a quick building and tearing down?
Knowing that all things earthly will be torn down when God sees fit, I watched my growing son hoist himself up onto a box labeled "fragile, kitchen, glass" and decided not to fight it. I insulated it well, and I don't think anything was effected. He has taken great joy in all the boxes to climb on and new levels to explore. Baby proofing is nothing. Toddler proofing is a chore!
As if keeping sharp, breakable, and poisonous things even higher were not enough, there is the added and unavoidable danger of Søren doing what he did today: try to sit quickly on the edge of the box, tumble backwards knocking his head into the wall and then the floor. This is much harder on me than him, and he followed it up with a worse spill onto the concrete with his forehead this afternoon. He's fine and unfazed after the first 45 seconds of tears. I'm fine, too. I realize that part of the building process for a little man is lots of little experiences of being torn down. It's not so different for me, as God concurrently is tearing me down while building me up. I guess that's just how it all works.
Though it did make me even more inclined to the Asian styles of keeping everything on the floor. There are no chairs to climb on and fall off of, no 4 foot high beds that might as well be suspended from the ceiling. You get to eat sitting cross-legged. Simple and less of a hazard for 20-month-olds. Wouldn't we stay more flexible too?
Last night Andrew built Søren a blanket fortress, only to have Søren pull it down after 3 seconds of admiration. Then Søren wanted to see Daddy build it again. Andrew, of course, complied, thinking perhaps the first tear down was some kind of accident. Søren preceded to demolish it again and was missing the wonder of pretending to hide in a fort. At this point Andrew was missing the wonder of putting his energy into creating something just to be torn down.
Andrew doesn't spend the whole day doing this. I have grown accustomed. Part of our daily activities involve Søren pulling out his blocks and wanting me to "help" build him some kind of tunnel or house for his cars to drive on, and then knocking it down. Or stacking, knocking down, and restacking his nesting cups over and over until my patience wears thin. It is a strange thing to see your efforts immediately destroyed. It is somewhat unsettling even though I am used to it.
Somehow I think God understands this far better than we do, and has far more patience with the process. For Søren, the tearing down is part of the understanding and learning. The enjoyment over what is built will come later when he fully understands the building process. In the mean time he wants to see it built over and over, and see exactly how it comes apart and see how different kinds of destructive efforts affect different effects.
I am also in a process of tearing down. There are no more pictures on our walls, no more displays of my tea wares and vases. The books are off their shelves and arranged in stacks of boxes in the spare room. Here we built a home for 9 months only to tear it down and plan to rebuild in a new place - and God alone knows for how long that will be. From the vantage point of eternity, I am sure setting up and tearing down our homes - no matter how long the interval - probably looks the same as building a blanket fortress and taking it down and putting it up in a new place, and taking it down 5-6 times in a matter of 10 minutes.
Yet I think there is a value in it, because the 9 months or more (or less) in a home still feels substantial to the creatures living within it. Perhaps the more so because of the eternity written in our hearts, because we long for the permanent trappings of heaven. Besides, from the vantage point of eternity, doesn't God's project with Earth itself (even if it has been 38 billion years) seem like a quick building and tearing down?
Knowing that all things earthly will be torn down when God sees fit, I watched my growing son hoist himself up onto a box labeled "fragile, kitchen, glass" and decided not to fight it. I insulated it well, and I don't think anything was effected. He has taken great joy in all the boxes to climb on and new levels to explore. Baby proofing is nothing. Toddler proofing is a chore!
As if keeping sharp, breakable, and poisonous things even higher were not enough, there is the added and unavoidable danger of Søren doing what he did today: try to sit quickly on the edge of the box, tumble backwards knocking his head into the wall and then the floor. This is much harder on me than him, and he followed it up with a worse spill onto the concrete with his forehead this afternoon. He's fine and unfazed after the first 45 seconds of tears. I'm fine, too. I realize that part of the building process for a little man is lots of little experiences of being torn down. It's not so different for me, as God concurrently is tearing me down while building me up. I guess that's just how it all works.
Though it did make me even more inclined to the Asian styles of keeping everything on the floor. There are no chairs to climb on and fall off of, no 4 foot high beds that might as well be suspended from the ceiling. You get to eat sitting cross-legged. Simple and less of a hazard for 20-month-olds. Wouldn't we stay more flexible too?
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Thank you Gutenberg
When I first began seriously studying the bible for myself I was 19.
I had just moved to Portland and was living on my own (with a roommate) for the first time in my life. For some reason I started thinking about starting a bible study.
At Portland Community College there was a study ministry group I got involved in as a prayer coordinator. This is one of the ironies of my life. At SPU I was the "prayer liaison" for urban ministries. At PCC I was a prayer coordinator and hosted times that students could come together to pray for the school and whatever else. When I left school for a couple years to work (as the office manager and crusade secretary for an evangelist no less!) and find a program that I actually felt like would TEACH me (thank you Gutenberg) I dove head over feet into an urban-coffee-shop-bible-study-outreach-thing that desperately needed female leadership. In addition to starting a women's bible study, I played hostest for a Thursday evening fellowship dinner and "body life" prayer meeting. The irony is that I had no idea then - and hardly now - what prayer was, and somehow I was always in a role related to it?!
But the discussion of prayer is for another blog. Here I am more interested in bible study. From my own naivete, or perhaps from the church culture around me, I had the idea that as you proceeded verse by verse through a book of the bible, each verse had at least a sermon's worth of significance, and that the best way to expand your understanding of a verse was to read and compare every cross reference available, then to find any other meaning available for words that you weren't sure what meant. This is how I taught. I didn't think I was necessarily qualified, but I had always been a very good reader and student, so I thought I could take on studying the bible for myself and sharing my conclusions.
I don't have the energy here to go into all my thoughts related to the events and blunders of that period of my life. I really am trying to get to a simple point, but, as a verbal processor - I somehow feel I have to explain all the back story for context. Ah, context...a foreshadowing of my point!
Anyhow. For example, I would latch onto verses as proof texts, or as phrases to live by (I probably still do this). One of my favorite challenges came from Philippians 4:11b "I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am" (NASB). This was a challenge for me to accept with a contented heart whatever it was that was happening to and around me.
So much of my theology has been reworked since that time, and I won't go into it here. My main point I guess is that I read (and especially the bible) significantly differently than I do now. I found verses and passages that brought me comfort, and shaped my theology around them, using them as a foundation for my understanding of who God is and what I ought to be doing with my short life here. It wasn't bad or cultish, and it didn't even produce theology that would sound all that different from the facts of what I believe now. But it was very different.
I have recently been wanting to do some research for a paper comparing the biblical conceptions of contentment and zeal to see how they complement each other because they sometimes feel at odds to me. As I began a preliminary study into the passages that stuck in my mind as a spring board (Phil 4:11 being one) I quickly realized that my question has nothing to do with Phil 4:11, because Phil 4:11 has nothing to do with the kind of contentment I was thinking it did.
As I read Philippians 4 (in context!) I realised that Paul is explicitly talking about the Philippians renewed financial support, and thanking them for it, but assuring them that he has learned to be content whether well supported or struggling. That the varying degrees of luxury in life were of no real concern for him. Now, this is of course related to contentment in life in general, but he is clearly and specifically talking about his physical financial life. He is not saying he has reached some spiritual plateau of contentedness where nothing ever shakes him.
I read other places where the word content(ment) is used, and it's all the same. Financial contentment. Contentment with income and one's standard of living.
Now, this is not to say there isn't a spiritual contentment talked about in the bible. I think it would be closer to what Jack Crabtree describes as Sophrosune. And so my desire is to really understand what it means to be okay with who God made me, my family, the things that come in and out of my life and yet to also call evil evil (prov 8:13) and strive to promote the truth into my culture.
That may all be quite confusing, but it was helpful for me to put it all out there in writing. The main thing I was marveling - aside from the question I want to study - is how differently I read since graduating from Gutenberg. It comes so naturally to seek to understand the author's intended meaning, rather than to pull out magical spiritual meanings. This allows me to actually begin to reconstruct the worldview of the apostles and writers of the Old and New Testaments.
During my time at Gutenberg I didn't have much time for personal bible study. I did some, but mainly I focused on school (and marriage and having a baby...you get the picture, not much time for personal bible study outside of church and Tuesday Night Class). So in a way, I have had a 4-year hiatus from my studies. So rather than a gradual change in the way I study the bible, I can see radically different ways that I read and thus study.
This is because of Gutenberg. Not only did they demystify the bible and remind me that it is just a book. A book through which God decided to authoritatively explain his character and his purpose for man's life on earth to us mortals, but still just a book to be read as you would read any other text you were trying to understand, not a magic text requiring magic reading rules. Then, they taught me how to read - how to REALLY read. It's hard to explain, but as I delve back into such familiar territory as the bible, I can see how drastically different my abilities are. You don't realize as you sit through classes and discussions - and especially Micro exegesis (a 1 credit class each quarter with no homework - just show up and read together) - that you are slowly, slowly, slowly being transformed into a skilled reader. I am grateful. Thank you Gutenberg.
Now that I have "verbally processed" all of that out, I realize I could probably delete everything but the previous two paragraphs and still make the same point...but I'm not going to, mainly because it took too long to write - and perhaps there was something worth reading in there somewhere, and even if not, my web address is "attempting transparency" right? Well, there you go.
I had just moved to Portland and was living on my own (with a roommate) for the first time in my life. For some reason I started thinking about starting a bible study.
At Portland Community College there was a study ministry group I got involved in as a prayer coordinator. This is one of the ironies of my life. At SPU I was the "prayer liaison" for urban ministries. At PCC I was a prayer coordinator and hosted times that students could come together to pray for the school and whatever else. When I left school for a couple years to work (as the office manager and crusade secretary for an evangelist no less!) and find a program that I actually felt like would TEACH me (thank you Gutenberg) I dove head over feet into an urban-coffee-shop-bible-study-outreach-thing that desperately needed female leadership. In addition to starting a women's bible study, I played hostest for a Thursday evening fellowship dinner and "body life" prayer meeting. The irony is that I had no idea then - and hardly now - what prayer was, and somehow I was always in a role related to it?!
But the discussion of prayer is for another blog. Here I am more interested in bible study. From my own naivete, or perhaps from the church culture around me, I had the idea that as you proceeded verse by verse through a book of the bible, each verse had at least a sermon's worth of significance, and that the best way to expand your understanding of a verse was to read and compare every cross reference available, then to find any other meaning available for words that you weren't sure what meant. This is how I taught. I didn't think I was necessarily qualified, but I had always been a very good reader and student, so I thought I could take on studying the bible for myself and sharing my conclusions.
I don't have the energy here to go into all my thoughts related to the events and blunders of that period of my life. I really am trying to get to a simple point, but, as a verbal processor - I somehow feel I have to explain all the back story for context. Ah, context...a foreshadowing of my point!
Anyhow. For example, I would latch onto verses as proof texts, or as phrases to live by (I probably still do this). One of my favorite challenges came from Philippians 4:11b "I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am" (NASB). This was a challenge for me to accept with a contented heart whatever it was that was happening to and around me.
So much of my theology has been reworked since that time, and I won't go into it here. My main point I guess is that I read (and especially the bible) significantly differently than I do now. I found verses and passages that brought me comfort, and shaped my theology around them, using them as a foundation for my understanding of who God is and what I ought to be doing with my short life here. It wasn't bad or cultish, and it didn't even produce theology that would sound all that different from the facts of what I believe now. But it was very different.
I have recently been wanting to do some research for a paper comparing the biblical conceptions of contentment and zeal to see how they complement each other because they sometimes feel at odds to me. As I began a preliminary study into the passages that stuck in my mind as a spring board (Phil 4:11 being one) I quickly realized that my question has nothing to do with Phil 4:11, because Phil 4:11 has nothing to do with the kind of contentment I was thinking it did.
As I read Philippians 4 (in context!) I realised that Paul is explicitly talking about the Philippians renewed financial support, and thanking them for it, but assuring them that he has learned to be content whether well supported or struggling. That the varying degrees of luxury in life were of no real concern for him. Now, this is of course related to contentment in life in general, but he is clearly and specifically talking about his physical financial life. He is not saying he has reached some spiritual plateau of contentedness where nothing ever shakes him.
I read other places where the word content(ment) is used, and it's all the same. Financial contentment. Contentment with income and one's standard of living.
Now, this is not to say there isn't a spiritual contentment talked about in the bible. I think it would be closer to what Jack Crabtree describes as Sophrosune. And so my desire is to really understand what it means to be okay with who God made me, my family, the things that come in and out of my life and yet to also call evil evil (prov 8:13) and strive to promote the truth into my culture.
That may all be quite confusing, but it was helpful for me to put it all out there in writing. The main thing I was marveling - aside from the question I want to study - is how differently I read since graduating from Gutenberg. It comes so naturally to seek to understand the author's intended meaning, rather than to pull out magical spiritual meanings. This allows me to actually begin to reconstruct the worldview of the apostles and writers of the Old and New Testaments.
During my time at Gutenberg I didn't have much time for personal bible study. I did some, but mainly I focused on school (and marriage and having a baby...you get the picture, not much time for personal bible study outside of church and Tuesday Night Class). So in a way, I have had a 4-year hiatus from my studies. So rather than a gradual change in the way I study the bible, I can see radically different ways that I read and thus study.
This is because of Gutenberg. Not only did they demystify the bible and remind me that it is just a book. A book through which God decided to authoritatively explain his character and his purpose for man's life on earth to us mortals, but still just a book to be read as you would read any other text you were trying to understand, not a magic text requiring magic reading rules. Then, they taught me how to read - how to REALLY read. It's hard to explain, but as I delve back into such familiar territory as the bible, I can see how drastically different my abilities are. You don't realize as you sit through classes and discussions - and especially Micro exegesis (a 1 credit class each quarter with no homework - just show up and read together) - that you are slowly, slowly, slowly being transformed into a skilled reader. I am grateful. Thank you Gutenberg.
Now that I have "verbally processed" all of that out, I realize I could probably delete everything but the previous two paragraphs and still make the same point...but I'm not going to, mainly because it took too long to write - and perhaps there was something worth reading in there somewhere, and even if not, my web address is "attempting transparency" right? Well, there you go.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Our Easter Adventure
Our Easter was relaxing as we stayed at home and rested. Last weekend Andrew was in Alaska, this weekend we have a hospital tour, the following weekend I have two baby showers to attend, and the weekend after that my aunt is getting married and we're moving. We felt like a slow restful weekend with a good long walk was a good way to celebrate the crucial miracle for our faith.
Søren got to take his daddy to one of his favorite lakes and show him how to look for fish and throw rocks in the water. He also got his first shoulder ride (as seen above).
We did get a little preliminary packing done. Mainly prepping the 3rd bedroom as a staging area for all the boxes I am slowly packing as I get the chance. I say slowly, I think I've packed 25 boxes already! It helps that I can't wear any of my clothes, so my closet is now packed away in the extra room. We're getting lots of purging done, too, and it feels so good to get rid of stuff! I think this will be our easiest move ever.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Resurrection Day
The sun rose one Easter morning finding the rising of many, many things.
Children rose to find lovely dresses and sweater vests laid out for visits to church and to Grandma's.
The noise of church bells rose over the city allowing the children to rise out of their pews and race to the real significance of their day.
At Grandma's, basket contents rose out of thier nests, and blood sugar levels rose higher than usual.
The sun looked on in wonder that what didn't seem to rise was any sincere acknowledgement of why this day had arisen as a holiday.
The sun remembered a day not too many years before when he rose to find a wonder of wonders: a man he watched die was walking, talking, eating and embracing! A miraculous resurrection. The man's friends had rose slowly and sadly, still in mourning, to find a day where their spirits rose again when greeted by this friend and teacher.
Then the sun looked again upon the current day at the heaps of bunnies and wrappers rising in discarded piles and felt that this day's resurrections paled in comparison to the rising of songs and laughter that had filled the day that dead man rose and how that celebration lasted for many more days until this man rose still further into the air with a promise to prepare a place for his friends and come back to bring them there.
Children rose to find lovely dresses and sweater vests laid out for visits to church and to Grandma's.
The noise of church bells rose over the city allowing the children to rise out of their pews and race to the real significance of their day.
At Grandma's, basket contents rose out of thier nests, and blood sugar levels rose higher than usual.
The sun looked on in wonder that what didn't seem to rise was any sincere acknowledgement of why this day had arisen as a holiday.
The sun remembered a day not too many years before when he rose to find a wonder of wonders: a man he watched die was walking, talking, eating and embracing! A miraculous resurrection. The man's friends had rose slowly and sadly, still in mourning, to find a day where their spirits rose again when greeted by this friend and teacher.
Then the sun looked again upon the current day at the heaps of bunnies and wrappers rising in discarded piles and felt that this day's resurrections paled in comparison to the rising of songs and laughter that had filled the day that dead man rose and how that celebration lasted for many more days until this man rose still further into the air with a promise to prepare a place for his friends and come back to bring them there.
Friday, April 6, 2007
And the Thinking Blogger Awards go to...
The blogging world is far more complex than I have previously thought. I have been tagged, or "nominated", graciously by my dear friend Summer as a thinking blogger. I am honored, and now I have to pass on the nominations for blogs that keep me thinking. I imagine the goal here is to create a long linking list of read worthy blogs.
Of course, my two favorite bloggers (Summer and Meg) are already nominated, so I have to come up with another five. I guess if you're reading this, I'm kinda giving you seven. The only problem is I really only have three new ones to add because I am too new to the blog world. I will add the other two when I find them.
Here are my pics so far:
1. Deanna Lovely and honest thoughts and descriptions of grappeling with herself in the midst of the smaller details of life which are really the largest details of life.
2. Cherie More honest soul searching in the midst of daily life.
3. Zak Very clever and creative stories exploring himself and man in general. Fun to read and makes you think.
4. TBA
5. TBA
The Rules:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.
Of course, my two favorite bloggers (Summer and Meg) are already nominated, so I have to come up with another five. I guess if you're reading this, I'm kinda giving you seven. The only problem is I really only have three new ones to add because I am too new to the blog world. I will add the other two when I find them.
Here are my pics so far:
1. Deanna Lovely and honest thoughts and descriptions of grappeling with herself in the midst of the smaller details of life which are really the largest details of life.
2. Cherie More honest soul searching in the midst of daily life.
3. Zak Very clever and creative stories exploring himself and man in general. Fun to read and makes you think.
4. TBA
5. TBA
The Rules:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Of Orangatangs and Indy Bugs
Dawn broke this morning with the promise of joy and fullness. Søren seemed to want to sleep through the early morning light and thus let momma sleep in a little too. We enjoyed kissing Andrew off to work with the knowledge that he has finally found the perfect fit for all his varied abilities, and the joy in seeing him enjoy it.
Then it was blueberry porridge and excited lunch packing because of the promise of a day at the zoo with some favorite friends...some for momma and one for Søren, too. The drive was a part of the fun because a trip to the zoo involves travel across two bridges with a good view of the water, and through two long tunnels. This is quite fun for my little man, and to top it off we drove right next to a caravan of 4 double dump trucks. It doesn't really get better than that. But it did. Then there was the zoo!
Of course there were the usual lovelies of seeing some strange and some familiar animals. I think Søren was more impressed by all of the people at the zoo this time. I learned an important lesson in the Nocturnal House while we sat our babes on the railing to watch a large bat flap it's wings - joined of course, by Indy. The sweet, barely one, Indy was slipping her hand into my Søren's under the cover of darkness that our parental eyes were having a hard time adjusting too! Very cute, and promising since I want to arrange a marriage between them, BUT also a good lesson that boys and girls shouldn't be left in the dark together at any age! Instinctively tempting I guess.
The other delight that made me laugh out loud in the middle of the street, was that as we were about to get back in our car and head home Søren discovered a large ivy bed between the sidewalk and the street. He cautiously stepped into it and looked at me with a grin. I grinned back. Then he did a little bouncing and threw himself backwards to bathe in the green goodness while giggling with delight. This was too much and I almost considered joining him. Unfortunately, my fear of bugs - especially spiders in my hair - stopped me, and instead I grabbed the camera so that I could share this moment with Andrew...and this blog world, too.
I was chatting with another young momma the other day about how older mothers always seem to share stories that they don't remember their "pregnant years" or much of anything that happened while they had multiple children in diapers. This momma informed me that good memory requires focused thought time, and that often with multiple little ones running around and the demands of keeping a household together, that kind of focus is absent. For some reason I thought of Mary (the mother of Jesus, to be specific) and how the gospel accounts mention certain events in Jesus' childhood that she "treasured up in her heart". I imagine that she probably had several little ones at once, as I have heard from various sources that she and Joseph had many children after Jesus.
This made me stop to try and focus and remember that these are precious moments, and that I need to take the time to treasure these things up in my heart, and all the more so as another little man will be gracing our family in a few more weeks. It also made me grateful for the modern phenomena of blogging, because it provides an avenue to stop, focus, and treasure - and then keeps it documented! How nice.
Then it was blueberry porridge and excited lunch packing because of the promise of a day at the zoo with some favorite friends...some for momma and one for Søren, too. The drive was a part of the fun because a trip to the zoo involves travel across two bridges with a good view of the water, and through two long tunnels. This is quite fun for my little man, and to top it off we drove right next to a caravan of 4 double dump trucks. It doesn't really get better than that. But it did. Then there was the zoo!
Of course there were the usual lovelies of seeing some strange and some familiar animals. I think Søren was more impressed by all of the people at the zoo this time. I learned an important lesson in the Nocturnal House while we sat our babes on the railing to watch a large bat flap it's wings - joined of course, by Indy. The sweet, barely one, Indy was slipping her hand into my Søren's under the cover of darkness that our parental eyes were having a hard time adjusting too! Very cute, and promising since I want to arrange a marriage between them, BUT also a good lesson that boys and girls shouldn't be left in the dark together at any age! Instinctively tempting I guess.
The other delight that made me laugh out loud in the middle of the street, was that as we were about to get back in our car and head home Søren discovered a large ivy bed between the sidewalk and the street. He cautiously stepped into it and looked at me with a grin. I grinned back. Then he did a little bouncing and threw himself backwards to bathe in the green goodness while giggling with delight. This was too much and I almost considered joining him. Unfortunately, my fear of bugs - especially spiders in my hair - stopped me, and instead I grabbed the camera so that I could share this moment with Andrew...and this blog world, too.
I was chatting with another young momma the other day about how older mothers always seem to share stories that they don't remember their "pregnant years" or much of anything that happened while they had multiple children in diapers. This momma informed me that good memory requires focused thought time, and that often with multiple little ones running around and the demands of keeping a household together, that kind of focus is absent. For some reason I thought of Mary (the mother of Jesus, to be specific) and how the gospel accounts mention certain events in Jesus' childhood that she "treasured up in her heart". I imagine that she probably had several little ones at once, as I have heard from various sources that she and Joseph had many children after Jesus.
This made me stop to try and focus and remember that these are precious moments, and that I need to take the time to treasure these things up in my heart, and all the more so as another little man will be gracing our family in a few more weeks. It also made me grateful for the modern phenomena of blogging, because it provides an avenue to stop, focus, and treasure - and then keeps it documented! How nice.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Fat Lip
Søren and I adventured down to Centrailia again while Andrew was at work today (thus unavailable for any more Lewis County singing engagements). Our mission this time was to see my dear pregnant friend (one of 3 at the moment), Jessica, before her daughter, Abigail Renee, is born this month.
The first hour was filled with the songs of Barney and Raffi, and then small chatter of the days events and snacking as we approached downtown Centrailia. I used to think that Centrailia was just a road stop with some undesirable outlet stores. Now I know that if you travel a little deeper there is actually a lovely antique strip, busy train station, small but full used book store, and quaint authentic southern Mexican restaurant where everyone knows your name, and thus also knows if you are not from Centrailia.
Another observance was that many of the paved parking lots and walkways are not made with the smooth concrete I have grown used to in big cities and biking cities. Instead they have the look of cemented gravel that was tossed by the changing of the tides, though I don't think Centrailia was under water in the recent past. These frozen rocks cause quite a trip hazard for the excited feet of a 19 month old boy whose head often travels slightly faster than his toes - but who is determined to run anyway. The result of this combination was a strong tumble for my little one. He did try to break his fall with his hands - an instinct I am happy he possesses - but unfortunately his head had too much momentum, and the fall was broken mainly with his upper lip exploding as a jagged little rock ended the trip.
My brave man cried for all of 45 seconds and then let me clean and dry his first real flesh wound. Over the next couple hours his lip grew, so that by the time we came home he could show his Daddy a good fat lip.
Somehow in all the adventuring Jessica and I neglected to get a picture of us with our protruding bellies. That would have gone nicely with all the other pictures we have acquired over the years since meeting as roommates at Seattle Pacific University so many years ago. Pictures of 18, and 19, and 20 year old girls who weren't bothered, or blessed, with the responsibilities of tending to children or husbands, or making sure our visit was full enough, but short enough, to feed our families at a normal time. Girls who could spontaneously take a hitchhiker from Portland to Eugene where neither of us had ever visited before. Carefree, sometimes foolish girls, who have tried to take some measure of wisdom from those years lived together and hope to use it to raise decent human beings as we close our 20's and move into the greater adventures that come from exploring a more settled environment - somehow still finding spontaneity and places in ourselves we have never visited before. Less pictures, yes, but adventures more worth undertaking.
The first hour was filled with the songs of Barney and Raffi, and then small chatter of the days events and snacking as we approached downtown Centrailia. I used to think that Centrailia was just a road stop with some undesirable outlet stores. Now I know that if you travel a little deeper there is actually a lovely antique strip, busy train station, small but full used book store, and quaint authentic southern Mexican restaurant where everyone knows your name, and thus also knows if you are not from Centrailia.
Another observance was that many of the paved parking lots and walkways are not made with the smooth concrete I have grown used to in big cities and biking cities. Instead they have the look of cemented gravel that was tossed by the changing of the tides, though I don't think Centrailia was under water in the recent past. These frozen rocks cause quite a trip hazard for the excited feet of a 19 month old boy whose head often travels slightly faster than his toes - but who is determined to run anyway. The result of this combination was a strong tumble for my little one. He did try to break his fall with his hands - an instinct I am happy he possesses - but unfortunately his head had too much momentum, and the fall was broken mainly with his upper lip exploding as a jagged little rock ended the trip.
My brave man cried for all of 45 seconds and then let me clean and dry his first real flesh wound. Over the next couple hours his lip grew, so that by the time we came home he could show his Daddy a good fat lip.
Somehow in all the adventuring Jessica and I neglected to get a picture of us with our protruding bellies. That would have gone nicely with all the other pictures we have acquired over the years since meeting as roommates at Seattle Pacific University so many years ago. Pictures of 18, and 19, and 20 year old girls who weren't bothered, or blessed, with the responsibilities of tending to children or husbands, or making sure our visit was full enough, but short enough, to feed our families at a normal time. Girls who could spontaneously take a hitchhiker from Portland to Eugene where neither of us had ever visited before. Carefree, sometimes foolish girls, who have tried to take some measure of wisdom from those years lived together and hope to use it to raise decent human beings as we close our 20's and move into the greater adventures that come from exploring a more settled environment - somehow still finding spontaneity and places in ourselves we have never visited before. Less pictures, yes, but adventures more worth undertaking.
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