Again

Everything is faster. My hyped technology-driven expectations are high and my attention span is short. Mike reminds me that we cannot truly multi-task, but that doesn't stop me from trying. Blackberries have given way to iPhones, the next level of substantive technology addiction. I had critical reading skills once and patience to write long hand (and re-write).

Forty days is a long time now. A long time to prepare for anything, we think. Too long. Surely, we don't need 40 days, 10 would be enough. My desire for immediate success makes re-starting each day challenging, humbling.

Today, I again climb out of the rut, the sameness and struggle with my inner voices and the whisperings of email to focus, focus, for just a few moments on just being, waiting, preparing.

The Wish to be Generous

by Wendell Berry

ALL that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man's evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

Shut in

I have embarked on a self-imposed project this week to once again attempt to read through the Bible (or most of it) this year. Shameful for this literature major to confess, but I have not yet read the whole thing through even once. I have read a lot of it, but I can't tell you where exactly the holes are.

It is like roman numerals. Some schools must cover roman numerals in fourth grade and some in fifth grade. We moved every few years with the military when I was young. I also skipped a grade around that time. The result: I cannot read the year on movie credits as I never learned roman numerals past about XX. Skipping parts of the Word of God is probably more problematic than knowing when the movie was made. I'm on day 6 and doing well, but it is days 29 and 72 I worry about.

Today, I read about Noah and The Flood. "The Lord shut them in." God shut Noah, his family and all the animals in the huge, cypress football field block of wood. He closed and sealed the door. Was it necessary for God to help because the door was so huge/heavy and Noah hadn't engineering a way to close it from the inside? I doubt Noah overlooked such a feature, given that he would want to be able to open the door from the inside later and he had apparently plenty of design and build time with a project that massive and only handmade hand tools. (Did you get that part -- he and his sons would have had to make the tools to make the boat!)

No, on this rainy day in Virginia, I fancy that God needed to shut the door because the people and the animals might have been reluctant to do so themselves. Last breaths of fresh air. Last glimpse of sky. Last bit of personal space. Perhaps too Noah wasn't quite sure what this flood thing really would be, if it would really really really come. He believed enough to build the boat. That is a lot of belief. But, to close the door on life as he knew it, his friends, his house, creation?

All things new

My sister left today for Namibia - for 11 months of teaching. A change this big is a leap of faith. I know she is nervous, worried, emotionally exhausted from saying goodbye to family and friends and perhaps wanting to run back to home. Yet, she leaped, or at least walked, onto the plane anyway.

Mike starts his new job next week. My first GMU grad class begins in January as well. We've now visited five churches here. 2009 is starting off with almost too much "new" and not enough old. I'm not sure I want to make any "new" year's resolutions.

Weighted Church Evaluation Plan

I am resisting my professional training and personality trait to make a list and being rating the churches. I have already envisioned the Excel worksheet, neat sections for different aspects of church life, cross-sectioned with weightings and then a simple 1 to 5 rating system (10 point systems are simply too broad).

I resist because it seems somehow wrong to find a new faith community in this manner, although I am trying to determine exactly why. Perhaps I feel it is too analytical or cynical, too narrow for God to work through. Nonsense though. God works through anything God pleases--at least that is what I take away from the Word. Maybe it is not fair. Not fair to rate a community gathered to worship God on their music selections that week, the bulletin order or how many people noticed us hovering in our own little bubble. It probably isn't fair, but it is hard to avoid evaluating.

If I do start that Excel file, I can at least start filling out the part on children's church, as that is most of what I have seen the past two Sundays. The girls have enjoyed their children's church experiences at two churches quite a bit, but weren't willing to let me go. I guess I will have to hold off on rating those churches on sermon message content/delivery or the overall service until I see a bit more.

Of course, I want to be wowed by God's presence in the worship and through the people so much that my brain forgets to evaluate and simply listens to a heart whisper that says "yes, here, this one".

Mike says he's found us a church, apparently hearing that heart whisper. The commute will be tough though for any sort of weekly attendance, given the church is in Beijing. I think even my six-year old would pick up on the irony.

Once upon a time...

There lived a olive-skinned, brunette maiden on an island barely inside the circle of the north pole. She fell in love with a fairer young shiny knight disguised in chammies and seargent's strips. After treks back and forth around the world seperately and quite a bit of snail mail (alas, this was such a once upon a time that email simply wasn't available for most peasants, maidens or knights), they met again, declared their mutual love and were married.

Many years later, they had built a castle of memories. Memory castles are easier to move and being nomads, they simply couldn't afford to build a stone dwelling. The books were heavy enought to move from place to place. While sometimes parted, they still remained true and faithful. They made each other strong. As time went on, they had children, fairy-like little ones that both glitter and amazed while still also driving them as crazy as gnats somedays. The maiden and the knight grew comfortable together and were parted less oft.

And, then, a challenge was raised. The knight would go far away among strangers for a fortnight while the maiden would unpack the castle of memories and set it up in a rather colder, damper location than the sunny coast they had enjoyed for a few years. The knight left. The maiden began by distracting the spritish children with treats and grand stories. Whether or not the maiden survived the fortnight depends greatly on her resourcefulness, patience and humor. That is another chapter.

Rain

Today, it rained. This doesn't seem earth-shattering to many people, but it was refreshing and exciting to us. The girls walked to school with their umbrellas open (fairy purple and cow black and white, complete with ears) even though the rain hadn't actually started.

I remember moving to Carmel in the month of June. Sometime in late fall of that year, maybe November, Mike and I heard this odd sound late one night after the kids had gone to bed. We went and opened the front door: rain! We realized we had not had rain in the months since the move and had not really noticed the change from Missouri.

Now, we back in rain. It is nice, enjoyable and exciting today. In a month, it may be slushy, cold and grey. We'll enjoy it today. And, we may have to get some rain boots.

Homesick

I have been homesick today, which is strange as I am not missing a place and have no real home apart from where my family is right now. But, I am missing a people, a church, a way of life and a comfort level. I find this a bit of a new feeling. I've missed people before and certainly was sad and nervous and even angry when we moved in my childhood. This is different, though. I can't say why for sure yet.

We visited a church today. It was nice (enough). I find it hard not to compare to the church, the people, the spirit we are missing at Carmel Pres. When we moved last time, we left a church that had many issues, struggled and we didn't quite fit. We were excited about "church shopping" - a chance to find a place where God would use us, where we would fit, where we would feel at home. And, God is amazing--because he put us right where we so desired, blessed us and helped us grow in directions that we didn't even know about.

Now, having left that place, we are grieving. I left the new church today. Mike asked me "what did you think?" "I don't want to church shop. I just want some of Carmel Pres to move here."

Irrational. New place jitters. A bit melodramatic and melancholy. Yet, I understand when MeiLin says she doesn't want to go to her new school tomorrow because she won't have recess (the class lost recess time on Friday for being rowdy at lunch).

Take a moment...

Heather's granddad, Victor Menking, passed away this week and she flew down to Abilene, Texas to be with family to celebrate and honor this great man. He and Elline just celebrated their 60th anniversary two days before hand and Papa served his country for over 40 years.

Death is never easy. When Heather's dad called to tell us, Heather wasn't home at the time, so I took the call. And I knew. I knew because Papa had been ill. I knew because Dad hesitated. I knew because my heart already ached with the loss. Not just for me, but for Heather and her family, and for my children who will have trouble remembering Papa in the years to come because they are so young now.

I lost my Opa many years ago, yet the day we found out is still fresh in my mind. But what I remember more is what took place a number of years later. Heather and I were watching a movie, The Doctor (1991), with William Hurt. It was not particularly memorable, but one scene had a deep and unexpected impact on me. Hurt, who is playing the doctor, is walking towards his car in a garage and comes upon an elderly gentlemen who is standing beside his car, struggling. I don't remember why; lost keys, forgetfulness, something else. But his mannerisms or struggles or appearance reminded me so much of my Opa that I was overcome with grief and loss in that dark theater, and I broke down and cried.

The pain and loss subside, but never fade completely. They are part of who we are and as difficult as it is, I'm thankful. Without the hurt, I wouldn't be reminded how important it is to cherish our time together now. To be thankful for every moment we have. To strengthen the ties to family that give us our strength and sense of place. To hug my girls instead of being upset when they do something that drives me crazy. To love my wife, my friend.

60 years. Heather and I will celebrate our 17th this year and, although thankful for every year, I'm awed by those who have 40, 50 and 60. I pray there will be many more for us. If you listen to NPR at all, you may know that on Fridays, the have a story about the StoryCorps. This is a project that travels around the U.S. and invites people to come into a sound booth and record stories about family, friends and life. One couple, Danny and Annie Perasa, are exceptional. Not in the eyes of the world so much; they are not particularly beautiful, rich, influential or well spoken. But the story they tell about their love cuts to the heart. Danny talks about his love for Annie in basic terms; "Being married is like having a color television set, you never want to go back to black and white."

I invite you to go to the NPR web site and listen to their last recording before Danny passed away as anything I could write would diminish what you will hear (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5230164 and hit the "Listen" button under the title). I hope that my love for Heather is as evident to her and our children as Danny's love is for Annie.

So thank you and good bye, Papa. We will miss you. And Lord, help us all to cherish our family and friends now.